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. * i r * - ' , . . > v . v v - , - - . ? - • * > « • * v. • i"1 . » tr 4 ̂*•* i-,* ," -t® -\V /i - 3 * r .,/ ' f < U ' • »' < . J , 1 ,. _ x" - • *- A.. " r' > - ••. • . " ' s ! % .• r. ** * ' '•H i 4 * «v » * <?\ » * ^ ^ v s i, , * ^ *jp n* l v !*» * * *'<U >. * v*» f ^ -ct , ; ft "4 --""irk*®*15 < ' r irjj gflaintlcaUr . VAN SWKE. Editor mi PuNfehet. JRY, ILLINOIS JCH T1MB AND KTEHKITT. »«*W wiiu VliO i»iHe-- ^ **"Wl ao many yoam. 4$$P? [ that I could not die. jifF.' [aftaoul. What! tears!-- «fte „., , _JMH on lip and brow! ' MpgfK liMMIMra and kisses now? %>*'$ »hard. Just a kerchief wot "•'~"'~J I'MMlu that qnlet* pain, ( '; _ _ id the tine of suffering sot; a rf:1® f >aWt*OV<ff the blood and hrain-- >- < tJttSrpMCc to the finger-tips; . inlntw these kirees on lids and Hpel j1 a-ffl A BSC* for lips all cold, A, v [lament* f'V porfnhC'1 breitn, (faded check, and tbc hair's dim 11 tear for the sadder death i i jHwrt day. Hew strange the fate IM brtnfrs yonr sorrow all too late! All tttw year*, with my dead, dead hearit rn met the Vrorld with smiling eyes; I Mfaetinswee.t life with perfect art, And the world has rwpect'for well-told And I fooled tin: world--for no one said, "Behold this woman--she Is dead." And ao one said, as yon passed alonir, "Behold a murderer!" No one knew; Yoncarefoilv covered the cruel wrong; That the world saw not, was enough far fen; Ton'had wisdom and worldly pride; And I had silence--for I had died. The world says now I am dead; but O -- . Lmb down and IN ten--'tis all in vain! « : Again la mv hervrt bleeds the cruel blow;' Agkin I am mad with the old-time pain; AaUn the waves of angni&h roll-- For I have met with my murdered aoaL : Om^ver to find the peaoel crave-- Twere better to be as I have been:" ' In theplac? of the fleeting years, I have Eternity »ow to love yon in-- Eternity now to feel the blow ^ Yonr deiur hoods save so Ions asro. Perry, in Lippincott's liagaalm*. CUQUE VS. CABAL A QbIqm Encounter In th« Theater Vran- _ «al»«--How • Play Wan Killed. Deaplte iMBeial' Protection--An Aetreas' Bevenge. Those who are conversant with the 'lighter French literature of the last O^ntnry have doubtless read, or tried to read, Angola," a strange production published anonymously, with the usual accompaniments of frontispiece and Vignettes, and purporting to be an ex­ act description of the society and man­ ners of the time. It is neither better dor 'worse than the generality of novels tit the period; inferior to those of Cre- bttlon the younger in style and felicity Oi expression, but not without a certain ffliyety and animation, the effect of which is too frequently marred by an " iition of language apparently cop- from the "Dictionnaire des Precieu- It is, however, a curious book, 1, although now most forgotten, ob- ' at the time of its appearance a share of popularity, less perhaps on rant of its intrinsic merits than be- notwithstanding the absence of •n i^athor's name on the title-page, it known to kaye l>een written by the Ohevmlier de la Morliere, an episode in trihoM life we are about to narrate. This singular personage, born at the commencement of the eighteenth oentnry and dying within a few years of its close, was a native of Grenoble, and began his career as a "mousquetaire," during the regeacy of the Duke qf Or- tripais. Shortly after receiving his ap­ pointment he came to Paris, where, as fcr as his slender finances permitted, he frequented the society of young men of nis. own age, and speedily became no­ torious both from hw ovpxweening arro- ^jgance and from his skill as a s words- oaan. He lorded it at the cafes and other places of public resort, where his Special friends and admirers were wont ko assemble; and by the hardihood of his opinions and his readiness to main­ tain them, acquired a sort of influence m» a literary and dramatic censor which wen the actors of the Corned ie Fran- 'Caise--in those days by no means the most submissive of mortals--were com­ piled to recognize. With the excep- •|jpn of "Angola," his attempts at muthorship had been signal failures; half a dozen other novels of a very in- fqrior stamp and a host of pamphlets •ton every conceivable subject had fallen ittUJborn from the press, while of his wO comedies, "Le Creole" and Hie Gouverneur," produced re­ spectively at the Theater Francaise and the Comedie Italienne, neither had survived the first night's ordeal. These mortifying results, though he fcflfected to treat them philosophically, were scarcely calculated to render him Indulgent to his more fortunate col- Seagues; and he had little difficulty in trganmng a regular cabal of which he 4rAs the head, the subordinate members being any chance recruits, such as dis­ appointed playwrights or literary hacks, #ho passed most of their time at the Gafe Procope, and who eagerly seized the opportunity offered tbem of venting their spite against a successful dramat- Ut, or a comedian by whom their own pieces had been refused. Pouting them­ selves in different parts of the theater, put always under the eye of theii chief, . . they awaited his signal to commence the attack, and conducted their opera­ tions so skillfully that many of the un­ initiated spectators, far from imagining that they were acting in concert, con­ cluded that the play or the pet former, whichever might be the object of that flight's disapprobation, deserved to be pissed, and not infrequently added their own sibilations to those of the conspirators. This state of things had Continued for some months, and at least half a dozen pieces had been brought to an untimely end by their combined ef­ forts, when, as ill luck would have it, the victim next selected proved more ^ than a match for the