wmm® vf 7 > i t ^ 1 ? * » • * * * * % £ j" •""%-»$•»" v-** * ^ ^ s ^ r ^ ~ ; ""V- x^ <i •: VKR aOVLPTffK M aunor DOAinL > . . <M*el 1" hand *to«d a m-iilyitor boy|^_ ;V*-' With hi» m»rb!p block b«fnM h!m,y; v Aad hi* f»oe III up with a mit« of Jf|| S A« an angel dream paa-ed °'cr h'• ctevfd ilie dream on that shap^cii MOM WitU iuauv n sharp inoixion; , With hMvesi'n own lipht the wu ptui* MM Bo had caught the angel vtaion. Inlpton of life tn we M W» stand. With our sou's tiDCUBCd before na, r Xr ^.i WtBting th* (toul when at ».->d's imaM tlM Ufilit dream paiwe* o'er ua. ^ if we carve It theu on the yielding atHM^ ./, With snauy a sharp incision, hcavrnlv Iwauty shall be our oWBjy, Iti he* that angel Tirtan. :* : i'.v I-* } H - > 1 - LINDA'S LEGACC J) was one of those strong affections which sometimes exist between the old and the young, and which seem to shako the theory of natural inheritance. For old Mr. Walters was much more like Linda's father--or grandfather, for the matter of that--than was her own legiti mate progenitor; and the love between the two would have afforded a capital theme for a discourse on the power of elective affinity. Both were artists ; old Mr. Walters being a master in the craft whereof Linda was but an humble be ginner ; and part of the tie between them was the old man's desire to see his favorite's professional improvement, and the consequent lessons which he gave her on the management of her colors and the laws of perspective. It was thus a double bond--master and pupil, father and daughter ; and on either side it was equally strong. " I will alw.tys be your friend, little Linda," Mr. Waltersused,to say. "When I die you shall iind I have not forgotten you. I have not much to leave, but you fihtll come in for your share with the rest" But whenever he spoke like this Linda would begin to cry, and protest that she wanted nothing to do with his property and did not care to be remembered in his will. *Wnly say,** she used to sob, "ffifciJRlave been a good and obedient ^daughter to you and that I never made you angry." For Mr. Walters was a peppery-tem pered old gentleman, and had the knack of quarreling with his best friend for a Word or a look. He was the -Boanerges of his society, and his thunder was for midable. But Linda had somehow learned the secret of keeping peace with him; and never since their first ac quaintance had there been a cross word between them. Things went on comfortably enough for some years, when, one summer-- Linda being away nursing a sick sister --it is to be supposed the heat mounted to the old master's brain, for he broke oat like a tornado against a certain Mrs. Law, and the quanel became so em bittered, and the old man put himself 06 much in the wrong by his passion and violence, that he was forced to leave Fairfield and go over to Tours, where his family and certain of his friends lived. For he had a wife and children all the time; only, for sundry reasons which may well be imagined and need not be particularized, he and they found it more agreeable to have the sea between them than to live under one root Now, however, when his own home had tum bled about his ears, he was forced to rub shoulders with theirs. And so it came to pass that, Linda being still held by her duty to her sick sister, these two dear friends never met again, and only letters of adieu took the place of the daughterly devotion and fatherly pro- been the role of life prol Maz m*,-: tectiou which had Veen them. At Tours lived a certain obscure, but ambitious, and, for the matter of that, Cocentric painter called Maze. This worthy had ideas, only, but he expressed them in such hideous colore and with •neh extraordinary contortions of lines and limbs, that very few could under stand what his pictures meant when ihey were done. He called them one thing, but they might as well have been another--anything, in fact, you like to say--without much loss to sense or bability. They did not sell, but ze always asserted that one day they would, and even now other men bor rowed from them. Maze and Mr. Walters were what the world called friends. In spite of the old mister's temper he had the power of at taching people to his service, while all painters of note or aspiration clustered around him like devotees around a shrine. His talk was full of valuable information on his art, and his pro fessional criticisms were of so much ac- couut that to te able to say--" Walters told me to do this "--" Walters praised that"--was of itself as good as a diploma of merit. And Maze was a man who, of all others, kaew his best mental feeding grounds, and how to spread his own hay in the sunshine of another's intellect. Among the few things of value which lb. Walters had to leave were certain rare old bits of plate which he had picked up at curiosity shops and the like. He was fond of goldsmiths' work, and he prided himself on his judgment --perhaps a little more than it deserved. To hear him, he had as many cup9 and rases by Cellini as all the rest of the world taken together; and he even in- msted on " Michael Angelos " when the Work was specially coarse--he called it biroad--and asserted, without fear of contradiction, that he obuld see the Seat master's touch here on this silver eon as well as on the " Moses " or the " Pieta." All the same, the collection was a valuable one; and who was to have the revision was a matter of anx ious speculation among the friends. To Hone was it so anxious as to Mr. Maze, the obscure, ambitious, eccentric and impecunious genre painter at Tours. j - When the time came for the old man to j go over to the majority, and while had he j Still strength enough to arrange his af- | '; lairs according to his will, he called Blaze to him and said, "Maze, you have been uncommonly civil and attentive to <Be; and, bv the Lord, sir, I am half Inclined'to believe that you are sincere." "Make the half whole, Mr. Walters, ' and then you will square the circle," 1 '•*** .