, . ^ *** r % r < J f £ >• v * , v " - v , . ; y: ;j*y •"' :?Yi y*-i» '^Y7. r w,> ••,.? ,-v M.fwfS| "^^SSSSSSS^^jSSSSJS 1878. (rripyfi-pi januaIy, ••f5 F6«RU^RY ft 4 & 3*111 Ht, 18[|#» 2&!2tf2 * 16 AUGUST. 1MIP.I8 MARCH. SEPTEMBER. n i© it 44 m *5*# 6! 7 1814 $0*1 2712828 • m 91 8 16] 15 23 22 80 29 12 19120 25 26 27 APRIL. OCTOBER. WW 3 4 O'lOll §122 2S 24;2o *82980 s • • 6 18 19i20 13 26127 20 27 w * » 2' 8 910 16117118 22 23 24 2d 29 iSOiS 1 MAY. NOVEMBER. 1 M K !• J, . i •- "i 18|14!15;16 2012122 28 J(j,27;28 25):W>; JUNE. f» » 4 11 8 18 10 G 7 v s 2 9 111213141516 25 17(1819 20 2122 23 24 25j26 27!28!29i30 DECEMBER. 5 «. V S >B JC T W T 6 12113 19120 2627 15 15:16 221221^3 29 29130 F|8 61 7 12 13114 19 20 21 26j27 28 ?-•*M£ { ••• . • '* * "• hi Atf ronouiieal-lS.S,. . *%ie Toriow^^ arc the principal astnmoni&aT •phenomena of the year 1S7S. The times given -lire Chicago mean time, and the appearance is t presented to an observer in this cityt un- otlierwise stated: i4 SC1TOATO. July 7.14,21, 28. t Aug. 4.11,18, 25. *-<- Sept, 1.8, 15,22.29. * Oct 6.13, 20. 24. • Nov. 3,10, 17,24. Dec • 1, 8,15,22,29. [yot'.--April 21 (marked with H *) will b# tister Sunday, being the Sunday next following e tirst full moon that occurs after the date of £he vernal equinox.] \ an. 6.18, 2\ 27. >b. 3. 10.17. 24. " ch 3.10.17.24,81. ii 7, 14, *21.23. .ay 5, 12, 19, 26. unc 2.9,16,23,80. MONTA'- • **v- anuary--.. 8 ^ebruasjfc*.-.. 2 reh. 8 . p r i l . - 2 • .v 2 ..a u ne..........80 uly .29 UtfUSt J8 tember...2£i >ber 25 ember...24 .28 THE MOON. New moon. . A. m. 13 a. m. 26 a. m. 27 p. m. 24 p. m. 00 a. m. 67 p. m. 40 a. m. 50 p. m. 09 a. m. 20 a. m, 08 p. m. 20 a. m. 34 p. m. Full moon. 17 16 14 14 12 U 11 9 9 21 p. m. 26 a. m. 16 p. m. 07 a. m. 41 a. m, 00 p. m. 04 a. m. 26 p. m. 59 a. m. 04 a. m. 44 p. m. 00 p. m. moon; Sept. 25 will be only half a degree north from Mercury, and Sept. 90 will oe a than 1degitoe north from liars. Except to thdee irho riSB before the Bun, the planet Venus will be an interesting object only dor- iBtihe first month of the year. Man--At the beginning of the year this planet will be nearly on the meridian at 6 o'clock in the evening, a little southeast from Algenib; and from that time gradually neara the sun till Sept. IB, the date of hts conjunc tion. Mars will not be a prominent object in 1878, though easily recognlaed in the evening sky (in the west) during the first two yionths of the year. Mpittr--Will be in conjunction with the sun Jan. 5, and be a morning star during the first half of the year. June 17, near midnight, he will be less than half a degree north from the moon, and will be again nearly in conjunc tion with her in the morning of July 15. Ten days afterwards he will be in opposition to the sun, being then less than 2 ue^ees south from Pi in Capricorn. He will be anrong the unprtMniueiii alum of Capricorn and Aqua ries during the remainder of the year, being an evening star through the autumn months. In the evening of Oct. 81 the moon will pass a very little to the southward of Jupiter. hutunt--Will be an evening stM till March 13, the date of his conjunc tion with the sun; and a morning star thereafter till Sept. being in opposition to the sun oniv 1~Mi hours before tbe Autumnal Equinox. He will be an evening star during the last three months of the year. In January he will be near the head of the Western Fish, south from the Square of Pegasus, and a very interesting object through the telescope, as his ring system will be near the vanishing point. Tne ring will disappear about <i. and remain invisible till March 1, when the plane of the rings will be in line with the earth. Saturn is then too near the sun to be a prominent object. At the date of opposition (September) he will be 17 degs. south from Algenib, nearly i/i line with the eastern side of the Square' of Pegasus; and will be not far from that position during the remainder of the year, not near any promi nent star. - Cranus--Will lie barelv visible to the naked eye as a star of the sixth magnitude during the earlv part of the year. His opposition to the sun occurs during the night of Feb. 15, and his conjunction Aug. 22. He will be near Uegulus the leading star of Leo, during the whole vear, and during the night of Feb. 1 will be onlv 20minutes of are north from that star. "July 'J4 he will be but a little more than 16 minutes north from Reguhis. lie may be found by reference to that star when in a position favorable for observation; but will probably require a good eye to "pick him up," owing to his nearness to the bright star above named. Xeptnne--Will be in opposition to the sun Oct. 31. at which time his right ascension will be 2h. 31m. 38s., and his declination north 13 degrees 1 minute. He will be a little above the principal stars in the head of Cetus during the vear. He can only be seen by the aid of a good telescope.