Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, April 27, 1873, Page 7

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated April 27, 1873 Page 7
Text content (automatically generated)

MOVING. The Horrors of the Blay- Moon. Responsibility of the Old Puritans for the American Demon of Unrest. Exposure of Your Domestic Skeletons. The Mysteries and Miseries of Koase- Himting—Some Hints to Landlords. No More Old-Fashioned “Homes”— The Present Eagerness ■ for Change,' Moving Then, and Now. If the wicked flee when no man pursdeth,” what ah iniquitous race wo must be V for, an nually at least, a large proportion of us dislodge all our household gods, and, with much worri ment of mind, excessive fatigue of body, and a decided general demoralization, we proceed to erect new altars in other, not always, better places, and reinstate our Lares and Penates for another brief period. Those • RESTLESS OLD rUIUTANS, who could not bo contented with quietly going to Heaven in the regular way, have much to an swer for. Instead of saying their prayers in the old Church of England fashion, eating their din ners comfortably, and sojourning. quietly under their inherited roof-troes, whether manor-house or cottage, they had to stir up that restless, un easy, never-satisfied moral element, called CONSCIENCE. They listened to its dictates; they submitted to ita authority; they said “ good-bye” to peace and tranquillity thenceforward and forever. Conscience is, no doubt, a desirable monitor; bat it is just possible that it occasionally re quires the guiding influence of Season. Left unrestrained, it is quite apt to mount upon a bigh horse, take the bit in its mouth, gallop away at will, until it loses its own sense of intel ligent action, grows blind from the fury of its own unchecked race, and may take one into all sorts of thorny by-paths; or perchance come to decided grief in the end. It is not at all likely that such was the kind of conscience that stirred up our ancestors; but it was undoubtedly of the prickly sort,—a kind of MENTAL NETTLE-RASH, that kept them constantly in an uneasy state. First, their moral convictions became unsettled; thence the contagion spread to the mental; the stomach responded to the brain, as the brain does to the stomach, and, behold! a certain asceticism became a symptom. This upset the physical equilibrium, and a general uneasiness mpervened, which at last culminated in tbat PIBST MOVE TO HOimilvD, This was bnt the incipient stage of the disease, which was eventually to become a wide-spread contagion, that, like inherited scrofula, should affect and infect their children and children’s children to remotest posterity. “ The sins of the fathers’’was here to he exemplified in another way. Holland answered very well for a firstmove; but the Dutch were a stolid race. They were content to tio up their cows' tails, sconr the out side of their houses, smoke their pipes, drink their unrighteous beer, sleep ■ the sleep of the Justified, and riot live in a perpetual state of sclf tonnent. It is doubtful if the unpardonable sin aver cost them an instant’s thought: Of course, this was all very dreadful, and those good, old, conscience-awakened self-martyrs must have been in despair. That they resisted massaeteing the whole obtuse race for righteousness’ sake, was probably only a question of numbers, not of Eeah However, as they conld not ronse tha som nolent Dutchman to a realizing sense of the er ror of his ways, it was quite impossible to stay and contemplate it, and ANOTHEB HOVE WAS PEBFOBCE MADE. Conscience, and the first symptoms of dyspep sia, contingent upon the unsettled state of their moral, mental, and physical being, urged them on, and they determined to seek a home where, as a peculiar people, they could indulge in as many religious pirouettes as'their mental urtica ria might suggest. Plymouth Bock has become the BLABKEI-STONE OP AMERICA. It has been •sentimentalized upon ad libitum; some people are heretical enough' to think ad nauseam, —hut then they are not bom Yankees, only unorthodox outsiders, who probably sneer from envy. Mrs. Hemans wrote, “Ihe breaking wares dashed high,", and every school-boy has declaimed, with proper emphasis, pathos, and pride, that self-satisfying poem, reaching the giimuT of climaxes as he finishes with the lines: They hare left unstained what there they found,— freedom to worship God. . Or not to worship Him, one might add, in new of the numerous churches and Email congrega tions which one is forced to contemplate in largo dries. With this aspect of tho subject we have nothing to do, at present, except inas much as it was the original seed-time from which seem to be destined to reap a per petual harvest. arovEKO. 2 vm a better one, for there was an entire vast continent, larger than the whole of Europe, for them to move around in and infect with discon tent. If Consider Bara-bones* conscience was a little more stinging and lively than Charity Bend-tho-lmbes’, ana he had not suflicient physi cal power to persuade the latter into an equal date of mental disquietude, or if he disagreed with, the community with whom he dwelt gener ally, all he to do was to take his poor, paltry life in his own hands, lay in a supply of powder md shot for the benefit of his Indian neighbors, Uhe his trusty rifle, and - MOVE. Here he could build a stockade.' or block house, and glorify God according to the dictates of his own conscience. Oh! degenerate days epoa .which we have fallen 1 There is the same old restless spirit, the same uneasy condition of Bind, but the flavor has all gone out of it. No religious disabilities now send us off upon our tßTinal hegira. No aromatic spice of over topping virtue permeating us with an odor of Uuctity, no moving for conscience sake, but a YILE CATESIXQ TO CREA.TUBE COMTQBTS, a question of gaa, furnace, ranee, lavatory poe sbuities, French windows, marble fronts, llan ord roofs, or, degradation of degradation, even lUtionary wash-tubs. There is not a single tarsi element left, for, although anathemas ejj be hurled by both landlord and tenant, they bate no regal strength. or sacerdotal vengeance, bat are more like those cruses which have been tcaipared to immature members of the GaUinacm InmlT. - "fis true, ’tls pity,—pity ’tie, ’tie true and •o, having fallen upon these later, material days, -*uh no grand moral or heroic element to Btimn bte ag, we go forth npon our weary round in guch of “ other evils that we know, not of.” jtt have heard of people who went house-hunt- FOB THE LOVE OF IT, Enviable mortals I They are none of your piiet, self-satisfied creatures, who are contented to lire and let lire; but inquiring minds, who, to*tead of being wholly engrossed with their own piy. miserablehome allairs, find abundant room, a their broad interpretation of neighboriineas, w take you and your private concerns under I ifcdai auperrifilon - and criticism. They. have T themselves into your parlor and dining but nsTer vet have penetrated the Elen s' joar kitchen and bed-rooms. They know y 2 ** there is a skeleton m every house, but they quite found out where you kept > . ibe TABirmrrA of disooutest Pren you jta annual bite, and you have pla- yourfiisease os they do small-pox in Chi the announcement “Tor Bent” on jJJfQoor,.' The preposition, by the way, looks, to a stranger, and reminds him that he friUSt** 0 hum” in New England. Now is your a chinoo. Bhehae a right to count your Sfibweatigaie your larder, open your ward- took under your beds, do everything but *** «aa Ttmr bureau-drawers; and, if you" let furnished,” she may even do that. Nothing es capes her. She has come early purposely,—her inquisitive nose sharpened to a more acute angle than ordinary; her gimlet eyes aidedhy. 