^•aid Maze, who affected as much oddity i jffc his speech as in his painting. "Well, I will; I am going to trust I jrou," Baid Mr. Walters. "Bring me fhat box, there in the corner, and take Out what you find in it. One, two, three, four," l;e added as Maze took out one by €>ne of those bits of rare old plate which I the master had picked up with so much ^tnthusiasm, cherished with so much *j^ane and the revision of which was a *^matter of much anxious thought to so 1 °Jer S l en, faintly; "she was always a good 1 and dutiful daughter to me ; she never *s | angered me, never cros«e<jy|M and I 1 want to her have sometliinfflBHjhich to remember her old father t^HPend of her life. Are those cups HwEP^aoked, Mate?" "Yes, sir; perfectly." " No chanoe of being bruised or (let tered or shaken out by the way?--no chance of those thieves of the custom house putting their roving finders into the pulling out of a stray plum, hey ?" " No, sir; I have done them up as carefully as if they were for myself," said Maze. " That is right, Maze. Ton will see to it all for my little girl--see that she gets them safe and sound and in the Btate in which they are now?" " I will see to it all, Mr. Walters; you may rely on me," eaid Maze. " It will be worse for you^if vou do not do your duty," said the old man. "Mark my words, Mara--worse for you." "Yes, sir;" said Mnze, submissively ; and with that the old master turned his face to the wall and died. The last act of his life had been to bequeath that box of rare old plate to his favorite pupil and adopted daughter, Linda. When all was over and the brave old man was buried beneath the shadow of the yew tree, in the churchyard at Tours, Maze wrote a letter to Linda in which he told her of her old father-friend's be quest; but he added this paragraph, which somewhdt spoiled the rest: " I have done my duty and fulfilled my promise to my old friend in inform ing you of this legacy; but now I put it to you to say whether or not you will accept it. Honorably and rightfully it belongs to certain members of his fam ily. who have incurred much expense, without remuneration, during this last illness of their relative, and who, there fore, are justly entitled to all there was to leave. About this there can be no two opinions with honorable people. As I think yon are one of those people, and will, therefore, see things in the light in which I have put them, I will hold the box over until I receive jour instruc tions as to its destination; that is, wheth er you will profit by the last moments of weakened intellect of a dying man, or restore to the fam ly what should never have been willed from them." Linda was not slow in deciding. One of those sensitive people who pride themselves on the purity of their love, she would always rather give than re ceive. And, indeed, to receive benefits from those whom she loved was always a matter of some pain to her. The let ter set her imagination ablaze. She seemed to hear the sneers of those who laughed at the clever way in which she had feathered her nest--the masterly manner in which she had got around the old man, so that he should leave her this splendid legacy; and she seemed to hear the reproaches of those mem bers of the family who had incurred ex pense without remuneration, and who, therefore, naturally expected to receive whatever there might be to leave. It would be dishonorable to accept this be quest, it would be mean and selfish and unworthy. Mr. Maze was quite right. It was her duty to renounce it. Where upon she wrote an impulsive letter, full of high feeling and self-abnegation, and gave up her legacy for the sake of those undesignated members to whom it rightfully belonged. And she thanked Mr. Maze for his kindness in telling her the truth. When he read that letter, Maze laughed softly to himself and passed the box through the custom house. Lina did not regret what she had dose --those whe act from principle never do --but she was certainly rather surprised not to receive a word of thanks, nor even of acknowledgment, from any one. Even Maze did not reply, and certainly no member of the family, here or else where, sent her a line. She let the thing pass, not troubling much about it; only thinking to herself that they were not quite so courteous to her as she would have been to them had their posi tions been reversed, and that she did not envy them their manners. The kaleidoscope of time changed all matters for both Linda and Mr. Maze. The former went to Touro, the latter caole to England, where one of his pict ures struck the public taste, so that he suddenly became a celebrity where few - merly he had been unknown by one-half of the world and laughed at by the other. He was now said to paint pict ures unsurpassed by any of the dead, unattainable by any of the living, mas ters. His obscure tints and strange con tortions were extolled to the skies ; and money poured like water from an arte sian well into the former dry bucket of his shallow purse. His house became the rendezvous of all the big-wigs of society, and such of the little fry as could get an invitation ; and he who had been one of the most industrious of toadies of his time was, in his turn, the most industriously toadied. He gave grand receptions and select parties; he went everywhere and received everyone; and his house, with its artistic furniture and perfect arrangement, was the talk of the multitude who thronged there. But of all hi# fine possessions, nothing was so fine as that noble buffet of old silver cups and flagons, which formed the most striking feature of the whole. Many a collector envied that buffet; and some asked anxiously where he had found them. To which he would answer carelessly that he had picked them up in old second-hand shops in London and the provinces--having made _his collec tion since he settled there. were French, all