--Chimr/o Tribune. Small Critics. Hie moon will be nearly in perigee at the tiroes of Full, in January, February, March aud April; and nearly in apogee at||j#| tupe of JFull in November and December. TBB SEASCM " Vernnl Equinox--March 20,11 rf52 a. m. r;<i Summer Solstice--June 21, 8:13a. m. M Earth in Aphelion--July 2. 2:30 a. m. Autumnal Equinox--Sept. 22. 10:36 p. m. 1 Winter Solstice--Dec. 21, 451 p. m. ECLIPSES. There will be four eclipses duriiqj the year, /two of each luminary, as follows: An annular eclipse of the sun, near two ^o'clock in the morning of Feb. 2; which will, ^therefore, be invisible to the people on this sa,, ^.jpart. of the earth's surface. It will be partial- £ \ r 3y visible from nearly the whole of Australia, r * Ibut from neither of the Continents, its north- i 'jeru limit being south of the southernmost capes of Asia and Africa. \ A partial eclipse of the moon in the morn- '„ îng of Feb. 17, visible from the United States. ™"Ue moon will enter the earth's shadow at 3h. a. m., aud leave it at Oh. 4*%ni. a. m. .At 5ii. 2lrn., the middle of the eclipse, 0.84 of , • . i'the moon's diameter will be obscured. The ^ iir.t fjivorahle foi* general observation [ *, i from this section. " i "•« A total eclipse of the sun, July 29, visible to r - - f t nil parts of North America. The line ofytotal- *4 itv rune througb KamschatkaxBehring's straits, Alaska, British America, Western Montana, v Western Wyoming, Western Colorado, passing ; ialK>ut 1 degree southwest of Denver City, and across Texas to the Gulf of Mexico, near Galveston City. At Chicago the eclipse will ^ v be partial, nearly 0.8 of the snn's diameter ffjf .being obscured at about 4h. 41m. p. m., which >. : v is the time of the greatest phase as seen from ithis city. A partial eclipse of the moon in the after noon and evening of Aiag. 12, partially visible from Chicago. The moon will enter the shadow at 4li. 52m p. m., being then below the horizon: and will leave it at 7h. 44m. p. m., when she will be little more than lial£ au hour high. THE PIAXBT8. Mercmy--Will be at his greatest, elongation west, rising before the sun, at the following dates: Feb. 2 (25k deg.), June2 (34#deg.), Sept. 25 (18 deg.) . . His greatest elongations east, setting after ,T; .the sun, will !»e as follows: April 15 (20 deg.), Aug. 13 (273^ deg.), Dec. 8 (21 deg.) The first-named date will be the most favorable for •observation with the naked eye in northern latitudes. Those who, like Copernicus on liis ceath-bed, regvet never to have seen Mercury, will do well to look for him the cveniugs of April 14 and 15, just after sunset, a little south from the point where the sun sinks be- - ^ Jow the horizon. V'"&& of May the planet will transit the * fun'* disc; the interesting phenomenon beiug I \ visible from the whole of the American Conti- '{. _j nent. The transit will begin at about 9h. 24 a. e>, *?" an<? en(^ 4h. 58m. p. ni-; the total dura- k. • ^ lion l>eing 7 hours 34 minutes. At noon the r • gManet will be very nearly one-third of the SI ' •jjn's apparent diameter below his upper limb, i* !Ehe first contact will occur 45 degrees eact, ' and the last 1€0 degrees west, from the (as- |;-f* ' *ronomifally) lKtrtbern point of the solar disc. • Ventts-- Will be near her greatest eastern . v -«longaAion at the opening of the year, setting ' iC £. after tne sun, and will be a very prominent ob- ,'t iect in the evening sky during Januarr, as she t attains her greatest brilliancy on the 10th, fef when she will be a few degrees south from |£~Ah< the of Aquaries. At the close of January s v' die will be stationary, & degs. south from y Lambda in Aquaries. Feb, 20 is the date of v, her inferior conjunction with the sun. She ffeSf?."" "Will theueafter be a morning star till Dec. 5* A3, the date of her superior conjunction with the £•• / , enn. She attains her greatest brilliancy ^ '"v , March 28; being then nearly midway between 1 Alpha in Aquaries and Mu "in Capricorn. In v. i the morning of April 28 she will be about s"4' .$ degs. sewth from the moon. May 1, she - .attami her greatest western elongation, 46 I' ' 11 n3e0. 