1 * double binoculars,” or extra-power achromatics, war ranted to combine the properties of telescope and microscope. Nothing too distant to escape her, —nothing too minute to he overlooked. She will not bo satisfied with making you one visit; she will come half-a-dozen tunes, lor. various reasons, and she will observe, and make a note of, every phase of your existence. Henceforth you arc at her mercy. Those two little misera ble words, “For Bent,” ■ HAVE UNDONE IOU. All those private little mortifications and self renunciations you have undergone for society's sake are no longer hidden, but all your short comings in the furnishing way. or otherwise, are matter for comment to Mrs. Pry, and she greatly rejoices therein. The tarantula-bite has un done yoiij and all the dear, sweotprivacy of home is invaded and destroyed. This is the woman who house-hunts for the love of it. To ail the rest, it is - • AH INEXTBESSIBLE WEARINESS. ■ We will suppose you are a parson of moderate means. You are passably well-suited with your house. It is as good as houses in general, and you have quite fitted yourself into it; but your landlord has raised your rout. It ia au unfortu nate"failing of landlords, which they seem annu ally to fall into. You think you are already paying all the house is worth, and your income may make a certain limit of expenditure in that * way a necessity. So you start forth on what we once heard a native or Erin call your grum mage.” It is apt to become : « , • * A OBOANAOB before yon get through, for, of all disheartening pursuits, generative of aching hmhs, .mined temper, and spoiled clothing, commend ns to house-hunting. Ton go to a real-estate agent, and get a list of housoe, each of which Booms to he exactly the thing you want; and, with.high' bopoe ana elated spirits, you feel sura that the very first will answer. You take a cor,-and ride two or three miios, and then walk four or five blocks to the desired locality, which proves to be not desirable. The: house is nice, but ita sur roundings of quagmire and pig-sty make you furious with the agent, who, never having visit ed the locality, is quite innocent of any attempt to impose upon your simplicity. You don’t think so,’ however, and, with very rod cheeks, com pressed Ups, and emphatic. step, yen start, for the next on your list, only a few squares off. This looks like a bam of a place, but you think you will investigate, and you ring the bell. A frowsy portress opens the door on a crack; and permits yon to see the tip of her nose. ■ “is THIS BOUSE TO LET?" “CAN I SEE IT?” are the words which you squeeze through that narrow space, in tho hope that they may reach her auricular organs. Tho answer is a closing of thedooranda scuffling-off. 11 Idiot I” you re mark, not in a whisper, and are about to turn away, when the door again opens, this time half way, and a higher grade of intelligence presents itself. Again you repost the formula, and this t?npq are permitted to enter. There is cold wa ter, but no hot; the bath-room is very con veniently located off the kitchen; and the parlor floor yon cannot see, because it is rented to a lady who won’t lot any one in. Ton turn away, and just a little beyond see a bill, and yon rush toward it. *• Upper part of this house to let.*’ That will not answer, but you remember that some one told yon that, about a quarter of a mile from where you then, are, there have been SOKE NEW HOUSES BUTLTINO, which would be just tho thing for yon. Ton go to look at them. Decidedly now houses, the lath still guiltless of plaster, and it is now tho middle of ApriL Consigning all your kind, well-inform ed, and interested friends to the torment of per petual honao-hnuting, you are again lured on by bills in the distance. They are like phosphor escent lights, regular ’WHI-’o-the-wisps that lure you on from the right path, and never prove to be tho illumination you so fondly believe them. At last you have FOCKD THE BIGHT PLACE, —justwhat you want; and, with an eager, gratified sense of having at last accomplished something worth while, you forgive the agent all his malign representations by which you wore earlier victim ized, and, with a sense of righteous superiority over those poor souls who are still in search of a terrestrial paradise, you hasten back to the office, and, entering with a careless, . rather indifferent air, so as not to seem too eager, you suggest to the at tending clerk that “ you have soon suoha house, and, you think, may moke it do;” “Sorry, ma’am! BUT THAT HOUSE IS LET. Mr. Brown signed the lease not an hour'ago.” You aro snppoeahly a Christian; yon conned “Thou shait not kill” in your petticoat days, and wondered if it applied to flies; but all those pious instructions go by .the board, and Mr, Brown, under a verdict by an astute jury of a “ dispensation of Providence,” would be an altogether uncomfortable subject of considera tion to you, in spite of your orthodox bringing np. Again the same weary round, continuedfor weeks, perhaps; never finding quite the right thing, until at last yonr house is rented over your head, and, like the girl who went through the matrimonial wood and cast aside with scorn possibly eligible offers, yon take up with. - ■ A OEOOKED STICK AT LAST, not as good as you might have had, —not even os desirable aa you already had. ' ’ ah this if you know the city well; are used to its peculiarities; have been an citizen long enough to take a pride in its.deficlencies, and to repel with scorn the suggestion that any thing about it could bo bettered. . IF YOU ABE A 6TBA>'GER, • however, and have come from a region of brick And stone, whore frame houses have been ta booed for years, and you arc not yet sufficiently identified with the place to forego criticism or comparisons, you have indeed a serious under taking before you. A frame house .suggests Brooklyn or Dorchester to you, and you have a lordly scorn of suburbs; so you look with con tempt at the -wooden structures and. assail the marblo fronts. A now city,—cheap rents of course. One can live here, and - you mildly in quire what the terms are. A COLD BHOWEB-BATH may be invigorating, but it always comos with a shock to the system, and the reply to your queiy has a somewhat similar effect, suggestive as It is of Madison avenue or Beacon street, to neither of which have you over aspired,.even in your most hopeful days. Somewhat crestfallen, •you turn away, and decide that a two-story brick may answer. Ton go in search of it. The neighborhood is not qnite what you had thought you should like, but you make the best of it, and proceed to investigate. You ask to look at the collar, and learn with surprise that only in cer tain localities in Chicago aro cellars possible; but there is a nice wood-shed, with a door open ing into an alley, so that your fuel can be easily placed there, without tho necessity of taking jt through tho houso. You consent to give np the cellar, and look at the outbuilding, and open the gate leading into the alley. The accumulated HEAPS OF ASHES A2fD GASBAGS * which have been thus conveniently disposed of for the entire -winter, greetyonrviaual ahd olfac tory organa, and yon -wonder if the street-clean ing ordinance does not extend to those conven ient alleys. Again yon retnrh to the house, and a cumbrous stove fills np ft huge space in the kitchen. “ What an awkward thing!” you think; “Imil soon dispose of that;” when you are asked by the tenant “if yon would not like to buy it ?