cabal, and--but | we let the chevalier tell his own story lii'. "Mile. Clairon was then at the height • 0f her reputation, and reigned despot iea'ly over the Theater Francaise. | - never admired her acting, but preferred j a thousand times the energy and pas- ' aion of Mile. Dumesnil to the so-called * classic'frigidity of her rival. I was Sr Hot the only one who disputed the sov creign merit of the latter, although no one else dared to say so; I was aware of f tier vanity, and took delight in mortifv- p ing it. She perceived my intention, and openly declared that I should soon )iave good reason to regret having of­ fended her; but I despised her threats, jrnd, as the sequel will show, I was wrong. I ought to have remembered jthat tiie personal intercession of Queen Katie Leczinska had alone prevented Freron from being imprisoned at her instigation. Not that she contemplated doing me the honor of sending me to <the Fort l'Eveque; she had another iplan in view, as you will see. '£[t was, I think, in 1761, that M. de Voltaire's tragedy of ' Tancrede' first made its appearance on the stage of the Cfomedie Francaise. A few minutes tjlefore the commencement of the per- Wmuuu'e I entered the theater, and ^ook mv usual seat in the pit. I had left tlie Cafe Procope, where I had expressed my opinion pretty freely re- r apecting the forthcoming novelty, twawing my hostility both to the Au­ thor and to Mile Clairon, and propheay- ing that the piece would never reaoh the fourth act. Each of my friends was at his post, ready to second me in my crusade against the bad taste of the pub • lie: so I sat quite at my ease and oalmly awaited the rising of the curtain. My two neighbors on either side were s rangers to me, and I took no particu­ lar notice of th«m beyond remarking that both more resembled 4 forts de la Halle' than habitual frequenters of the theater, my attention being drawn to ' Tancrede,' which had just begun. ] allowed the earlier scenes to pass with out interruption, but toward the end of the first act prepared myself for a vig­ orous manifestation of discontent, had, however, hardly uttered a prefa­ tory murmur, when the two individuals on my right and left simultaneously pressed so closely on me that I was nearly stifled. A cry of pain escaped me, upon which they drew back a little, but as soon as I had recovered my breath and opened my lips to protest against a passage in the play which struck me as commonplace, thev closed in upon me a second time, ancf with such force that I was literally jammed in between them. Without once turning their eyes in my direction, and to all appearance deeply interested in what was going on, they held me so tightly that it was im­ possible for me to move; until, seeing that I remained perfectly quiet,' they again retreated, paying no attention to my indignant remonstrances, which were lost amid the shouts of the au- Ithor'n partisans at the close of the act. ^ When the next began I was more de- * termined than ever tq express my opinion in regard to Mile. Clairon, and was in the act of taking from my pocket the whistle I always carried with me on these occasions, when my right-hand neighbor, grasping my arm so violently that the whistle fell on the ground, muttered in my ear, ' Silence!' This was too much, and I struggled to release myself, wlfen my other arm was suddenly seized by the individual on my left, who, in a very significant tone, bade me be still. I tried to rise from my seat, but, pinned as I was, I could not. « " If you say a word or make the slightest movement,' whispered my persecutor, 'we have strict orders to turn you oiit of the theater.' "Perceiving that I was in the hands of two police agents in disguise, and that any attempt at resistance would be both physically impracticable and de­ rogatory to my dignity, I merely in­ quired if they knew me. "'Certainly, monsieur,' replied the same individual. 'You are the Chev­ alier de la Morliere, and my comrade and I are here to watch you.' " 'To-day only ?' " 'To-day and to-morrow, and ©very day until further orders.' " 'By what right ?' I asked. " 'Hush! Don't you hear Mile. Clairon speaking. What an actress, what a glorious creature she is!' he cried, ap­ plauding with all his might. "I felt myself growing purple with rage, and, turning to my neighbor on the left, wh£ appeared less enthusiasti­ cally disposed, 'It seems, then,' I said, 'that in future, whenever I come to the theater, I am condemned to sit between you and your comrade V " 'Exactly, M. le Chevalier, and for my part I am delighted, for no one is a greater admirer of M. de Voltaire's tragedies.' " 1 ctightwO be remarked with affected calmness, 'that my com­ pany gives you such pleasure.' " 'Ours need not be disagreeable to M. le Chevalier, if he chose,' h$ replied in a significant tone. 'How do you mean?* 'Monsieur has only to abstain from expressing any disapprobation; no very difficult matter when the piece is like the one they are playing now. Listen, monsieur, is it possible to imagine any­ thing finer? Bravo, Voltaire!' ' 'Bravo, Clairon!' shouted the other. My position was no longer endur­ able, and at the close of the third act I rose from my seat and abruptly quit­ ted the theater, boiling with suppreased fury, and invoking maledictions on the actress who had played me this scurvy trick. For the next two days I care­ fully kept aloof from the scene of my disaster, but toward the end of the week, from sheer force of habit, re­ turned thither, and found my two agents, as I expected, awaiting my ar­ rival. Ushering me to my seat with a profusion of bows, they placed them­ selves as before on either side of me, but this time I had determined to go upon a different tack, and give them no opportunity of molesting