7 being then a little below the r' '-r " .qnadrflateral ih the Western Fish. May 6 she ̂ •, îU be m ifcgs. north from Satorn. In the r morning of Aug. 2ft she will be very near the AMOHG the evils to be feared in this life we may class small critics, and by the term we mean observing chil dren, who have not been taught to keep their ideas private. " Children and fools tell the truth," says the old saw, and most of us shrink from the truth in many cases. It would seem, sometimes, as if there were a class of small imps invented ex pressly to feel out our' tender-places and weak spots and comment on them; and if we have a leading wickedness, or besetment, they are sure to bring it to light, and prominently, too. These small critics approach you un der the guise of friendliness. They love you, they want to kiss you, and of course, if you are a woman, you cannot resist that* appeal, and you suffer them to climb into your lap, and leave the marks of becandied fingers on your waist, and rub off their boot-blacking ,on your side-plaiting. And after they have kissed you, sever • ally, for there are always two or three of them, they will show you how observ ing they are by remarking among them selves:" • *% • . 1 "Her teeth »in't the kind that growed!" • \4 Ain't she got a funny nose?" "Can't she eat a lot with such a wide mouth?" . . Have you a mole, or freckles on your face, your small critic comments on the facts, and wonders how the}' came there. Have you incipient crows1-feet at the corners of your eyes, the small critic notices them, and asks you who puckered you up so. The little touch of rouge which you flattered yourself nobody in the world could detect, is spied out by your small critic, who wants to know if you put cranberries on your cheeks, and what yon did it for. Have you torn your 'dress, and contrived some trimming to hide the rent, the small critic becomes in some mysterious way possessor of the secret, and draws everybody's attention to. it by asking what you put such a fuiiny little patch on there for. He will notice if your hands are large, and he is interested as to the size of the shoe you wear, and he will want to know how old you are, and if you have got any more clothes at home. A bald-headed man never escapes the small critic--all afflictions or in firmities are so much stock in trade for the little imp, who seems to have no idea that people have feeling to be hurt. • If you «how any ill-temper your small critic is amazed, and he runs ahd shouts to his ma that " you have got mad be cause he said your nose was crushed," or something equally as hate ful. He is fond of making comparisons. He will inquire in his sweetest tone if you don't wish you had a white skin like sister Marv^s, instead of being all dried up like the head of papa's l>a8e drum? He wants to know if your hair grows on your head? and where you got your ring? and what makes you eat so much? and who pulled out your eyebrows? afid a thousand and one other items of the same general character. Where there are lovers, a small critic is a fiend. He will be sure to let out everything which should be kept pri vate; ana if Sallie rouges, and puts glycerine on her hair, he will tell Henry of it at once; and if Henry's whiskers are dyed, and his hair is getting thin on the top of his head, the small critic will announce the fact before the whole family, and then beg for five cents to buy candy with. And the man whe can bestow the nickel under such cir cumstances is a masculine angel, so far as temper is concerned. --Kale Thorn in N. jr. Weekly. ; ] r; Orchard* W Milk* Cream Soap a Ml Candlea-SoM« IMk Tr«e» and OM Onea-Bngllala Oalia- An Ancient ttcwtadl-riane Trees of Greece-Moarter free* of Califor nia and Au*lralla-The Pine and Palm-%V11 Iowa and Kl ma--Historic Trees of the I'nlted States# THERE are numerous remarkable and historic trees, among which may be named the bread-fruit tree of Ceylon, the fruit of which is baked and eaten as we eat breAd, and is equally good and nutritious. In Barbuta, South Amer ica, is a tree which, by piercing the trunk, produces milk, with which the inhahitants feed their children. In the interior of Africa is a tree which pro duces excellent butter. It resembles the American oak, and its fruit, from which the butter is prepared, is not un like the olive. The great traveler, Park, declared that the flavor surpassed any made in England from cows' milk. At Sierre Leone is the cream fruit tree, which is quite agreeable in tatfte. At Table Bay, near the Cape of Good Hope, is a small tree, the berries of which make excellent candles. It is also found in the Azores. The vege table tallow tree also grows in Suma tra; and the bark of a tree in China produces a beautiful soap. The taly- pot tree in Ceylon grows to the height of 100 feet., the leaf of which is so large that it will cover nearly twenty people, like an umbrella. The banyan tree is wonderful; it never dies, and is con stantly extending, for, as the branches shoot downward, they take root, and thus