*’ and yon learn that this is the hot-water generator, and, with the boiler, is the - mavATB feopzbtt or the tehakt. • ; You must buy something of the kind, or have that bath-tub, which has been especially pointed out bythe landlord aabeinga very desirable. mod em convenience, of as much use as though it was situated at the North Pole. Was there ever a more mistaken, ridicnlons idea ? A Now Yorker would qnite as soon think of carrying his chim ney aronnd with him as his range, and hot and cold water are a matter of course. Yon grow home-rick. “Can Chicago be any thing more than an overgrown village, after all ?” is your mental query. Carry yonr cook-stove! bo the proprietor of your own hot-water! This is a freedom of personal ac commodation to which you cannot grow accus tomed. How you long for that well-built range tbat is a portion of the honse AS MUCH AS ITS WAULS; and how yon detest that huge substitute that makes yon nervous and uncomfortable, until you insist upon going bock to civilization, and stationary ranges end hot-water apparatus! Let landlords at least think of this, and, as they pride themselves upon their beautiful city, to use a new and never-before-mentioned comparison, rising like a Phoenix from its ashes, let them get rid of these primitive ideas that still suggest a remote village, and build their houses with mod ern conveniences indeed. It will cost but little more, but it will be a long step onward toward making Chicago a City in fact, as well as m name. • ' . * EAVUfO FOUND THE HOUSE 1 which has some advantages over your present lo catiou, and deliberately closed your eyes to its dir advantages, which will still keep persistently thrusting themselves upon your inner concions nesa, you prepare for the removal, or, rather, you commence preparations. If you are of the eitra-nomadio mass who wander wherever the winds of destiny waft them, or the crops of - for tune seem likely to flourish, you will have httlo difficulty about the matter. - Tour household belongings will only consist of necessaries, and those in aucb a scratched and battered condition THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, APRIL 27, 1873. that a few bruises more or less will not bo ob servable. To such there is no breaking up of old associations, no tender regrets, no cherished memories to he assaulted, —only another change, which may or may not be better than the last . To very few people m this country is it given to re main long enough in one bouse for its associa tion to become INTERWOVEN WITH THEm LIVES, until each stone or plank seems almost sentient. Changing constantly, we have lost much of that cherishing of old things, material or immaterial,' that can only properly originate in a long-con tinued residence in one place, or in an inherited ownership of it. This has both its advantages and disadvantages. While it has taken us out of many old and narrow grooves, broadened thought, awakened ideas, it has also had some thing of a disintegrating effect, and solidity has given way to the worst results of which are shown in its action upon social life and its varied relations. It is manifest also in the readiness with which change is effected, — the eager desire for it in many cases. .It is shown, in a contempt for old things, even ex tending to our furnishings. Everything must bo now and modem, even when it is an adapta tion of old fashions; and, if a sudden fancy for old articles arise, and antique furnishings are sought for, it is only another phase of the rest less spirit, end it soon vanishes when rococo objects grow unfashionable. It la a rare thing nowadays for people to occn -5y the same house for a period of ten years, wo, three, or four years at the most, limit their residence, and then they flit in subjection to their inherent instincts. WHEN OUB FATHEBB MOVED, it was indeed a serious boßinoßS. Not bo much :furnitnre, perhaps; but then the sofas, and -wardrobes, and sideboards of those days were of the invulnerable sort, made to last for gener tions, built of good solid wood, hand-poliahed with oil and beeswax, by grandmamma's help. None of your veneered apologies, that crack, and split, and peel off, and which a child can wheel about or overturn, but requiring half-a-dozen able-bodied men to lift,'while their muscles stood out like cables with the extreme exertion. But, beyond this, there were other im movable matters, immaterial, but personified in the mind and heart of the residents. IT WAS AN OLD-FASHIONED HOUSE. It had not a modem improvement. The halls were nßin in winter, but there were grates in the Earlors, and an old-fashioned firo-placo in the brary. Brass dogs were polished to the perfec tion of brightness. Tho fender was no flimsy sham nor gilded attempt at ornament, but a gen uine protection from flying sparks or errant flame,—a fulfilled intention. The massive ma hogany sideboard still hold the portly decanters, which, when she was first married, were part of Mamma's overy-day dinner service, but of late years had been on tho retired list, except on ex tra holidays. To this house she had come homo a bride, with high hopes and passionate love. Here had been the first quarrel and tho delicious reconciliation, until years had temper ed enthusiasm, and quiet friendship had taken tbe place of earlier infatuation and expectation. Here the babies were born that have now grown to man and womanhood. Hero the elder ones have been married in the old home-parlor; and here also waxen hands have been folded over an infant, pulseless heart, that tho gods have loved, and bitter, rebellious tears have perhaps been shed, until years have taught that it “is better not to he." These are the wrenches that TEAS THE HEABT-STIUNQS, and It seems like preparing for a funeral for Mamma to dislodge all her old-time possessions and replace them with now. But the daughters have grown up; the younger branches have been elf to a modem boarding school ; the sons have graduated at college; and the former, at least, return with tip-tflted noses to a survey of the old-faahion