me. To their great astonishment I remained perfectly still, although I confess that the martyr­ dom I underwent in listening with an indifferent air to M. de Voltaire's rhapsodies was almost beyond my powers of endurance, and stoically re­ frained from the slightest mark of im­ patience or dissatisfaction until the curtain finally dropped, and my Buffer­ ings were at an end. I felt sure that the day would come when I should have the laugh on my side, and I had not long to wait. "The next novelty produced at the Theater Francaise was not, I rejoice to say, by Voltaire; but an adaptation by Saurin of a lugubrious English drama entitled 'Blanche et Guiscard,' the sub­ ject of which was taken from 'Gil Bias.' In it Clairon had a principal part, of which report spoke highlv, and had re­ ceived instructions from (jarrick how to play it. I was the more disposed to be critical on this occasion, having myself previously treated a similar subject, and offered my piece to the managing committee, wfeo had unanimously re­ fused it. Under these circumstances, it Was impossible to avoid being present at the first performance of 'Blanche et Guiscard.' "I found my two agents at the door of the theater, evidently expecting me. When we were seated,the one my right, addressing me with obsequious civiSty, deigned to express his regret at my ab­ sence during the last week, assuring me that I had missed some delightful pieces. 'However,' he added, 'we felt that M. le Chevalier would be here to­ night, as all Paris is anxious to see the novelty.' ' Who are the principal actors in the new piece?' I inquired, in an indifferent tone. ' Bellecour, Mile .Dubois and Clair' "' That prom nothing,' I remarked. • It prove* anUe mumgli lor us,' he replied, sullenly, and the conversation dropped. The llrat act of 'Blanche et Guiscard,' notwithstanding some pictur­ esque scenery and costumes, struck me as insufferably tedious; and, careful as I was to avoid any open display of hos­ tility, I could not resist the temptation of indulging in a hearty yawn, which proved so contagious "that both my neighbors unsuspiciously followed my example. A repetition of the same maneuver gradually infected those around me, and by the middle of the third act the entire pit, boxes and gal­ lery were yawning as if for a wager. I watched these symptoms of weariness, which boded no good to M. Saurin's drama, with intense delight, and every now and then fanned the flame by a fresh demonstration. In vain the actors exerted themselves to the utmost, the insidious enemy was too much for them, and little by little they, in their turn, yielded to its influence. From that moment the fate of the piece was de­ cided, and I was on the point of risking a fracture of my jaw by way of giving a final quietus, when my neighbor on the right, perceiving at length how matters stood, suddenly checked me. M 'M. le Chevalier,' he whispered, 'allow me to remind you that you are going too far.' " 'In what way ?' I asked. " 'Every one can understand that you are yawning on purpose.' " 'How can I help yawning If the piece bores meV " ( v . " The agents looked at each other, visibly embarrassed. " 'True,' murmitred the one on my left " If it does bore you,' growled the one on my right, 'you need not let other people see it.' " 'Tell me frankly,' I said* looking the speaker full in the face, 'does it amuse you ?' " I can't say that it does,' was his candid reply. " This settled the question, and they allowed me, without further hindrance, to contribute my share of yawns to the general fund; and I felt, as I remarked the listless indifference of the public to the woes of the unfortunate 'Blanche et Guiscard,' that I had gained my point, and emerged victorious from a struggle in which the odds were certainly not in my favor. "But I had yet to learn with what an1 implacable adversary I had to deal, and I soon discovered to my cost that the annoyances to which I had hitherto been subjected were trifles compared with what was about to follow. Finding that her efforts to stifle my opposition had signally failed, Mile. Clairon determined to crush me altogether, and rid herself of my unwelcome presence in a way that, I confess, I little expected. Prof­ iting by the exceptional position enjoyed by her, aha solicited and obtained from M. de Sartine, the Lieutenant of police, an order pro­ hibiting me in future from altering the Comedie Francaise; and this iniqui­ tous infraction of the law was duly no­ tified to me. Justly indignant of sych unheard-of exercise of arbitrary power, I applied to the magistrate in question for redress; and, after several vain at­ tempts, succeeded in obtaining an inter­ view with him, but to no purpose, for he very curtly informed me that he could do nothing for me. The fact is,' he said, 'Mile. Clairon has great influence- and yen bars none; beside, your reputation is, to say the least, very much against you, and you have brought this upon yourself. If you have not chosen to attend to the warnings already given you, it is your own fault.' " 'But,' I objected,- 'there is no law that iustifies such a prohibition. " 'True,'he replied, 'but Mile. Clairon has enlisted on her side all the "gentle­ men of the Chamber;" she has told them that it is quite impossible for her to act in the presence--I use her own words--of a monster like you, and that, unless her demand be complied with, she will retire from the stage.' " "Very likely,'I remarked, 'consider­ ing that hardly a week passes without her threatening the same thing.' 