produce other trees, whose branches in like manner extend on ward, and resemble large Qaks, the fruit of which is much like rich scarlet figs, and furnishes a luxurious subsist ence to monkey^rand birds of every de scription. The pippul tree is said to be " the most completely beautiful of all which adorn the wide garden of nature." The Hindoos call it the "tree of God," and the "religious fig," because under its shade they suppose their god Vishnu was born. It is held by them in such veneration that the form of the leaves is only allowed to be painted on furni ture used by their Princes. They plant them as memorials of persons de ceased; thev serve also for shade for travelers, the Chinese feed vast num bers of silk-worms on this tree. One of the most remarkable trees in history is the great dragon tree, which was blown down by a hurricane, a few years since, at Orotava, in the Island of Teneriffe. It was a stately tree, about eighty feet high, as early as 1402, and so old and remarkable a tree then as to excite particular notice and care for its preservation. Humboldt spoke of it some sixty-two years ago, and computed it to be 6,000 years old. Sir George Staunton had previously brought it into notice, in 1771. A cypress tree in Oaxaca, Mexico, which, forty-three years ago, measured 120 feet in height, 117 feet ten inches in circumference, and which sheltered Hernan Cortez and his followers under its wide-spreading boughs, about the year 1520, is supposed to be now 5,000 years old. A type of antiquity in the vegetable kingdom is thftt of a fig tree in Ceylon, planted, according to documentary and traditional evidence, 288 B. C., making it 2,165 years old. The oldest oak in England is in Here fordshire, situated in Hatfield Park. It is over 1,000 years old. Beneath its --Mrs. Fremont says thait when she went to San Francisco, in '48, visits in the day time were held as a marked at tention. She was told that "time was worth fifty dollars a minute," and that she must hold as a great compliment branches Princess Elizabeth, while a prisoner at Hatfield, during hef daily rambles in the park, often sat in medi tation and solitude, and here she was sitting when the tidings reached her of Queer Mary's death and her own eleva tion tc the throne. Another old oak is the " Parliament Oak," from the tra dition of Edward I. holding a Parlia ment under its branches, on one of the estates of the Duke of Portland. It is considered to be 1,300 years old. The tallest oak in England was the prop erty of the same xiobleman, and was called the "Duke's Walking-Stick." It was higher than Westminster Ab bey. The largest oak is known as Calthorp Oak," Yorkshire; it meas ures seventy-eight feet round the ground, while " the Three-Shire Oak," at Worksop, is so called from its shade covering part of the Counties of York, Nottingham and Derby In London, the now almost lifeless trunk of a venerable sycamore tree is fostered with great care, marking the spot by the old Thames wall where was once the margin of the river, and where Oliver Goldsmith, Dr. Johnson and their companions sat for hours in the summer season At Fortworth, in Gloucestershire, is a large chestnut tree. Its circumfer ence, five feet from ground, is over fifty feet. As it was mentioned as a boundary mark of the manor in the reign of "Stephen, was famous in King John's time for its magnitude, and was in existence in the time of Egbert, it may be even older than 1,000 years. The " Castagno de Cento Cavalli,' the famous Jhestnut tree on Mount Etna, is probably the largest chestnut tree in the world, the trunk of which is described by Brydone as resembling five large trees growing together, ant having a hollow cavity more than sixty feet in diameter. There is an exceed ingly ancient rose tree at Hildesheim in Hanover, which is still flourishing. It was in existence when Christianity was little more than 1,000 years old; at present it is growing against the .cathedral wall. It varies but slightly from the common dog rose. The stein is two inches thick at its junction with the root, and the whole plant covers some twenty-fou- square feet of the wall. ' Bishop Hfci?uo, who nourished 1054-1079, took special interest in this rose as being a remarkable monument of the past. Tradition states that in the year of grace 814, the Emperor Ludwig the Pious, son ot Charlemagne planted this rose. The plane trees of Greece are of im mense magnitude. One of this species is on the European side of the Bos phorus, and is conjectured by M. de Candolle to be more than 2,000 years old. When measured in 1831 it was found to be 140 feet in circumference at the base and 100 feet high. Its branches are said