cd surroundings. All the evidences of preceding culture are nothing in tho ©yes of these young ladies, who have scon the gilt and lacquer of fine modem establishments. So the old folks (tho modem interpretation of Sire and Madam), crowded out of their dear, old, paradoxi cal, uncomfortable comforts, -yield to the pres sure of modem innovation, and consent to give them up. ' * Tho “Governor” still insists upon THE BTOE-BOABD in preference to the modern bullet; and ita ma hogany, that has grown almost as black as ebony, for a rime intercedes its stateliness upon the florid oak or walnut, bnt eventually finds ita way to the auction-room. There are no convenient attics in the new hrowu-stono or marble house, to be used as infirmaries for aged or retired fur niture. THE OLD EILLIABn-TABIE, with its rusty baize and obsolete pockets, goes at once. At this point the sons' noses grow tip tilted, and the front basement of the new house sees a vastly different affair from that which the broad, square room off of the dining room held, —a splendid article, with ail the latest improvements: tho cues, bridges, tallies, arrangements for playing pin-pool, all of tho very best, and quite different from that old thing, only fit for firewood. Would it prove as innocent? Ah\ cela (Irpeitd. Mamma holds out for THE OLD-FASHIONED FOITB-POSTEB, though it has boeu altered and revised until it is tut a mutilated edition of the original work. The lege have been sawed off to bring it down to the level of modem requirements, and that has given it a top-heavy effect. The cord has been replaced by slats and" springe, and the leathers and down by culled hair, —to all of which Mam ma was long in becoming a convert. The chintz curtains have been replaced by the lightest white drapery, no longer enshrouding it, but drawn back, and, although It is more comfortable, it seems, like everything else that has been mod ernized, to be but a crippled malforma tion, Instead of a stately presence. Still, Mamma clings to it. Dwarfed, distorted as it is, she still considers it immensely superior as a sloop-inducer to all modem French abominv tlona. Yes,' let the girls say what they will, she will keep that, and the capacious chest of draw ers, and the old easy chairs, with their straight backp. The girls look as contenaptuously as they dare, but Mamma is a scion of the old, steady going school, that learned tho fifth commaud mont, and considered it still an effective ordi nance. So the work of tearing up and packing commences, and all sorts of strange things aro brought to light. Out from the mouldy old gar ret is dragged A OAMTHOB-WOOD CHEST. “ Just the thing to keep oar furs in!” exclaim the girls, who, not having been at home for some years, have forgotten its existence, as during vacation they have felt no desire to rummage through dusty old rubbish. But to Mam ma it recalls tho young sailor broth er who brought 'it homo from one ■of his voyages, filled with strange things from foreign lands, —shawls, silks, shells, earrings. Some still remain within it, and she thinks that, fifteen years ago, he sailed away to Indian seas, and was never heard from again, until Hope, yielded to Despair, and the verdict, “ Foundered at sea,” was finally accepted. It has long been a buried grief, heaped over with an accumulation of life’s joys and sorrows; but this brings the corpse from its grave, and, fresh as if nothing had intervened to hide it from her sight, ena breaks down utterly. So, as one hidden hoard after another is drawn forth, are the chords of feeling struck, TOO OFTEN Ef A IHNOB SEE. These are the dainty robes wrought with such joy love, and hope for her first-born, whoso initiatory wail scarce woke triumphant hoppinese in her heart before the eyes closed forever, and a tiny, grass-grown mound held all her hopes, too brief to have been shared by fears. The satin sheen of. her wed ding-dress, when the silver locks were golden, and hope had not become acceptance, sends her thoughts also into the past, and moving with her means many things Derides a mere change of residence. These are ghosts fitted to an old garret, hut there will be no room for them in the new houso. The Mansard has sleeping apart ments for servants, and cedar closets to store winter woolens and furs, but no place in which to bestow worthless old relics. It is a result of the new, living, active, ever-changing present, with no room for mouldy old memories and levee, and tho material emblems that served to keep them alive. OLD BOBBISH ! GET BID OF IT 1 It’s in tiie way. We have new doctrines,new ideas, new philosophies. Streets are necessarily cut through old grave-yards to accommodate the business exigencies of the time; and shall tho grave-yards of more memory meet with a hotter lata ? Dear, good, sweet, old-fash ioned mother, yon must give them up. It was all very well in the old house, you are gomg to move. You will have modem improvements. A furnace with holes in the walls or floor, into which you may look grimly, hut you wm have to bo very imaginative if you make any pictures in them that are not of the most vacu ous kind. Yonr house is to bo new-furnished by a fashionable upholsterer, and aU you have got to do is to bury your dead as quickly as pos sible, and assimilate yourself to the curves and sinuosities of modem upholstery, in place of the square uprightness of that to which you have beanneenstomed. Shall wo ever get back THE GOOD OLD EOSCE , again, built not for a more tenement, to bo rented to any. one who chooses to occupy it, but for our children, and children’s children perhaps? A place where stable thoughts may take the place' of ephemeral fancies. It is impossible ui the present state of social unrest, where the majority of people live in other people’s houses, not settling down, bat merely pausing for too brief a space for anything very solid or deep to take root. Everything is of the butterfly order,- and froth seems to be the only thing demanded, either in brain-work or material objects. ' ’ WS- HAVE 2fO HOMES which can justly be called such, and we only be gin to fit ourselves into our habitations when some cause or other sends os forth to recom mence the assimilating process. It may he nec essary. but it is at least unfortunate. It keeps things' in a crude, unsettled state, with dregs constantly coming to the top of our wine of life, and we get a muddy, tasteless, or sour liquid, m place of a clear, rich fluid. Evolution from this phase is certainly de sirable, but it requires more steadiness of pur pose,—more inflexibility of will than our present' surroundings seem calculated to propagate. Home is rapidly losing its meaning to Americans, and the Ixench “chez-nous” seems far more applicable to our present condition and tenden cies. A natural sequence, perhaps, to the rest less spirit inherited from our Puritan fore fathers, and the admixture of all that dissatis fied, adventurous, or disloyal blood that haa found an asylum on our and been freely mingled with our own. But is it not time now to PAUSE AND THINK? We have brewed our mixture, stirred