'That may be,' coldly answered M. de Sartine, 'but it is no affair of mine-- I merely obey orders;' and, turning his back on me as a signal that the inter­ view was at an end, he left me to my own reflections. "What was I to do? Submit patient­ ly to the insult, and tacitly own myself in the wrong, or boldly continue the struggle, and prove that the Chevalier de la Morliere was not to be humiliated by the caprice of a vindictive and am­ bitious woman? I chose the latter alternative, and commenced operations by laying before the authorities a de­ tailed statement of my case, which no one took the trouble of reading. I en­ deavored to interest in my favor several influential personages of the court, but vain; the few who listened to me shrugged their shoulders with evident indifference, and declined to interfere. As a last resource I resolved to appeal to the sympathy of my fellow-citizens, and circulated a memoir in which I demanded by what right I alone was debarred from frequenting a place of public entertainment, a privilege open to all who had the money to pay for it. This had the desired effect; for, in order to avoid a popular scandal, the Lieutenant of police, turning a deaf ear to the entreaties and menaces of Mile. Clairon, decided on withdrawing the veto, and I was once more at liberty to pass rfty evenings unmolested at the Comedie Francaise. Had this occurred in Venice, it is probable thai my perti­ nacity would have entailed on me the unpleasant consequences of an inch or tw6 of cold steel; whereas in Paris, fortunately for me, a ' brwvo' is not yet national institution, or I should hardly have lived to tell my story."-- Charles Hervey, in Longman'g Mag­ azine. MOW IR " ' Ah! Mile. Dubois is a pretty girl " 'Charming, monsieur.' "'And what do people say of the piece?' I continued. u'Mafoi, monsieur, what can they say of it. until they have seen it acted? interposed my left-hand neighbor, with a self-satisfied grin. " ' I mean, is it likely to be a success or a failure ?' "' Oh, monsieur, a success, of course.' " ' Why of course ?' " ' Because the author, M. Saurin, a member of the Academy/ Consolation. Smith Washington, an aged colored African, whitewashed the fence of an Austin banker for $1.25, which the banker paid him in Mexican quarters at par. Several days rolled away into eternity before Smith Washington had any occasion to put one of these Mexi­ can quarters into circulation, but when he attempted to do so, he was shocked by the 20 per cent, discount. His feelings were hurt, too. He lifted up his voice and said: "Jess ter think ob a banker, in whom I had ebery confidence in de world, beating me out of a quarter ob a dollar. I 'lowed he was an honest man. I hadn't orter tuck de job in de fust place," and then he added, more cheer­ fully : "But ef I hadn't tuck de job to whitewash de fence, I nebber would hab found out whar de chickens roosted, and as I sold $4 wuff ob chickens next morning, de bank hain't cotohed up wid me yet. Somehow, de Lord allers 1' tempers de wind to do shorn lamb."-- Texan Sifting8. A«*1m, to What iMgWI* to Vw tmA imm to Avoid. ' ;•> urmm 9#ifcttoaaut.] J& Amerioaa wfeft wishes to pais for an Englishman, b4|«re other people than his own countrymen, must care­ fully observe the following rules: He must call his father the "guv-nor;" he aliuulu uoi uw sick, but "ill ;** he should oall coal "ooals;" a pitcher a "jug;" a sack-coat a "jacket;"pantaloons, "trous­ ers" (never pants); a vest a "waist­ coat" (pronounced wescut); an under­ shirt a "jersey;" suspenders, "braces;" and all shoes "botts." He must speak of an expert driver as a good "whip," and a good rider as a good "seat." He must never fail to mark the distinction between riding and driving, and remember that no one in England ever rides, except on horseback. To, therefore, speak of riding is quite sufficient; to add "on horseback" is superfluous to an Englishman. He must never, .by any possible chance, forget to call the Thames "Terns," Derby "Darby," Berkely "Barkley," Bettie "Bartie," waltz "valse," Holburn "Hoburn," Mary-le-bone "Marrabun," Pall Mall "Pell Mell," Hertford "Har­ ford," St. Leger "Sallinger," St. John (when used as a person's name "Sinjen," and Woolwich "Woolich." When he takes a bath he must "have a tub," he must keep to the left when he drives, even though he infringes the law of the road in his own country, and must rise in his stirrups when, in riding, he trots. He must bo familiar with all the technicalities and proficient in the lingo of hunting, shooting, rowing, cricket, and lawn tennis, as it is done in England. If a thing is amusing or provocative of mirth, he must say it is "rather funy," and if he finds a man agreeable his limit of praise must never exoeed "a decent sort of chap," or "not a half bad fellow." He must call a pound a "quid," and a shilling a "bob." But he cannot be too cautious as to slang, and should be sure it is not "cad­ dish" before he uses it. The sayings of all of Gilbert & Sullivan's operas are [safe enough, but there are many which come out in questionable comic songs at the second-rate theaters and music halls that no gentleman is ever heard to mako ,U8e of. • "Fetching" is a word that should never be given utterance to in the pres­ ence of ladies. A railroad should al­ ways be a "railway" in England, and the Auglomaniac must not omit to call it so. He must also speak of the cars as the "train," a baggage car as a "lug­ gage van," a freight train as a "goods train," and must never allude to a sta­ tion as a depot. He must call the track the "line," and the rails the "metals," and speak of switching as "shunting," of a switch-tender as a "pointsman," the conductor as the "guard," the tick­ et office as the "booking" office, and of a horse car as a "tram." He must never get mad, but always "angry," nor should he forget that the name of the poet Cowper is pronounced "Cooper," that Magdalene College, Oxford, is called "Mawdlin," Cuius