of them, but that did not prevent their having been bought second-hand in London and the prov inces. How else, indeed, could they have been picked up ? Maze had not one of them while he lived at Tours. How else, then, could he have collected them, save by careful scrutiny of old bric-a-brac shops in England and clever ly understanding good things when he saw them? But the odd part of the matter was-- they were all like poor old Mr. Walters' collection; and all like the legacy left to Linda and renounced for honorable com pensation to those members of the family who had been put to expense without remuneration. " God bless my soul, this is very like o l d W a l t e r s ' ' M i c h a e l A n g e l o 1 c r i e d one who knew, taking np a certain coarsely-wrought, but effective cup, " And I could swear this was the ' Celli ni' he used to be so proud of; and this, and this," he added, rapidly running the various pieces, while Maze cap and short-coat go to the dancing booth, as arranged by the eternal har monies of things, but you know how arbitrary he was--how he took the cord and chain into his own hands, and would not be led nor driven ? He would not listen to me; and these things were as signed to me--' as a mark of his grat itude for all that I had done for him.' He said this more than once, and to please him I consented and so let him die enthusiastically. Of course, when all was over I passed them on to certain members of his own family. And they must have sold them. Finding them scattered all abroad, like Osiris' mem ber, I made it a point of conscience to re-collect them. I bought them up, no matter what the price. It was a labor «f love, transcending filthy lucre. Here you have the whole history. Simple enough, when you oome to the pith and marrow of it I" " You are a noble fellow, Mr. Maze," •aid Mr. Hard man. " It was only loyal and honorable," •aid Maze, with the dignified humility of oonscious virtue. At Tours, Linda went to see Miss "Walters, the only representative left of the dead master's family. In the course of conversation Linda asked, " Which member of the family received that box of silver bequeathed to me by my dear eld friend and master ?" "What box? what silver?" asked Miss Walters. " Those cups and flagons whioh ho had at Fairfield. They were left to me, in the care of Mr. Maze, but he wrote to me and asked me to give them up in fa vor of certain members of the family who had incurred expense and ought to be remunerated. Of course I did; but I never heard a word from any one, and I am curious to know who had them." " My father left you a box of silver which Mr. Maze asked you to give up ?" " Yes." " For the family ?" " Yes." " The old rascal 1" shouted Miss Wal ters. She had inherited her father's temper as well as his smile. "Not a member of our family bad one single cup or vase, and we never knew what he had done with them all. Be siire, Linda, that old fox has taken them for himself. He worked on your feelings to make you give them up, and then ne secured them." " Oh, Miss Walters, is that possible?" cried that foolish Linda, beginning to cry. " I am sure of it, child. When you go to London see if M ze has not some flue old cups and things whioh he will ac count for in some extraordinary manner. I know him i" said Miss Walters, con temptuously. " I know what he is ca pable of. It were a wonder if I did not." But Linda could scarcely believe that any man in Maze's position could be guilty of such a glaring piece of iniqui ty, and one which, if she chose, she could at any time make public; for we can scarcely understand in others those things of which we ourselves could not be guilty. Nevertheless, there the mat ter stands. Maze, the noted genre painter, has a buffet full of rare old sil ver cups and flagons, recognized by those who knew as having once belonged to Mr. Walters. And Linda lost her leg acy. | AGRICULTURAL | Treatment of Bonsa. American AgrieutturM : Bones accumulate on every farm, and a hunt for them will bring out many more than one would expect to find. When properly treated, they furnish very val uable food for growing plants. Whole bones, as they are thrown out from the kitchen, are so slowly decomposed that they are of little use unless applied very largely. They need to be broken up or made fine in some way, that the large amount of phosphoric acid, etc., contained in them may be available. It is not Eracticable for ordinary farmers to have one mills, and the next-best thing is to break them up with an ax or heavy ham mer, and mix them with unleached ashes, keeping the heap moist enough so the alkali will "eat" them, and render the bones soft. The bones thus treated will crumble to fine pieoes when dried, and are then ready to be spread upon the land. Every farmer should see that all bones are made into a valuable home- fertilizer. English and American Ladies' Dress. Mrs. Scott-Siddons is quotted as hav ing said : "An American servant will tie on her veil in a natty, graceful way that an English duchess knows nothing about." Mrs. Siddous will not be charged with an over-strained regard for the Yankee, or a wish to favor them at the expense of her own countrywomen. In thus placing the servant and the duchess in contrast she was simply emphasizing a truism which was less a fact at that time than it is at the present hour. For among all civilized people the English women are the most ill dressed, and seem to lack the natural gifts, the self- reliance and ability of choice and selec tion which are the inborn attributed of American women. An English nursery set off against a nursery in this country may be taken as a type in miniature of the taste in dress and all that the term involves of the differences which charac terizes the women of the two nations. In this country little girls find constant satisfaction and congenial employment in arranging and adorning their doll's apparel. Left