to be more like a forest than like a single tree. Its sides are cavern the brief visits madelo her during the I ous, and shelter the herdsnien, irho dpy. , j make fires in these hollows. There, are wonderful trees Califor nia, some of which run up "from 800 to 400 feet. The stump of one tree meas ured on its surface a space of 600 square feet. One called the " Fallen Monarch/' which has for years lain prostrate, is nineteen feet in diameter at the base, and six feet at a distance of 200 feet from the butt, but the greatest wonder is the "Grizzly Giant, which,, ninety feet from the ground, has a limb six feet and six inches in diameter. The trunk is twenty feet in diameter eleven feet above the ground. There are giant trees in Western Australia. One near Warren River, re cently discovered, was found to be 200 feet hitjh, and large enough to permit three riders and an additional pack- horse to enter its hollow trunk and turn in it without dismounting. The pine is a tree of remote anti quity, and from its widespread dis tribution carries with it the evidence of its importance in the economy of the earth's surface. By a peculiar struc ture the pine is able to resist tempests and storms that prostrate other trees of harder materials. It thrives on sandy plains and elevated baiTens, where other vegetation could htfrdly be sus tained. The historical pine tree on Isle aux Pois, known as the "English Lookout," from having been used tor a post of observation by the English after their retreat from New Orleans, has recently been destroyed. The" Thou- sand-Mile Tree" is said to be the only oine tree between Omaha and Salt ake. . The palms have been called "the Princes among trees," to which honor their stately growth, beautiful foliage and useful productions may entitle them. Some palms have leaves ten feet long, and others reach to twenty feet, and some are adorned with colored spots and stripes. There is a willow in Pemiscot Coun ty, IMo., that measures twenty-four feet in circumference at the base, and is 100 feet in height. There is a wil low in Trenton, N. J., whose history is remarkable. It was formed by the im portation of a branch from the original willow that shaded the tomb of Napo leon Bonaparte at St. Helena. There are many noted and noble elm trees in the United States. The his toric elm on Boston Common, which was blown down during a gale of wind, Feb. 15, 1876, was known as the "big tree" land " Liberty Tree." In 1835 the tree was accurately measured by the City Engineer, who recorded the following dimensions: Height, 72 J feet; girth one foot above the ground, 22J; average diameter of greatest ex tent of branches, 101 feet. It was handsome in form, large in size, and enerable in age. This tree Vas known as the " Liberty Tree" iji 1784. Albany ecently had a famous elm at the cor ner of State and North Pearl streets. Under its branches, it is said, many Indian and Dutch councils in early days were held. The elms of New Haven, Conn., are world-wide in repu tation. An elm at Granby, Mass., is 105 years old. Upon the side of this tree, twelve feet from the ground, is a currant bush rooted in the bark, which has thrived and produced its annual crop of fruit for many years. The oak is one of the loftiest trees in our forests. The famous "Charter Oak," at Hartford, now extinct, was regarded with National pride and ven eration. A white oak in Howard County, Mo., is thirty feet in circum ference at the base. In the Town of Elliot, Me., there is an aged pear tree, from which fruit has been taken since 143 years ago. The largest sassafras tree ever known is in Mississippi Cqittity, Mo.; it meas ures nine feet in circumference, and must be King of the race. The cocoanut tree is a kind of palm, from forty to eighty feet high; the trunk entirely naked,- having immense feathers, each about fifteen feet long, three feet broad and winged. The nuts hang from the summit of the tree in clusters of a dozen or more. The trees have primate leaves and male and fe male flowers on the same tree. The uses made of the tree and its fruit would re quire a long description. It affords food, clothing, shelter and protection in in numerable ways. In the birchwood of Cull^den, Scot land, there is a remarkable tree. About forty years ago a large tree of the for est was blown down"in a storm and fell across a deep gully, which it com pletely spanned, and the top branches took root on the other side. From the parent stem no less than fifteen trees grew up perpendicularly, all in a row, and there they still flourish in all their splendor, while the parent stem evinces no token of decay. Several of the trees are not less than thirty feet high The