College, Cambridge, "Keys," and that the proper pronunci­ ation of Glamis is "Glaymes." When he goes to the opera or theater the orchestra seats must be designated as "stalls," the dress circle as the "boxes," and the parquet as the "pit." For "guess" he must use "fancy" and "imagine," and studiously shrink from such expressions as "quite a while," "real nice," "Bide wl^bkers," "is that so?" ana "why certainly.'" He must be sure to leave out "wine when he speaks of port or sherry, and ahould he wish for ice-cream, he must aak for "an ice." If he is in good health, he must be "fit if ill, "seedy;" if over-tired, "knocked up." If a person has good taste, and is well bred, or a thing ii done in accord­ ance with the rules of good breeding or good taste, both are "good form;" if the reverse, "bad form." Should he find himself in difficulty, he must be "up a tree," and everything troublesome and disagreeable is "hard lines." He must call lunch "luncheon," and the parlor the "drawing room," and must drop no h except when it comes after w, in such words as "which," "when," "where," "what," "whether," "white" and "whis­ ky?" He should also carefully avoid sounding his final r's. How One Should nasi a Lawn. He should first employ a competent surveyor to make him a topographic map, locating upon it all buildings and all trees desirable to be retained. Ex­ cept to make room for a house or to obtain a smooth surface, there should be no removal of soil. Earthwork is very expensive and rarely justifiable. A varied and undulating surface is al­ ways preferable to a dead-level; rocks removable can be piled upon rocks per­ manent, and spaces between or above planted with small ahrubs flanked by trees. The map being secured, he should manure the whole ground very thor­ oughly. If he has courage enough, he can use $100 worth of stable manure to the acre with great advantage, as my own experience teaches me. The ground should then be planted with potatoes, beets, or some other root crop, to deepen or pulverize the soil. While these are growing let him seek a landscape artist; and here will lie his difficulty. He can find men who will draw him a beautiful map, and whose correct eyes and taste may enable them to locate for present effect any material which is given them. He will find, however, very few who have the knowl­ edge of trees and plants which will en­ able them to select that material. A landscape artist who is master of his profession must be familiar with all hardy trees and shrubs which are at­ tainable, in order that he may select those which, by their harmonious or by their strongly contrasting forms and colors, maybe suitable for a picturesque lawn. He must know not only the size of the tree when planted, but what will be its height or breadth fifty vears aft­ erward. Without this knowledge he would place a Norway spruce where a yew should be, and Ins finest trees will be planted so closely that some of them will require to be cut away at the end of twenty years, or the whole plantation be ruined. Want of tree knowledge has spoiled many costly places, and a true landscape art­ ist should be so saturated with this knowledge that he can alwavs speak ex cathedra, and thus give his employer that confidence in him which is essen­ tial to success. A lover of trees must be at heart an artist, because he is famil­ iar with the best forms; but an artist may have no knowledge of trees, and may therefore fail, because he strives for ultimate> effects which he cannot possibly foresee. The true landscape artist having been found, let the owner of the grounds give their whole arrangement into his hands, holding him responsible for the result. He may limit the expenses by requiring the selection of the more common trees and shrubs, in many of which there n giMtwi%fii it M mwwm w XufMt exprasaio* of beauty hamustbe pre­ pared to pay lor it. Tiffiuiy's diamonds are better than his gadmets, and many who buy of him willingly pay for the best.--6'. B. Parsons,' in Hater's Mageuine. Capt. John Smith* John Smith was the last of the romantic school of explorers. It is im­ possible to tell who wrote all his nu­ merous books, or where to draw the line in regard to his innumerable ad­ ventures. We shall never know the whole truth about Pocahontas or Pow­ hatan. No matter; he was the ideal sailor, absolutely accurate in all that relates to coasts and soundings, abso­ lutely credulous as to all the wilder as­ pects of enterprise in a new world. He maintained the traditions of wonder; he would not have been surprised at Job Hartop's merman, or Ponce de Leon's old men made young, or Raleigh's headless Indians, or Champlain's Gou- gou. The flavor of all his narratives is that of insatiable and joyous adventure, not yet shadowed by that romance of supernatural terror which came in with the Puritans. Yet his first service was in his ac­ curacy of description. It is a singular fact, pointed out by Kohl, that while the sixteenth century placed upon our maps with much truth the coasts of Newfoundland, Labrador and Canada, the coasts of New England aud New York were unknown till the beginning of the seventeenth. When Hudson sailed south of Cap Cod and entered the harbor of New York, he was justi­ fied in saying that he entered "an un­ known sea." If the shore north of Cape Cod was not an unknown region, it was due largely to Smith. While his companions were plundering or kid­ napping negroes, at the time he first visited those shores in 1614, he was drawing "a map from point to point, isle to isle, and harbor to harbor, with the soundings, sands, rocks and landmarks." He first called the region New England, and first gave the names of Charles river, Plymouth, Cape Ann; while other names which he bestowed --as Boston, Cambridge, Hull--have not disappeared, but only shifted their places. He caused thousands of his maps to be printed, and yet complained he might as well have tried "to cut rocks with oyster shells" as to spread among others his interest in this matter. Fif­ teen years after, he could only report the same discouragement. "The coast is yet still but as a coast unknown and undiscovered. I have had six or seven plots of thpse northern parts, so unlike each to other for resemblance of the country as they did me no more good than so much waste paper." This illustrates Smith's methods. But it was in his first expedition to Virginia that he placed himself on record as the first successful colonizer of America.