to their own intuitions, and hampered by little rr no pupilage from their elders, it must be owned that the taste and ingeuuity whieh they dis play are often simply wonderful. An Euglish lady who passed thirty years of her life in her native land, and who has ! lived in this city half of that time, once | said:--"The homes of American girlqi j so far as I am familiar with them, are ! sohools of art in dress adornment, and j whether their , taste and skill are natural gifts, or acquired by observation, I do ' not pretend to say, but there is nothing to compare with it in our homes in Eng land. " Consistent with this admission is the almost universal tone of the English press and of most travelers who visit our shores from other lands. That English women study comfort and provide themselves with rich fabrics and costly adornment in dress is past dis pute. A dowager or duchess arrayed in gorgeous silk, satin or velvet attire, with the complement of green gloves and yellow ribbons, and shod with broad, heavy, loose- fitting^ boots, is hardly a pleasant, though it is a con stantly recurring, picture of taste in dress among the weaithy classes iu Eng lish life. If the wearer has any idea of The things j the contrast of colors, any perception of * the shocking incongruities which the tout ensemble of her costume presents to a cultivated eye, nothing is seen of it in the ease and self-satisfaction of her demeanor. While the fact remains that American women are the best dressed ladies in the world, it is also to be re membered that while they, with a vast majority of their sex, yield to the cur rent of prevalent fashion, it is not a 1)1 md or slavish submission ; they think for themselves, and stoulty, 011 occa sion, assert their own individuality, and refuse to t-uecumb to the dictates of fashion, modiste or milliner. Their natural or cul'ivated good taste, which includes the lines of beauty, which Mr. Beeclier made himself merry over re cently, is generally all-sufficient in doubt and emergency. Their "glory" is to dress ta-stefully and becomingly. Their "hallejuah" is the acclaim of a suc cessfully consummated purpose.--Net0 York Evening Post. Blas-dma Pastors*. Many persons condemn blue-grass pastures by reason of their lack of knowledge how to use them. Blue grass never becomes tough except the seed stalks, no matter how long it is permit ted to grow. If it is cropped short, the ground becomes dry and baked and pro duces little or no pasture. We have seen thousands of acres made almost perfectly worthless in this way. Cattle are turned on it before it gets high enough to show green, and it being sweet and tender, and overstocked, it is kept in this condition all Bummer. Stock should not be turned on it until the grass is well started, and is high enough to shade and keep the sod moist and mellow. And then limit the stock so that they will not at any period in the season cut it short enough to expose the surfaoe of the soil to the sun. Thus protected the land retains its moisture, and produces an abundant orop of the best grass for stock the whole year. Other grass may be eaten short to keep it tender, but not so with blue grass. The farmer who knows how to treat his blue grass prefers it to auy other, and it will produce more food than any other grass. And the main thing to observe is not to keep too much stock for the pasture. Corn, and How to Plant Iti The best and most effective methods of cultivating this cereal have been thcrouglily tested on the experimental farm of the Rural New- Yorker, and, after a long-continued series of experi ments on all kinds of lands, and under all kinds of circumstances, that iournal sums up its, experience as follow^ : For raising corn sod ground is best. If farm manure is used, it is b 'st to harrow it in than plow it under. If spread upon the sod and plowed under, do not plow deep. If concentrated fertilizers are used, plow and harrow, and then sow the fertilizer and harrow until the ground is thorough ly tilled. All dry, concentrated fertil izers--as raw bone flour, for example-- should be well mixed with MI equal quantity of moist earth, otherwise a con siderable part of the bone flour will be blown away. A more even distribution of any kind of chemical fertilizer can be made if extended with soil than if not. A surface dressing of from 400 to 500 pounds of concentrated fertilizer on sod ground, if well prepared, is a sufficient quantity. Do not manure in the hill or drill with concentrated fertilizers. Of all methods of manuring, this is, in the end, the most wasteful and ineffectual. Plant in drills/ dropping one kernel every six inches. Mark the drills four feet apart, if the variety of corn grows as tall as ten feet, and at the first hoeing cut every other plant where the stand is full. Borne Hints on Sheep-Balking. For the last twenty years I have bought and fed sheep. I Boon learned to avoid buying grease and wrinkles, because they wouldn't fatten readily, and not sell as well. I have always handled our common Merino sheep with a fair amount of success, having bought and sold them by the car-load that averaged over 140 pounds per head, and I think they were good mutton. Bnt in 1878 I shipped to New York some sheep, the best of which I found were bought for the foreign trade, but were all dressed before shipping. I have since then tried crossing with Cotswold on very ordinary Merino ewes with great success in two ways, viz.: weight of carcass and wool. I had thirty lambs dropped in March; these I waulied the first day of August, and sheared them the eighth day; they sheared three pounds seven ounces ol very clean wool. The next May I washed, and sheared them the 8th of June, just ten months from prevlon« [ shearing. At this time they sheared eight pounds and eight ounces of the cleanest and nicest wool I ever saw. The next winter I fed and sold them, except four; those were sold averaging 172 pounds, per head, not yet 2 years old. The four'that I kept ran in dry pasture without gras:.. I received first premium at the State Fair last fall for fat sheep. --Michigan Farmer. shipped to ostensibly-honest creameries, where it is worked up and shipped to the consumers as the best of gilt-edged creamery butter. The present high price of good butter ought to guarantee a pure quality at least, but it would seem that in the scramble for money the American dairyman is rapidly becoming as unscrupulous as the renders of other fraudulent goods. The dividend-paying factories, and the concentration of the manufacture of butter into a few hands, has perhaps many advantages, but, to the lover of good, genuine butter, the system is becoming a source of suspi cion.