it tip from its very depths, until all the ingredients are in a state of commotion; and whether it is to boa witch’s potion productive of Walpurgis- Night saturnalia, or nectar from which gods shall rise in strength, power, and grandeur, depends yery much upon tue settling process, A little of the chemical effect of home would probably not be amiss. Hot to eventually make it the ab sorbing element, but the controlling one. Hot to fallback into old, mouldy, rusty grooves; but to preserve the now ones from friction, to. select, analyze, and divide, keeping only the best. Solidifying things, evolving less froth, and rais ing more body. A solid base, whence may issue all sorts of scintillating lights, useful vapors, and electric fluids, but which shall generate no elements whence can arise those phosphorescent ignes-fatul that lead to social or intellectual de moralization or degeneration. . This au serteux is problematical, while the practical illustration, from which we have widely wandered, is rather ludicrous. Ton, Madame, are of the modern stamp. You move semi-occa sion&Uy, IF NOT OFTENEB, and have always lived in other people’s houses. Your children have been born anywhere that tho accident of the moment might render necessary. Yon have no special home-ties to break up. No ‘ old love-letters, tied up with faded blue ribbon because it was emblematical of constancy, and hidden away in some secret drawer of an old secretary. You don’t own any old secretary, and these sentimental mementoes were horned long ago to save the trouble of carrying about, and the possible betrayal to mocking eyes of the re sults of your gushing days. Your energies are all bent upon the taking up of carpets, the get ting down of bedsteads: and you rejoice, when you have to superintend tho latter, tbat too day of cords, bod-wrenches, screws, pegs, or hole*, are things of tho past. The modem sllding-hoit is a vast . improvement. To bo sure, tho wood is apt to warp, and unseemly cracks sometimes present them selves in that "towering head-board or very low foot-board, both of which look monumental, and remind one of tho stones affixed to graves. A dread of smashed looking-glasses is upon you, for modem plate, screwed upon marble-topped bureaus, is by no means of the same quality as that which hung between the windows in the room where you. were bom. The heat of tho modern house baa,had a divorcingeffectupon the glutinous substitute for * morticed joints, and casters show an amazing facility for parting company with the objects to which they are at tached, leaving them in a crippled condition. THE WEATHER IB HAW; ’ it always is at moving-time, and you have dis pensed with the furnace-fire, because the coal is just out, and it is not worth while to order more whan you are going so soon. Yon also have a kind of unspoken hope. that it may become mild and warm, really pleasant, April weather j and so you go on with the tearing-up process, m cold rooms, until you have a cheerful influenza to add to your other delightful experiences. You never imagined yon had so many things before, until they are all tumbled into chaos, and then, in the vain en deavor to make a movable cosmos of them, you devoutly exclaim, “ Blessed be nothing! 11 This is only the cosoiENCEaanrr or tbouble. however. Wait till moving-day comes! Then, if you are not one of those provisional' women who have arranged to have one room in readi ness in the new bouse asa sort of haven of rest, Heaven help you. If you are a wise woman, se cure it. Cajole, flatter, insinuate, diplomatize, use every art in your power to obtain it, but se cure at any price that one room, and make it habitable before the fatal, revolutionizing day arrives. “ DECORATION DAY.” Great hearts lio "buried here. And this Is holy ground ; A hero lies beneath Each grassy mound. fio despot's ruffian slaves. Impressed through force and fear, Xo hirelings of a crown. Lie mouldering here. Then, maidens, scatter flowers, Yor Nature freely psrta With her store to honor These gallant hearts. What tat if yonder grave Contains a Southron's hones 7 Ho died in error. True, His death atones. Let no invidious thoughts At this Iste hour intrude. Nor to thy kinsman's death With rage allude. This is no common ground; The green earth round has not, Than where we gather now, A holier spot. Then reverently stand. With bat in hand, and cast Tour eyes upon tho ground. And mourn the paet. Hartford and the Charter Oak, Boston is celebrated for its monument to the lamented Mr. Banker Hill, Providence forßoger Williams, Philadelphia for its butter and Qua kers. ana Hartford for its Charter Oak. Mark Twain has visited Hartford. He saw tho Oak. Likewise heard it spoken of. He says: I went all over Hartford with a citizen whoso ancestors came over with tho pilgrims in the Quakers City—in the Mayflower, I should say— and he allowed me oil the histone relics of Hart ford. He showed me a beautifully carved chair In the Senate chamber, where the bewigged and awfully homely old-time Governors of the com monwealth frown from their canvass overhead, ‘ < made from charter oak,” ho aaid: I gazed upon it with inexpressible solitude. He showed me another carved chair in tho House, “Charter Oak,” he said. I gazed again with interest. Then he looked at the rusty, stained, famous old charter, and presently I turned to move away. But he solemnly drew mo hack and pointed to the frame. “ Charter' Oak,”, he said. I wor shiped. Wo went down to Wadsworth’s .Athe naeum, and I wanted to look at th epictnres; hut he conveyed me silently to a comer and pointed to a log rudely shaped somewhat like a chair, and whispered “ Charter Oak.” X exhibited tho accustomed reverence. He showed me a walk ing-stick, needlo-caso, a dog-collar, a three legged-stool, a boot-jack, a dinner-table, a ten pin alloy, a tooth-picker— I interrupted hun and said, “ Never mind well bunch the whole lumber yard, and call it—" “ Charter Oak,” he said. “ Well," I said, “now, let us go and see some charter oak for a change.” I meant that for a joke; Imt bow was ho to know that, being a stranger? Ho took me around and showed me charter oak enough to build a plankroad from here to great Salt Lake city. It is a shame to confess it, but I began to get a little weary of charter oak finally; and when ho invited me to go home with him to tea, it filled mo with a bleseod sense of relief. He introduced me to his wife and they left me alone a moment to amuse myself with their little boy. I said, in a grave, paternal way, “ My eon, what is your name f” And he said, “ Charter Oak Johnson.” This was sufficient for a sensitive nature like mine. I departed out of that mansion without another word. ■ —A lion-tamer at Turin has been in tho habit of entering a den populated with lions, bears, tigers, anaothar gentle playmates, taking with him a lamb, which ho not only made to lie down with tho lion, but actually put tho little inno cent’s head nr tho monsters mouth; but the lion, on thinking it over, concluded it was only a sham millonninm, afterjall—real one wasn’t duo—- and so the other day there