--T. W. Higginson, in Harper's Magazine. At the Wrong House* Alex. H. Stephens had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and used to relate anecdotes from his own experience to amuse his friends. One which hp was very fond of telling occurred during his service in Congress before the war, when Senator Edward Everett and M. de Sartiges, the French Minister, re­ sided in adjacent houses on G street. One evening, as the guests invited by M. de Sartiges to a dinner party arrived, Mr. Stephens came mih iiiem in even-, ing dress. The polite Frenchman, not having invited the well-known Repre­ sentative from Georgia, asked him if he desired to converse with him on any subject. "No, thank you," replied Mr. Stephens, who went on chatting with the other guests. M. de Sartiges went to his dining- room, told his butler not to announce dinner until that little gentl^pan in the parlor had gone, and returned there. After waiting a quarter of an hour, with the full knowledge that his good cheer was being spoiled, he again ap­ proached Mr. Stephens, saying: "Meestear Steven, would you like to see me about something ?" "No, sir! No,, sir!" was the prompt reply, and, as the disconsolate host walked away with a gesture of despair, Mr. Stephens said to a gentleman with whom he was conversing: "What does that impertinent little Frenchman mean by thinking that I want to talk with him?" "That," was the reply, "is oqr host, you know, and perhaps he invited you to have a little chat before dinner." "Our host!" exclaimed Mr. Stephens; "why I eame here to dine with Senator Everett, of Massachusetts!" *• j The joke was too good to be kept quiet, and after Mr. Stephens had left, the guests at the French Legation joined in a roar; he created another hearty laugh in Mr. Everett's drawing- room next door, where the guests for another dinner had been waiting his arrival. He had gotten into the wrong *<**• : ^ . k ' Physical Exercise. Walking of itself is of no value as an exercise, but a spirited walk is one of the finest of all physical exercises. If a man enters heartily into this exercise he will be benefited by it. Horseback riding is an excellent exercise for cir­ culation, as very little of the nervous energy is expended. For a person who uses the mind excessively, however, this form of exercise is not good, as it produces nervousness. Swimming is, without exception, one of the finest of all physical exercises. It develops es­ pecially the lower portion of the chest, the legs and arms. Running at a regu­ lar and fixed pace; boxing, to teach one to keep the temper under adverse cir­ cumstances; rowing and canoeing, to strengthen the upper part of the thorax and chest, are useful. The benefit to be derived from regular practice in a gymnasium, by which the mind and nerve centers are so trained that they have a certain amount of control over the body, so that, while the muscles may give out, this mental power, when once obtained by physical training, will never be lost, is or the greatest ac­ count.--Dr. Sargent, of Harvard Col lege. Whatkveb the internal application of hot water may effeet, girls desirous of having a good complexion would do well to apply it to their faces. They should either dip their faces into a basin of very hot water or apply the water with a sppnge. At first they are like lobsters, but in a few moments this is replaced by the tints of peaches and lilies.--London Truth. Thb Boston Advertiser thinks that "of all the professions, the clerical furnishes the poorest specimens of the statesman." Yrs. man is a creature of habit. Once let him contract the habit of begging his tobacco and he'll nevor buy another ounce. tUnnoviaff WMrt> Barber Who Vms • Thread Imtw« of » Xtaaor. The New York Morning Journal says that a novel phase of social life came to the notice of one of its report­ ers, the details of which will afford con­ siderable interest and possibly some Eroiii tu inuieH who aid troubled with irsute appendages. Through the cour­ tesy of an acquaintance an introduction was given the reporter to Signora Helen Georgeides, a female barber, who shaves without a razor. She has two hand­ some-looking boys, one of whom acted as interpreter. "My mother is a native of Smyrna, Asia Minor," one of these said, in very good English. "Can you describe the process?" "Certainly; but my mother does not use any razors, and she confines her at­ tention exclusively to ladies. She uses a thread instead of a razor, and the pro­ cess is not only more speedy, but more satisfactory." "Does the lady object to giving me an illustration of her skill ?" After some coaxing the feminine pro­ fessor consented. Taking the reporter into another room, he was requested to bare his arm. Taking a strong linen thread she placed one end between her teeth, and with a peculiar see saw mo­ tion with both hands she applied the thread quickly up and down the arm, the hair being caught up by what ap­ pealed to be a small slip-knot in the oen- ter of the thread. This motion was continued for several seconds with re­ markable results, the hafts being quickly removed by the process. "Of course you will understand," con­ tinued her interpreter, "that my mother does not pretend to shave gentlemen; their beards would be too hard and rough; but she has been very successful with the ladies, and has quite a large number of customers who visit her reg­ ularly." How long does it take to effectuaUy remove a lady's mustache?" "Well, a brunette will get shaved by her process once a month, blondes once in three weeks. Very much depends upon the nature and growth of the beard or mustache, as the case may be. The first stage is to anoint the skin well with an ointment, the preparation of which is a secret.