--Chicago Tribune. Housekeepers' HeW SPAGHETTI AND TOMATO SOUFC-^! six ounces of the fine solid macaroni (spaghetti) in slightly salted water for fifteen minutes ; drain in a cloth ; out in inch lengths; put into a saucepan with two quarts of beef broth, a quart of tomato puree and a little sugar; boil ten minutes longer, skim, pour in a soup tureen, and serve with prated .Parmesan oheese arranged separately on a plate. BRANDT SNAPS--Bub one-quarter of a pound of butter into one-half pound of flour, add one-half pound of moist su gar, one-half ounce of ground ginger, and the grated rind and juioe of a lemon. Mix with a little molasses to a paste thin enough to spread on tins. Bake in a moderate oven, and when done enough cut into strips while still on the tins, and then roll it round the fingers. When cold put in a tin at once, or they will lose their crispness. RICH AND APPLE PTTDDINO.--Boil % cupful of rice ior ten minutes, drain it through a hair sieve until quite dry. Put a cloth into a pudding disli and lay the rice round it like a crust. Cut six apples into quarters and lay them in the middle of the rice with a little chopped lemon peel, a couple of cloves and some sugar. Cover the fruit with some rice, tie up tight ancl boil for an hour. Serve with melted butter sweetened and poured over it, or with cream. APFI-B FBITTERS.--Pare and core some apples and cut them into thin slices. Moisten them with sherry, pour a glass of brandy, quarter of a pound of sugar, some powdered cinnamon and grated lemon peel over them, and let them stand an hour, turning them over several times; then dip them in a fritter batter and fry them in boiling lard; drain off every particle of fat and sprinkle a little pow dered sugar over them ; serve hot. They are very nice with roast duck, or wild meat of any kind. CREAM PIE.--Take flour enough for the crust, salt it and mix with cream, roll the crust, sprinkle some flour be tween so that they need not stick to - gether,- bake in a qtiick oven ; when done separate the crusts and take two t&ble-spoonfuls of flour, the same of white sugar, one egg; beat all together; boil one-half pint of milk, put in the batter of sugar and egg and stir till it thickens, then add some extract of lemon, and put it between the crusts and you have a nice pie. ABOUT SOUPS.--Many housekeepers do not realize that soup should be the daily, and not the occasional introduction to the dinner. Well made, nothing can be more palatable, and few things are more generally relished. For those who do not care for soup every day, the Bruns wick soups are so easily prepared that it is well to always have half a dozen cans in the house ; then, if company comes at the " last minute," as company will sometimes, and your dinner is scant, the soup will cover all defi ciencies, for soup, as the old man said, " is very flllin'." I think that the cans of beef and ox-tail prepara tions make the most eatable soups. Every kitchen should be furnished with a porcelain-lined kettle, and tight-fitting cover, to be used in the preparation of soups. The liquor in which meats have been boiled furnishes an excellent basis. After the meat is served, the liquor can be cooled; then the fat removed from the top ; then strained through a sieve and placed in a cool place for use the next day. For vegetable soup, add to the liquor a ffinely-cliopped onion, car rot, potato, two or three stalks of celery ' and a table-spoonful of rice or barley. Let the soup come to a boil, then skim the scum from the top; after this keep it slowly simmering until required for the table. a fever or inflammation somewhere, and th» body ij feeding on itself; as in < oi- sumption, when the pulse is quick, that is over 70, gradually increasing, with decreased chances of enre, until it reaches 110 to 120. when death comes before many days. When the pulse is over 70 for months, and there is a slight cough, the lungs are affected. There are, however, peculiar constitutions in which the pulse may be over 70 in health. ̂ Dullness of Inowledge. lite fact is, the world is accumulating too many materials for knowledge. We do not recognize for rubbish what is really rubbish. As each generation leaves its fragments and postherds be hind it, such will finally be the desper- 'ate conclusion of the learned.