was a suppressed bleat, a crunching sound, and the royal quadru ped was enjoying a lunch of young mutton, rare, and without gravy, and nothing but a mas terly retreat saved the tamer from fumiahing the next mouthful. . A mass-meeting of Catholics in Philadelphia expresses sympathy with the Catholics in Ger many. THE UINTAH MOUNTAINS. Approach of Spring—A Mew Mode of Carrying Snuffers. Indian Wanderings—Holiday Sports —-Old Fort Supply—Moun tain-Scenery. A Neighborly Mountaineer Prickly- Pears—A Hot Seat. Fairy Lakes Bears’ Claws Savage Ornaments—Spanish Explor ers—Pantliers. From Our Oum Correspondent, Uintah Mountains, Utah, April 13,1873. Away up among the pines, now, in the spring time, it is very pleasant; and the noise of the rills, and falling cascades, which have broken from the icy barriers of winter, sing of tho glad, sunshiny days that are to como, and of the warm weather, with its moontain-blossoms and green meadows. Here, beside a fine waterfall, amid the head-streams of tho Bio Colorado, there is • A WOULD or BEAUTY, surrounded by magnificent mountain-scenery, stretching far to the oast and west. These mountains are in Utah, and south of them is a reservation for tho Ota Indians, known as the Uintah Reservation. The minors are already oat prospecting, and certain individuals are looking for a good wagon-road across tho range. I be lieve gold will ho found in the gorges, os well as silver; indeed, some silver-ore, of considerable promise, has already been dug ont along the rocky layers which go toward making up this particular range of the Bocky Mountains. When Ned Q came np from the low-lands, he wore an enormous pair of boots, the legs of which wore perfectly huge. Ho stalked round over reek and fallen tree, but every little while I could see him halt in hia gait. I did not pay branch attention to this, inasmuch as he appeared not to notice it. This morning, however, when he got np, ho rammed his bond down into one of the boots, and, after fishing round there some time, much to my surprise, DUETT OUT A PAIB OP ffiiUPFEBSI “ There, 1 ' said he, ** I thought there waa some thing in my boot; it has been bothering me three or four days. How the devil these snuffers got in there, gets me I 1 ’ I could scarcely repress » smile, Ned looked so grave about it, —hut could not help thinking bow utterly dumfounded peo ple who wear tight shoes and boots would be at the idea of wearing a boot about for several days with a pair of snuffers stowed away in one corner. I quietly said: “ Tour boots are not too tight for you, are they, Nod ?” “No," said he, “they ore plenty big enough, but I didn't bargain to pack snuffers round in 'em any way. I wonder how they could havo got in!’* During the winter, quite a band of UTE UTDIATT3 remain on the reservation, said to number fully 800. They more out in the spring of the year, talcing the trail to Brown's Hole, on Green Biver; thence travel, along the shady slopes of the mountains, to the Mormon settlements in the 'Wasatch range; returning, on the south side of iho uplands, to the reservation, stopping at Brown's Hole again, which is one of their favor ite grounds. There is plenty of wood, water, and grass along this route, and an abundance of game, such os elk, deer, antelope, and bear. The Indiana spend the hunting-season here, in a delightful climato, making occasional visits to tho settlements near the railroad, for the pur pose of trading. They have a rooted antipathy to the Mormons, whom they consider uu inferior tribe of the white people, end never miss an op portunity of stealing os many horses from them os they can. A short time ago, Capt. W. E. Jcnes, of the United States Engineer Corps, led > AS ElPhomSO PAHIY across the Uintahs, for tho purpose of looking out a rood ; examining the extent of the valleys and streams, the character of the timber, the mineral deposits said to exist therein ; and as certaining any other information respecting the country that might bo useful. Daring the holidays, one of those singular encomia sobapes” occurred among our neighbors at Green River City, which a person hardly knows whether it is best to cry over or iangh about. Ono man was killed and four wounded. Ono of the wounded men walked off.and went to the house of a wom an known as “ French Moll.” This French Moll had purchased a flno turkey, which she had put in the stove to roast for her dinner, when along came a young mountaineer, who, for want of better employment, pulled the turkey out of the etove, and commenced kicking it abont tho room. The turkey fairly flow, though dead and half-baked. —the grease and dressing covering everything. while ho was engaged in this interesting and absorbing occupation, tho wounded man opened the door, «ml was not a little surprised to see what was going on.. Bo studied the position of things a moment, and then whipped out his revolver and commenced firing, with each effect ns to wound the turkey-kicker in the forehead and body, ac companying the last shot with the remark: “There, d—nyou, they shot mo, and I’ve shot you; I’m oven!” It will be soon from this that our people are as playful as ever, and that the completion of the railroad across the mountains has not done away with all sense of humor, —the firing all round being considered the moat amusing thing that has occurred in a long time. ' Near the base of the mountains, on the north side, are tho remains of AN OLD 3IORMOX SETTLEMENT, . known as Fort Supply; and here the Mormons formerly raised good crops. Now, the houses are entirely gone, they having been burnt when tho place was abandoned,'at the approach of tho United States soldiers, in the autumn of 1857. Fifteen Mormons were sent out from BaltLake City, about the Ist of May, 1854, to make this settlement, which was as eoon as they could get across tho mountains on account of snow. ■While on the way, a young man who had render ed himself obnoxious to tho Saints was shot down in cold blood. He was crossing a stream on horseback, when ho received a shot, and fell dead in the water. His horse took fright and ran to ; the camp of tho Mormons, which was near by. After the man was killed, very little was said about it, thoparty continuingon its jour ney, and selecting a site near tho. headwaters of Smith’s Fork, where there is a fine alluvial soil, and tho seasons are warm enough to mature crope. This was a considerable settlement at one time, and was the county-seat of Green River County, Utah. The houses were built of cotton wood and pine logs, and were veiy comfortable. Here they had a meeting-house and a court house, and everything woe carried on in a satis factory manner. Here—where all is now lonely and silent—the Latter-Day Saints sang their songs of praise and thanksgiving, and preached them peculiar doctrines tor tho benefit of all con • corned. . , . , Clothed •with the mows of winter, and Been from ft distance, these mountains are A STJBLnnS SPECTACLE. In the bright sunlight, the dirk-blue lines down their sloes are spread with great regulari ty . we see the yawning chasms, deep gorges, titular cones, and