- The idea is to soften the skin thoroughly, so that the hairs may be removed without causing discomfort to the patient. "After the skin has been well sat­ urated with the, ointment the hairs come out very easily, and the prepara­ tion checks their growth for several weeks." "Do you find many ladies who are afflicted with beard and mustaches?" "Oh, yes. There are dozens of them in this big city. Brunettes are more troubled in this way than blondes, and the older the patient is the more time it takes to remove it. My mother has many customers, real fashionable la­ dies, who are 50 years of age, who visit her regularly. But the majority of her customers are professional peo­ ple, such as actresses, Bingers and such like. They are very particular, too, but money is no object with them, and on special occasions they do not hesi- fate to pay as much as $5 a visit. Her regular fee is $2." Webster's Dress and Quotations. Mr. Webster is remembered by those who were his ieii(w*uOwue» as Laving given very little trouble. He always secured the attendance of servants by liberal fees, and he was generous in passing the wine which he used to bring with him from his room when he came to dinner. He was very particular about his per­ sonal appearance, and on one occasion intimated to a fellow-boarder that it was not proper for a gentleman to come to the breakfast-table wearing a dress­ ing-gown. Whenever he expected to address the Senate or the Supreme Court, he always arrayed himself with great care, and in the later years of his life he wore the old Whig colors--blue coat, with buff vest and black trousers. Mr. Webster was very familiar with the British poets, from Spenser to Sher­ idan inclusive, and often quoted from them in the Senate and in conversation. On one occasion when Mr. Buchanan had made a speech in the Senate, im­ puting dishonorable conduct to En­ gland (as if the British Government was still oppressing us under a colonial bondage), he quoted a humorous ep­ itaph, which had ,, been proposed, he said, for the tombstone of a man named Wraxall, as follows: "Mistaken, misdatincr, Miseitinft, iniHwritinjr, < Misspelling, mtatelling. Ill-sorting, diHtortinir, Confusing, abus ng. Words, speeches, letters and facts all; Here lie the bones of Nathaniel Wraxall." Once Mr. Ewing, of Ohio, the father of Mrs. Gen. Sherman, said, in a speech, that if the bill under discussion was enacted, "our lakes would be barren wastes of water and our canals sol­ itudes." After that he was called at the Capitol "Solitude Ewing." One evening he gave a large party, and Mr. Webster arrived late. Forcing his way through tho crowd, hj||.vfSK; claimed, as he reached his host: "O solitude,, where are the charms ? . That sages have seen In thy face?" It elicited a roar of laughter, in which Mr. Ewing joined. The Original Clothes-Wringer. In September, 1848, says the Scien­ tific American, the forerunner of the clothes-wringer appeared in a washing- machine patent which claimed simply "the combination of the conical rollers with the hinged platform for the pur­ pose of rubbing clothes and squeezing the water out of them as herein de­ scribed." This patent expired in 1862, but the Commissioner, under the law as then existing, in 1862 gave it a seven years' extension, which carried it down to 1869. In 1861, however, the holders of this patent surrendered it for a re­ issue, which restated the original claim and added two new ones, the more im­ portant being "the combination and use of elastic rollers which shall readily yield to any inequalities of the clothes passing through them and thereby pre­ vent injury," etc. Here, as will be ob­ served, the idea of elastic rollers came in for the first time. In 1863, only eighteen months later, this reissued pat­ ent was itself surrendered in exchange for another, which wont further and in­ troduced a new and broad claim, thus: "The application of india-rubber or other elastic gum impervious to water, substantially in the manner and for the purposes described, to the rolls of ma­ chines for washing and squeezing clothes." This, as will readily be seen, is a claim covering broadly a»d fully the foundation of the modern clothes-wringer, and if it could be sus­ tained and have a number of years to run it would be worih a large fortune. But there was not even a hint of elastic roller in tfaa original patent of 1848, **dlfcaft»*s for a washes, and not a yrinjpe>; then a reissue got in a olaim for elastic rollers, and the reissued re- issue "took in" the sabstanoa of the wringer without even a grimaoe. Con­ gress has been asked ostensibly in the interest of the heirs of the original pat­ ent, to revive and extend ii Congress has not done so, and if it had there can be little doubt that, in thn light of Sn- Sreme Court decisions on dishonest re-sues, the parties concerned would soon find themselves set back to the Sound covered in 1848. The case re-bed herein is a pat illustration of one of the mischiefs of encouraging inven­ tion which has now to be restricted, and reformed. ':* " <1? *: .. Indians