--Haw thorne. This sentiment was arrived at by Hawthorne thirty years ago jnst after he had taken an excursion through the British Museum. He came out of the marvelous place bewildered and de pressed. His quick mind had taken in at a glance the countless objects of knowl edge spread out before it in this museum. He could see the vast range, bnt knew that he could not compass it. There it was that he felt "life is short and art is long." When he went to his room after the ramble he wrote in his Note Book: "It is a hopeless, and to me, generally, a depressing business, to go through an immense, multifarious show like this, glancing at a thousand things, and conscious of some little titii- lation of mind from them, but really taking in nothing." There are minds one often comes in contact with which are spacious museums of knowledge. We say they know everything. Their minds are of the encyclopsedean order. Every cranny of their mental storehouse is stuffed with facts. Their memory is a scroll which never gets done unrolling. On and on it comes. We know these tiresome people who know everything, and escape them when we can. Who cares always to be in the society of per sons who are perpetually exuding ac quired information? It is usually the character of these human knowledge- boxes that they possess little or no orig inality. They must tell us many facts we did not know, but they are given out in such a dry, cheerless manner, that one hears them without receiving them. Here is where our system of education has so far been a partial failure. It has been conducted mainly on the cramming process. Only as it has broken away from this has it been successful. 1 he mind which has learned to think will, as Lord Bacon said, always find plenty of "stuff" on which to exercise its powers. Very few who know every thing can do anything well. They can accomplish a feat mechanically; but they cau give it no originality. What ever they do will be in imitation. Charles Sumner is said to have known so many things that the immensity of his knowl edge was a burden upon him. When he came to speak he hardly knew what to omit from his great storehouse. He was a man of genius, and could light up his words. Webster knew much less than Sumner, -but his mind was alive and touched every subject with originality and new life. A free, active mind that has been taught to think for itself will create, but the mind that is dull with too much knowledge will model and imitate. --Indianapolis Herald. many friends. "Now pack these care fully and address the box to my little daughter Linda. The others I give to Dashe and Star." "Yes, sir," said Maze, glibly as to B, heavily as to heart; for nothing assigned to him--not a cup, not a --and he had spent his time and 1 of his not* over fat substance in jfing the old gentleman, hoping substantial solatium when all And now he saw himself cut a little girl whom he did not , of whose friendship with the was, as well as were some ally jealous. ttle*Li_ida?" said Mr. Walt- stood by, quite calm and smiling. " Yes," he answered, "they are his. They found their way in some odd man ner over here, and I recognized them for my old friend's favorites* and picked them up wherever I saw them." " Who inherited them ? " asked Hard- man, the man who knew. " Well," said Maze, with the shy look of a good man caught out in a virtuous action which he had wished to keep secret; "to tell the truth, Hardman, they were left to me. I implored the dear old man not to make such an in vidious distinction in favor of an out sider, to let the sleeper wear the nigh* BERLIN has a negro colony of about sixty persons, many of whom came from this country, th nigh others are natives of Africa and arrived direct. With one excegtipn they are all employed as ser vants. ' One is a servant to Prince Charles. Many of them have not only acquired the German language, but are said to use The real Berlin dialect. Three have married jvliitQ girls. A LITTLE daughter of a Methodist min ister was invited by a friend to spend a few days with her. The mother said as she left: ""l>wi't you think matnma will be tehile you are away ?" " OL ao» ^ie niord will be with you, iu I'll be homqfgoo, '̂' waB the reply. Coloring- Butter. The practice of coloring butter has of late years become well nigh universal in nearly all the great dairy districts of the country. There are innumerable patent doctorings used for this purpose, and it has become a part of every butter mak er's outfit to have on hand a supply of coloring, by the use of which he is en abled to grass butter during the entire year. At all events the coloring gives the butter s rich, yellow appearance, which, although it is a species of decep tion, is none the less what might be termed the winning card played by the buttermakers. The manufacturers of the compounds claim that, being made from purely vegetable matter, no injurious effects can possibly follow its use, yet there are those who claim that these coloring compounds are more or less injurious. The demand for rich yellow butter con tinues, and in order to supply this de mand it becomes necessary to resort to artificial means to secure the color. Butter of the natural white color, as is the case when cows are off grass feed, will not bring as high a price, although perfectly sweet and pure, as the same quality permeated with coloring matter, which brings out a yellow, creamy ap pearance. People, particularly in cities, are sufficiently well pleased with any thing that tastes sweet, and it is be come a question whether the countless imitations of butter do not answer every purpose. In many cases consumers cannot tell the difference, and some practical men assert that Chicago grocers purchase oleomargarine and other substances and sell the stuff for prim© creamery. The efforts of the produce dealers of this city to prevent this traffic do not seen^ perfectly con sistent when^'H stops(to consider that nearly every filled with thi cent Eastern dreds of barrel in the man' of real butter is •ring frauds. A re- ge says that hun- the peculiar oil used of oleomargarine are The Dog of Niagara. It has always been supposed that no living being could be swept over Niag ara falls and survive the terrible plunge. The feat, however, was successfully per formed by a dog a few days ago. The name of this able animal is unknown, and it is only too probable that he will be mentioned in history merely as the Dog of Niagara. He first attracted attention while he was in the rapids above the falls, and as he struggled with the current which was swiftly sweeping him along it was sup posed that he had only a few moments tb live. He was seen to plunge over the falls, and then, to the amazement of all who had