tree is a fir. In conclusion, we would say that it is difficult to realize how great a part of all that is cheerful ana delightful in the recollections of our own life is associated with trees. They are allied with the songs of morn, with the quiet of noonday, with the social gatherings under the evening sky, and with all the beauties and attractiveness of every season. Their shades, which, in the les of religion Religious. \LABOR UND WAIT.9" < t distilling dews «Jesoe*»' Each leaf and flower beneath a burden bend. Of pictures exquisite, of beauty rare. Under the pail of darkness, painted there. Now rosy morning paints the Orient skies. Greets the dark hemisphere the ylad sunrise. Walk forth o er mil And vale, and breathe its air, And feast thv eyes upon the scene so fair. Of Nature's handiwork. A pearl each flower,\ Eaeh leaf a diamond. That transforming iw>wer Lay in the morning sun--a wondrous change, Unpuessed e'en in imagination's rouge, ; Yet all night unobserved, unknown. No light ; Revealed those pictures painted in the night; Can penetrate that veil no mortal eye, r * ' He only all discovers Who rnles on high. ir Worker, thy pictures painted in TiraeVnight, ' Of the eternal morn await the light, « Be this thy courage, toiler in thy work, '*'-ks We each are painting pictures in the dark. The bread upon the dreary waters east ' * With libera! hand; thonl't smile to see at but. ' ; Should rising vapors drain the ocean dry. if The clouds p jur back their treasures from the sky; . Though rivers to the sea their torrents pour, From hidden springs they draw their plenteous store. s, Though parched fields and thirsty flocks com plain, Faith gtes in cloudless sties abundant, rHn. Give thy heart's treasures, from . fair Nature learn. The bounteous giver finds as great return. Pour forth thy precious'treasures at those feet. Once pierced for thee; true recompense thou'lt meet Within those hands for thee nailed to the cross, Place all thou hast--count all but earthly droM. Though now thou goest forth to sow in tears, • Thou shalt rejoice through the eternal ye&rs. --II. Curtis*, in. Christian Instructor. possessor of the only "true riches/ found in Christ Jesus. Here is sue- .cess, indeed. To all such, failure is a word that never enters into their de sign. Their whole life is one continu ous, wondrous, glorious success, inas much as they become the possessors of every good thing of both worldsL TW, . content and h appy, . " Let the world account me poor. ' *• Having this I want no more: &'••••••'V' Food to which the world's a stronger. Here my hungry soulenjoys; Of excess there is no danger. Though it Slls, it never cloys!" ; --I. N. Kanaga, in Western Advocate. 'w> fife f t ! - The Inner Witness. Forgetting the Things that mrv-i hind." i. ;sa. & JSj. ^ J early ages^ were the temp and philosophy, are still the favorite resort of the studious, the scene of healthful sport for the active and ad venturous, and the very sanctuai'y of peaceful seclusion for the contempla tive and sorrowful. Nature has made use of trees to wed our minds to the love of homely scenes, and to make us satisfied with life. Many old familiar trees that stand in the open field or by the wayside are often in our visions.-- Troy (N. Y.) Times --Why farming does not pay in New Hampshire, aays a Nashuan w ho is fond of wandering about the back districts with his fish-rod, is evident from this specimen conversation with a granger: " I said to him, ' That spotted hog is just like one I saw in the same pen when I was this way seven years ago,' and he answered, ' Of course. It's the same animal.' I asked him why he had not killed and raised other hogs, and he answered, 4 Why, bless ye, man, that hog eats all the swill we make, and consequently there ain't no sense in killin' him an' buyin' another.' " --The French now make good chim neys out of paper and cement. By antt by a stove painted red will give out i heat.--Detroit Free Press. WHEN we hear a beautiful song, we are moved by it. We may know very little about music. We may not be able to tell wherein the beauty of that song consists, or why it moves us. A musi cian might tell us that it was full of defects, aud possessed no artistic excel lence. We might not be able to an swer him a word; and yet we would know it was a beautiful song, because, it touched a chord in our own souls which responded to the touch. It is not a thing to be proved or disproved; we have felt it, and we " testify that we do know." We do not need to understand the rules of music, before we can appre ciate a song; nor need we be able to discuss the principles of art before we can enjoy a painting. We feel the har mony of the