in School. Capt. Pratt, head of the Indian at Carlisle, Penn., in which the child­ ren of chiefs of almost all the tribes are being educated, lately told the follow­ ing story of his method of dealing with them. " Four Navajoes were brought to the school, some of them young men of 18. The* day after they arrived they were placed in-classes and taken to the shops where the Indian boys are taught trades. But the Navajoes haughtily re­ fused to learn or to work. The aristo­ cratic spirit was strong in them, and there is no aristocrat so confident of his impregnable position as an Tn^ian. The teachers came with their oom- plaints to Capt. Pratt. "They are stubborn and we cannot punish them. What shall we do?" Nothing. Let them alone. Let them eat and sleep and be as idle aa they choose." At first this treatment appeared to agree excellently with them. They loafed about the buildings, or lay in the sun, terribly homesick for their own woods. At last they began to take note of the stir and cheerful life in the busy hive about them, and wistfully watched their comrades at work. On the first of the month the boys came up in line to be paid their wages for the work they had done. "What is that? Why do they have money?" eagerly inquired the Navajoes. "They are paid for work." The idea was a new one; these men had never in their lives had the oppor­ tunity of earning money, or of seeing men earn it. It worked like leaven in their minds. For several days they were quiet and thoughtful. Then, one after another, they came and asked for a place in the shops and in classes. "The Indian," says Capt. Pratt, "is taught to think he is degraded by work. I would teach him that work is respect­ able." It is difficult for any man to learn a lesson which is never taught to him either by precept or example. The Indian on a reservation is as secluded as in a prison. He lives upon rations which he feels are his due, being given him usually in payment for immense bodies of land which he has sold to the Government. He is never brought in contact with the great busy market of the world. He has no share in its in­ dustries or its wages; he has no protec­ tion under its laws. It is a fact that the Santee Sioux, the Omahas, Ponoas, Cherokees, and every other tribe to whom the chance has fairly been given, have eagerly aocepted civilization. They have farms, school-houses and churches. They have learned not only that work is respectable, but that there - • iblc or than the man, be he white, black or red, who does good work in the world, and is well paid for it. If every white boy and girl who reads the Companion learns the same truth and acts on it, the effect upon the next generation would be a beneficent and a marked one.--Youth's Companion. A Good Word for OatmeaL The oat crop, which is so prominent in our farming, is rarely utilized for farmers' tables. In a somewhat long acquaintance in the rural districts, we do not remember to have met with oat­ meal cooked in any form. This diet is a favorite at the breakfast table in our large cities, in the form of mush, and, eaten with sugar and milk, is an ap­ petising and wholesome article of diet. But upon the farm the oat crop is very largely a money crop.^old in the nearest market or at the railway station. If used upon the farm it goes to the horse without grinding, or, if ground, as prov­ ender for the pigs. Almost everywhere we meet with corn products upon the table, Indian bread, the convenient johnny-cake, hasty pudding, samp, hominy, corn bread, and that finest of all summer dishes, succotash--the sweet corn mingled with the savory juices of the bean. The wheat plant is well represented in bread and other forms of cooking, though it has ceased to be a product of many Northern farms. In all the region where rye has taken the place of wheat, rye bread is a staple article of diet. Baked beans are about as popular as ever, in the rural districts, , and are likely to hold their own with the coming generations. But oatmeal is ignored as a food fit for men. Among the people who use it, and in the analysis of the chemist, it stands con­ fessed as one of the most nutritious and economical foods that can be used. The Scotch people are living examples of what oatmeal will do to make an athletic race with plenty of brain, bone and muscle. The Scotchman's average daily rations is two and one-half pounds of oatmeal and a pint of milk. On this he thrives and performs the labor of the farm. Analysis shows that oatmeal is very rich in nitrogenous matter, and comes much nearer wheat flour in nu­ tritive value than is generally supposed. The following table shows their com­ parative value: Whea. Oatmeal flour. 13.1* l&8 63.06 TO.fi 6.09 a.0 8.00 l.T ..... 18.0 15 0 There can be no doubt that oatmeal, cooked in its various forms, might be added to the list of our dishes in the farming districts with great advantage. It is one of the best sustainers of muscle in the list of human foods. Ameri&im Agriculturist * Cnrtoas. The Mechanical Engineer tells a strange story of the effect produced on a wrought-iron forging by a human hair. The forging was in a powerful cold press for finishing the forging after it is shaped. It was put between two hardened steel dies and subjected to a pressure of 100 tons to the square inch. A hair taken from the head of a bystander was placed on the face of the forging, and tihe full pressure ap­ plied. The result was that the hair was driven into the forging and imbed­ ded in it, the hair itself remaining un­ injured, and being removed intact. If everybody's hair is an unyielding as that, how are we to account for vanoua things that we iee and feel ? Nitrogenous matter.... Carbo-hydratea Fatty matter Saline matter Mineral matter......... Water