watched his descent, he emerged from the cloud of spray that rises at the foot of the cataract, and climbed upon a cake of floating ice. The news that a dog had gone over the falls and was still alive spread rapidly, and in a few moments the bank of the river was lined with people. The dog floated down tOe river on his cake of ice, but he had very little confidence in its seaworthy qualities, and howled loudly for help. Of course no one could help him, for it would have been impossible- to reach him with a boat, and had a rope been thrown to him as he passed under the Suspension Bridge it is hardly prob able that he could have caught it. Some distance below the bridge the river forms a t r ible whirlpool, and when the dog and his cake of ice reached the whirlpool they were carried around at a frightful speed. Presently the cake of ice broke in two, aud the dog was thrown into the water. He struggled bravely for a few moments, and then disappeared under the waves, and never rose again. When it is remembered that when the dog reached the foot of the falls, hun dreds of tons of water must have fallen upon him and beaten him down toward the bottom of the river, it seems almost incredible that he should have been able to rise to the surface and to reach his cake of ice. Had he escaped the whirl pool and reached the shore, ho would have beeu the most famous of living dogs.--Harper's Young People. Learn About the Pulse. Every person should know how to as certain the state of the pulse in health; then, by comparing it when he is ailing, he may have some idea of the urgency of his case. Parents should know the health pulse of each child, as n »w and then a person is born with a peculiarly slow or fast pulse, and the very case in hand may be of that peculiarity. An infant's pulse is 140; a child of 7 about 80, and from 20 to 60 years is 70 beats a minute; declining to 60 at fore-score. A healthy grown person's pulse beats 70 times a minute. There may be good health down to 60, but if the pulse al ways exceeds 70 there is a disease, the machine is working itself out; there is The Philosopher and the Flrg^ This is the tale of the philosopher and t h e f l e a : 1. The former, having been bitten by the latter, seized and was about to dispatch his foe, when he reflected that the little iusect had only acted from in stinct, and was not to be blamed. Ac cordingly he deposited the flea on the back of a passing dog. 2. This dog was the poodle of a lady, and she was very fond of the pretty ani mal. On his return to the house his mis tress took him upon her lap to caress him, and the flea embraced his oppor tunity to change his inhabit. 3. The flea having in the course of the night engaged in active business op erations, awakened the lady. Her hus band was sleeping peacefully beside her, and in the silence of her chamber she heard him in his dreams whisper with an accent of ineffable tenderness a name! The name was that of her most intimate female friend ! ! • 4. As soon as it was day, the out raged wife hurried to the house of her rival, and told the rival's husband of the big, big, d--ing discovery she had made. He, being a man of decision, at once called out the destroyer of his house hold's peace, and ran him through. 5. The widow, when her husband was taken home to her upon the medium of a shutter, was so tenibly smitten with remorse that she precipitated herself from the fourth-story window. 6. The other lady convinced her hus band that he had wronged her by enter taining any suspicions as to her fidelity, and, becoming reconciled with him seized an early opportunity of poisoning him. 7. Inasmuch as the jurors of that country had never heard of "extenn ating circumstances," and the chief magistrate thought that he could putxa murderer to better uses "than not guil- lioting him, the guilty woman was duly decapitated, and the sole purvivors of the tragedy were the philosopher and "Ihe flea. \ ees» Canada and the (Ja® 1 remember a curious incident cnat happened in Canada in oonnection with the British national anthem. In one of my lectures 1 describe the pathetio abandonment of state ceremony at San- dringham, while the Prince of Wales lay ttick there of what threatened so formidably to be a fatal illness. The audience listened spellbound. I uttered the sentence " The Queen strolled up and down in front of the house, unat tended, in the brief interval she allowed herself from the sick-room." Suddenly came an intt rruption. A tall, gaunt figure in the crowd uprose, and pointing at me a long finger on the end of a long arm, uttered the word "Stop!" Then, facing the audience,' he exclaimed : "Ladies and gentlemen! This loyal audience will now sing ' God save the Queen !' " The audience promptly stood up and obeyed with genuine fervor, I meanwhile patiently waiting the finale of the interlude. When it had finished I proceeded with my narrative, and as a contrast to the suffering of Sandringham, depicted the happy pageant in St. Paul's Cathedral on the thanksgiving day for the Prince's recovery. It is the custom in Canada to propose a vote of thanks to the lecturer, aud the chairman arose and uttered the usual formula. Again the tall, gaunt figure was on its legs. " Ladies and gentlemen," said he, " I rise to propose an amendment to the motion. I move that the lecturer be requested to repeat that portion of the lecture referring to our gracious sover eign." And repeat it I did.