one and the beauty of the other, because our souls were made to respond to them. ^ So our hearts always respond to the truth, when it touches them. We know the salvation of Christ, because we have felt it. All the saints have known it, because they have experienced it in their lives. Under different names, they have Jcnown the same thing. When they " confessed their faith, ' they may have erred in some of the forms; but when they told what God had done for them, they all told the same story. Whenever a real Christian tells what he has felt in his own inner life, he " speaks that he does know, and testifies that he has seen," When the gospel has thus taken hold of a man's profoundest convictions, it cannot be dislodged by any mere logic. It fits so perfectly into its place, that the spirit will not let it go. A hungry- man will not readily renounce what he knows has satisfied him, though he can not analyze it, nor tell how it nourishes him. The man who has felt that "'Aching void the world can never fill," will not readily part with what has so completely filled that void, and satisfied his soul. He may not be able to answer the objections proposed; but he knows what he has felt. The blind man could not answer the Pharisees as to who or what Jesus was; but he knew one thing, "Whereas I was blind, I now see. So every Christian feels that there is a profounder basis to his faith than the arguments by which it is defended. There is a sort of inward recognition of it, as though'one saw the features of an old friend. As we know that heat warms us, and air re freshes us, we know the Gospel saves us. We ma}r warm ourselves by the fire, without knowing anything about the la\v of heat. A man might try to prove to us that fire was needless and worthless, but he could not drive us away from it. to spend the night in the cold air. A man may puzzle us with objections to the Gospel, but if our souls have ever felt its power, they will nev er allow argument or objection to dis lodge their faith. There is in every true Christian heart this *4 witness of the Spirit:" the witness of his owm spirit to the truth he has felt; the witness of the Divine Spirit to his own. The requirement is not that we must weigh the arguments on either side, and . balance them, before we can receive the truth; but it is simply, 4! Taste and see that the Lord is good." It becomes the assurance of a tried reality. A man ceases to weigh objections, and rests in the security of what he has felt. He may know little about logic and the rules of evidence; but he knows what has taken place in his own soul; he knows what has satis fied his own wants; he knows what has met the demands of his own nature. --Richard Cordley, D. Z>., in Am. Mes senger. Failure and Success. MEN are commonly said to be suc cessful when they obtain much of this world's riches. When they heap to gether immense quantities of the per ishing stuff of time they are lauded as the truly successful. When they amass much gold and silver and hoard it up till they become millionaires, the world will then clap their hands, and with loud huzzas proclaim such ones suc cessful! But is the life of such a one a true success.? A man may possess really the wealth of Croesus, and yet be a sad failure. He may acquire the wealth of " Ormus, or of Ind," and yet remain miserably poor. Though such a one were to have all the treasure that lies in the bosom of the Rocky Mount ain range, and the Sierra Nevada added, yet he is ever nothing but a piti able beggar. " For what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" * On the other hand, a man may fail acquiring the riches of this world* and vet be accounted a wonderful success. He may live in an obscure spot and be unknown to fame in the world at large, yet nothing in his passage through fife can really oe said to be a failure. Hav ing become a child of God and an heir to an incorruptible inheritance, he is richer, by far, than the poor million aire. For he has, by grace, become PAUL meant, I suppose, orilyn " I I", don't count that these past efforts asfe Ss complete. I don't build anything upon what I have done already. I recog nize the mark of imperfection over it all. I fling it behind me and press on ward." But I think we may widen the application a little further than that, and include all sorts of backward look ing, as being (except under very spe- i cial conditions and in a very limited ' * *: ^ decree) a positive weakness and im pediment to a man in running the race - that lies before him. Why? Well, for ; one thing, plainly and simply enough, ^ time giveri to such an occupation is1* lime withdrawn from the actual work ~ Of life A man cannot run