--Archibald Forbes in th&flentury. PITH AN® PDLST, TBB aight of a novel is no novel THE money-lender's motto-"A kshairgiite to keep I have." THK man who broke into an ale •anil burst into bitter tiers. MEN and watches dont MMMII |§- much when they run down. THE strongest man is rarely strong enough to hold his tongue at the righl time. p'", ^ Fooo says beef should be classed u4» der the head of game, because it is de§ meat. WHAX*B in a name? That which cauliflower by any other name would taste as good. IT is noted by a philologist thai possesses" possesses more ss than any other common word possesses. "THESE," said the dealer, "is a car* Kt that can't be beat." And the man ught it. He hates carpet-beating. FASHION at a picnic demands that a girl shall get wet sooner than hoist an umbrella that does not match her suit. INNOCENCE is very much like a bank bill of a large denomination--yon often hear of its being lost, but never of its being found. A DISAPPOINTED young man says ha wishes he was a rumor, because a rumor soon gains currency, which he has never been able to do. RALPH WALDO EMERSON amassed a fortune of over $200,000. He didn't make money as fast m Billy Emerson, but he saved more. AN esteemed exchange says tllBre ape seventeen red-headed girls in a neighbor* ing town, and lets himself out of trouble by remarking that they are all belles.-- Lotvsll Citizen. POLYDIPSIA is the Boston namo for thirst. When suffering from polydipsia the Boston man calls for spiritus munen- ti, and then washes it down with pro toxide of hydrogen. "WHAT is your income?" was once asked of a noted Parisian Bohemian. "It is hard to tell," was the reply; "but in good years I can borrow at^ least 10,000 francs." MASTER--" What does Condillae say about brutes in the scale of beting Y* Scholar--" He says a brute is an imper fect animal." "And what is a man?" "Man isNa perfect brute." Kix.1. time to-day, and, to your IOTTOIS He'll Btetn you in the face to-morrow; Kill him again, in any way. Hell plague yon Btill from day to day; Till, in the end, an 1B rnout due, Time tunia the tab.es mid killa yon. "MY dear son," exclaimed old Mrs. Jenkins last evening, "I wouldn't ge out without something over me. Put on your overcoat or your cardamon jacket, or you will catch your death of ammonia. SHKKIDAN met a friend who was terri bly given to fibbing, and acoosted him thus: " Been to church to-day, Jones?" " No," was the quick response; " I'te been on the bed all day." "Just as I expected," chimed in Sheridan;" you're always lying." "WHAT are your politics, uncle?" asked an Austin candidate of an old negro on crutches. "I dunno, boss." " Are you radical ?" "No, sah.H "Are you Democratic?" "I reckon so; I'se rheumatic. Demmycratio and rheu matic am pretty much de same, I reckin. Dey sounds mighty alike."-- Texas Sif tings. A CLERGYMAN, interrogating a Sunday- school class of boys, said, " What is a miracle?" "Dunno." Well, if the sun were to shine in the middle «f the night what Bhould you say it was?" " I should eay it was the moon." "But if you were told that it was the sun what should yoa say it was ?* " A lie." " I don't tell lies, my boys. Now suppose I assured you it was the sun, what would you say ?" *' That yer wasn't quite sober." LUCYB .: "There iB a young man paying his attentions to me. I do not like him, and want to get rid of him. How can I do' it without hurting his feelings?" We suppose if you were to make some sarcastic remarks about the size of his feet or the area of his abun dant ear that it would hurt his feelings ; so we can suggest nothing but that you work up an ice-cream appetite and scat ter hints about a yearning you have to go buggy-riding at his expense every evening in the gloaming.--Texas Sitt ings. Miss JULIA JACKSON, the daughter of Stonewall Jackson, has a will of her own. "Remember," she once said to her mother, haughtily, "that I am a Jackson." "Yes," said Mrs. Jackson, "and I am your mother."--New York Tribune. A Chicago girl had a will of her own. " Remember," she once said to her mother, haughtily, " that I have the only bustle in this house that is fit to wear." "Yes," said her mother, " and I can yank it off and send you to bed so quick that it will make your head swim." When it comes to getting up emotional lies on society topics, Chicago will not be left.--Chicago Tribune. A BBAVE nation, like a brave man, de sires to see and measure the perils whieh threaten it.--Garfield. \ f Longfellow's Independence. The most urbane and sympathetic of men, never aggressive, nor vehement, nor self-asserting, he was yet thoroughly independent, and the individuality of his genius held its tranquil way as surely as the river-Charles, whose placid beauty he so often sang, wound through the meadows calm and free. When Long fellow came to Cambridge, the impulse of Transcendentalism in New England was deeply affecting scholarship and lit erature. It was represented by the most- original of American thinkers and the typical Ameiican scholar, Emerson, and its elevating, purifying and emancipat ing influences are memorable in our moral and intellectual history. Long fellow lived in the very heart of the movement. Its leaders were his cher ished friends. He, too, was a scholar and devoted student of German litera ture, who had drunk deeply also of the romance of German life. Indeed, his first important works stimulated the taste for German studies and the enjoy ment of its literature more than any other impulse in this country. But he remained without the charmed Trans cendental circle, serene and friendly and attentive. There are those whose career wa#J wholly molded by the intellectual revival of that time. But Longfellow was untouched by it, except as his sym pathies were attracted by the vigor and purity of its influence. His tastes, his interests, his activities, his career would have been the same had that great light never shone. If he had been the duc tile, echoing, imitative nature that the more ardent disciples of the faith sup posed him to be, he would have been absorbed and swept away by the flood. But he was as untouched by it as Charles Lamb by the wars of Napoleon. --George William Curtis. WHEN Mr. Fish had his children's portraits painted they were spoken of as sardines--little Fishes done up in oil.--- Daily Graphic. THK Chinese in California, as a rule, dtess better than white workingmen. \