with his feyes looking over his shoulder; he is sure to knock against somebody, and so be delayed and hindered. There * • may have been floating in the apostle's \ " mind combind with the image of the racer some remembrance of the old story in the book of Genesis about Lot's wife. She looked back, and as she stood there gazing behind her, precious time was irrevocably lost, the fugitives swept on in front, and the swift-flying : death, that struck her with terror, as she saw it pressing close behind, caught her up. She was whelmed in the fiery, ) destruction that filled the air; and as the shower of ashes at Pompeii molded themselves over the forms of the poor wretches that were smothered b}- them and preserved till to-day, the print of the very waves of their hair and the texture of their dress, "salt," was crusted round that living core,,and she perished because' she wasted in trem bling retrospect the flying moments which, rightly used, would have set her in safety. And if you stand there, looking backward instead of making the best of your way out of evil, the evil wil catch you up, oi, at least, will be so much the nearer you bv all the time wasted.--Alexander MacLwen. 3 . * The Latest Enoch Arden. NODAWAY STATION, a point on the Bluffs Road, about fourteen miles from St. Joseph, has a real sensation and no mistake. Living about a mile and .a half north of that place is a family, the subject of the sad story about to be re lated. For many years James Tracy, with his wife ana two children, there resided. Peace and quiet reigned in that household, and the married life of Mr. and Mrs. Tracy was all that could have been asked for That accursed thing, drink, which has lowered many a family to the brink of shame and degradation, and too often broken up happy households, was James Tracy's ruling passion. When sober and at himself, all was well, but the moment he became overpowered by the exces sive use of strong drink, he was a per fect demon, as it were, and would com mit crimes of which he would repent when over his spree, but, alas! too late. About eight years ago, while on one of his tantrums, he committed a rob- ; bery at Amfozonia, for which offense he was sent to the Penitentiary for two years. Regaining his liberty at the ex piration of his imprisonment, he re solved to drink no more. He only too well knew his failing and was cogni- : zant of what it was bringing him to. The habit had become so strong with him that he could not resist the temp tation, and it was not long before he was sent back to his old quarters for two years more, for committing a rob bery at El wood. Shortly after being • placed in the Penitentiary he killed a fellow convict, andwas given two years and a half more. Tracy is a marble cutter oy trade, and his skill in that line is recognised' by all who know him. When in the Penitentiary he got up a model piece of workmanship, which was forwarded to Philadelphia, and took the premium at the Centennial. For this he had six months of his time commuted. Let us now, for a while, turn back to that quiet little household in Andrew Countv. What was Mrs. Tracy doing these long, weary vears? Grieved as she was, and justly incensed, as she might have been, she remained con stant and true, and was awaiting tt e time when her husband might return to her, and reform and spend the re mainder of his days in sobriety and happiness. Thus she continued to be until hearing of his last crime. Under the mistaken apprehension that he was to be imprisoned for life, she married again. . Last week James Trflcy, for the first tame in four years, placed his feet upon the threshold of his old home. Imag ine, if you can, the meeting of the husband and wife under the circum stances; she still ignorant, up to that time, of the length of his sentence, and he oi her second marriage. Sad and tearful was the scene. They both took a sober, thoughtful view of the situa tion, and recognizing the fact that 44 what had been done could not be undone," he told her to live as she had been and try to forget that he had ever returned. He made his children sev eral presents, gave his wife some mon«» ey. and took his departure for St. Jo seph, telling his wife to give the chil dren a good education, and if they wanted anything to write to him. James Tracy is engaged at work in St. Joseph, and it is to be hoped, late as it is, that he has come to his right senses, and will hereafter lead a sober and industrious life.--St. Joseph (Mo.) Herald. --Ex-United States Senator Lyman Trumbull, who has been a widower for some years, surprised the country by a coup d'etat, the other day. He went down to Connecticut and was quietly married there.