ragged, rocky heights which have never bean scaled by man. Below, are im mense pine forests, stretching for ages- and mUea along tho sloping sides, filled with fallen timber and wild bushes. Frequently, in tho autumn-season, the In dians • SET nBE TO THIS TMBEB in mere wantonneaa, -when there is a eonflgra tion indeed. For weeks and weeks, tho lurid flames creep along tho wooded barriers, end clouds of smote completely hide tho summits. An immense deal of timber is annually destroyed in this way. There seems to be no method of ureToating these fires,—tho Indians being an im provident race of men, and, if they have enough fora week’s subsistence, care voiylittle what happens. They glory in seeing the monntain- JjZ lit n p during the dark mghte. and lore to w»vh tho tall pines as they come down crashing tln-ongha sea of sparks, flame, and thick friend of mine met an old mountaineer near here, and asked him how he was getting along: “ Oh!” said he, “tolerably well; leanest what venison I am able to get hold of.” Ho matured why ho did not visit hia friends in Missouri. ••Why,” said the old man, '“I visited them only a little while ago.” *• Hid you ? I had not heard of it.. When was it?” .. ** It was in 1839; I don’t feel like slaying with my relatives ' ALL TUB TESTE ! ” . This is certainly a whimsical view of being neighborly and living off one’s relatives. The old man was honest in his and would scorn even tho thought of making his visits too frequent. . : - This old man was in the great Indian fight at Pierre’s Hole, years ago. and can tell tho differ ent actors on both sides. In those days, the number of people in tho Rocky Mountain region was very limited indeed, and a num could travel weeks and weeks without meeting a white man or an Indian. How,, there are more whites and Indians*; but, even now, a man who lives a hundred miles away is considered a near neigh bor. This is truly tho land of magnificent dis tances ! • On tho plateaux, near the bases of tbs higher peaks, and npon the mountains, ■ TUB PBICSLV-Mia .. • is fonnd. I have soon prickly-poara from Mon tana, near the lisa of the British possessions, down to. the Bio Grande, and all through Mexico. In tho far North, they are small; whereas, down in Texas, near Laredo, they aro gigantic in ap- Eoaranco. The Mexicans break down the heavy nnches, and, after homing off the, sharp thorns as well as they ore able, feed them to tho cattle. Aften, in hot weather, I have cat a piece off one of these pears, and thrown it into a backet of roily water, which it clarified directly. There are many species of cactus in North America; bat the most imposing is that known ns the pet ihaya, or soarra, in Arizona, which rises to the height of 40 feet. In the distance, it looks ska a green dated column covered .with spines. In the latter pari of summer and autumn, It bears a delicious fruit. ‘ i I never could see that tho cactus was of much nse, and bad a hearty langh coco at a poor fel low who, without knowing the nature of prickly pears, SAT DOWH npon a large btmch of them. He rose immedi ately, and a more enrprised indiyidnal I never beheld. He bounced about like a barn-yard, and yoliod so that be might have been heard for three miles. We all thought ho had been hit by a rattlesnake, and it was some time before we canid got him calmed down sufficiently to ex plain what had happened. ' Nod Burleson got bounced off a mule once, head-first into a bunch of prickly-pears; and, between the time he left the saddle and struck among the pears, he yelled ont, “catch that ironE!” Ned’s thoughts were always fixed npon a mule, and on this occasion ho was utterly regardless of self, and intent only upon preventing hia mule from running away. The tnnas, or red pears of the cactna, are pleasant-tasted,—not nnliko the taste of water melon. They are foil of seeds and red pain, and, when nothing better offers, are considered quite palatable. Many a man has had causo to bless them on the arid deserts of the far South west. Another loud of cactus, called THE STBAWBEREY CACTUS, bears a little fruit, somewhat larger than a cher ry, which is delicious. This fruit is rate, but, when fonnd, repays for a long search. On the larger bunches, called by the Spaniards Nopals, the cochineal-insect is often found sticking to the leaves, and snrronndod by on immense web or cocoon. These insects are pushed off with a stick by the natives, and fall npon a cloth which has been spread oat beneath the plant. They ore thrown into hot water and scalded to death, then dried, packed up, and sold aa an article of commerce. Up in these mountains, there are several .nv.*Tmvi;i. LAKES, filled with front. Those lakes are oral in shape, and the sides of the mountains, thickly clothed with dark pines, surround them on every side. There ia a little beach between the water and the pines, which is level, and covered with shale and pebbles. They are of great depth, and the water is as clear and pure as anything can be. In the sunlight, tho dark pines are redacted on the sur face of the water aa in a mirror, and nothing can be more lovely. Here the deer come down to slake their thirst, feeling safe while so doing; the bears also come shuffling in; and long lines of handsome mallard and bine-winged teal-ducks settle upon their placid bosoms. Some of tho Ernes are very large, and their wide-spreading ranches and thick foliage furnish ample shelter for hunters and fishermen. Dry pine-cones and twigs aro gathered in sufficient quantity; a fire is started; and then a mountain-repast is cooked. There is one "ungainly animal that sometimes makes bis appearance, whose room is more ac ceptable than his company. I need hardly say that this animal ia THE GSIZZLT BEAU. There are plenty of them in these mountains, and *• Reuben,” as be is called by the frontiers men, is no coward. I believe a grizzly bear will cat anything! He is by no means fastidious, and will go through a meat-house with as much gusto as through a bee-hive. One was killed near here last fall which hod been regaling him self upon some young pigs belonging to a fron tier settler. The Indiana consider it a great feat to kill a grizzly, and always save the claws, which they put on a string and wear round their necks, as a young belle does her locket. I saw a man offer an Indian $25 for a string of bears’claws that he wore about his neck; nut the offer . WAS INDIGNANTLY DEFUSED,— the Indian averring that he would not take SSO for it. Ho also had a string of elk-teeth, * which aro also heldin high esteem by the rod-men. These are the side-tooth or tusks of.the elk, and there are but two in tho lower jaw. Their rarity ia their only virtue, so far as I can see, aa they are’ dirty, and unsightly, and scarcely worth pulling out of tho bones. Indian finery, at best, is a thing that passes the comprehension of a white man. They have certain kinds of heads that are fash ionable mcortain tribes; colors change In dif* feront localities; and beads that will readily sell in one band cannot bo given away in another.. So, tod, with hawks’ bills, and brass beads, and’ long white porcelain tubes, with which they oi> nameut their hunting-shirts. years ago, some Mexicans from New Mexico ascended the Bio Colorado, and made their way to those mountains. On one of the streams emptying into the Colorado, perhaps the North Fork of tho Uintah, they bnut a stone fort, or house, which, was used by them, for several years. They are supposed to have been on A GOLD-HUNTING EXPEDITION, as it is very certain tho Spaniards ranged over the whole of this region, long end long before it was ever dreamed of by Americans, while searching for gold and., silver. -They owned some good mines, and- occasion ally, nowadays, their old mining shafts are discovered, and their rude works, gone to mlnj are stumbled upon. TheSpaniaroa of New Mexico were so thoroughly mixed up with the Indians that it is even now difficult to tell where one race ends and the other begins. Such a thing os a pure-blooded Castilian in this region is almost unknown; I mean, of course, a person bom and reared in this country. Tho old Span ish explorers were not the most literary people that over lived, and, as a consequence, many of their discoveries have long since been forgotten. Borne Spaniards went among the Indians, where they took unto themselves wives, and lived and died among the aborigines. Their descendants aro, to allmtents and purposes, Indians. PANTHERS are quite common in the mountains, and some times are very dangerous. These animals are also known aa South American lions, cougars, pamas, and catamounts. I have seen them as large as a fall-grown African lioness, and so formidable-looking that two resolute men dared not attack one of them. On© morning, down oa the Mexican frontier, a party of us were starting on horseback,— two hunters and guides being soma distance in front. We saw some wild horses quietly feeding by a.thicket, when suddenly the two hunters halted and raised their rifies. They did not fire, bat from the bashes an enormous lion started out, and quietly trotted off. I had been anxious, to see the hunters fire, bnt, when 1 saw the lion, was very glad indeed they exercised so much dis cretion, for a more formidable-looking- beast I never saw at large. On another occasion, I saw a superb-looking creature trotting along over the plain, keeping along parallel with the road. He did not appear to be at all alarmed, but went on attending to hia own business. From what I have seen. 1 am disposed to think that these an imals ore larger in the South than they are here. They do & groat deal of damage at times; and do not hesitate to attack a man when angry. - Algebra. : Some Bomarkable Clie<is>Playing* The chess dnb at Sheffield, Eng., has been ex cited of late oyer the mental feat of .Mr. Black burns, who fought ten strong players at the same time, and without the sight of either board or men. Mr. Blackbnrne, though only 30 years of Sre. occupies a very distinguished position among nglish chess-players, ana it is a singular fact that he is most successful when the boards ana men are kept from hia view. Sis opponents on thin occasion were seated at tables extending nearly the whole length of the room, while he sat near the flro with his back to the boards, calmly smpking a cigar, and occasionally con- versing with a bystander. Play commenced at 5:30, and was continued until midnight, with an interval of about fifteen minutes’ rest, when the contest had. lasted two hours. At first the audience seemed afraid to, move or speak, lest they should disturb the memory of Mr. Blackburne, hut they were informed by him that ho did not mind a noise, and for the remain* der of the evening the room was anything but auiet. The general result of the contest was tat Mr. Blackburne won six games, drew two. and lost two. The ten players were all members of the club, excepting. Mr. "Whitney, who is the Consular Agent for the United States at Huddersfield, and nw some reputation as a chess-player, being himself able to conduct four simultaneous games blindfolded. Mr. Black bum© was loudly applauded at the close, and in deed several times during the match, and es pecially when he demonstrated the announcer mate in four moves. UTEBABT NOTES. It is said that Miss Braddon receives 310.00 C for her current novel, in the London Hcnne Jbur jictl. ; —“ Lady Anns ”ia the title of Anthony Trol lope’s now novel. ‘ —Santa Anna has been writing a book tins winter on Mexican affairs, which a Boston- firm is to publish. —The Lord Chief Justice of England propo ses to produce a “ summing up.” of the ovidencs on both sides, ia writing; upon tho Junina con troversy. —lt is stated that Max Muller, Fronde, anc Charles Kingsley are all brothors-in-law, having married the three-daughters of a rich Bonder merchant. —Ernest Feydan’s latest production bears the title, “The Art of Fleasing; Studies of Hygiene, Taste, and Toilette; dedicated to the pretty women of all countries of tho world." —Owing to Mr., Cnrtis’ severe illueas, the “Easy Chair” of- Harper's Monthly ia being temporarily filled by Dr. Samuel Osgood. —ii’ho "Pioneer Boy.” a Life of Abraham Lincoln, published by H. B. Fuller,, has recently been translated into modern Greek. —Tancbnitz is to publish the complete dra matic works of the Princess Amalie,, of Saxony, , by order of King John. —Dr. George Schweinfurth, the ■ celebrated traveler, will ohortly bring ont his new work, the result of three years' travel and adventure ia Central Africa. The work will be issued simul taneously in English, French, Hussion, German, and Italian, —Mr. Browning’s poem is in tppo, and con sists of 4,600 lines. It is a poetic version of a great tragedy which came before the law courts, of a department in the North of France lasi Sear, and wo hear that the poet has, in tho out nes of the story, kept closely to the facts, with, the view of presenting to the reader’s mind the key to them in human passion. —Tho forthcoming number of tho Edinburgh Hevieut will contain a memoir of the late Gen. Lee, the Confederate Commander-in-Chisf, from original and other materials, collected by a writer already known from his studies of the cam paigns in Virginia. , —Henry Ward Beecher has nearly completed the second volume of the “ Life of Christ.” Hrs is said to have become heartily tired of his work, .having found it mnch more of a task than he had anticipated. Cynics intimate that he lacks sympathy with his subject. —There is to be soon sold in London a pecu liar Oriental trophy,- a poem entitled the “ Ten • Complete Records, or a Song of Triumph," writ ten by the Chinese Emperor, Kienlnng, on the subjugation of Qhoorkbas. Tho poem is in the Chinese language, embroidered In red silk char acters on a dark blue silk ground of twenty-two leaves or sides. It is said to have been wrought by tho Emproes and ladies of the harem. It was captured at tho sack of the palace at Pekin. Moncnre D. Conway haa dipped into the ad vance sheets of Lord Houghton's now work, not yet out, called “Monographs, Personal and S ocial.” Lord Honghton is supposed to have had, from tho time when he appeared before the world as tho poet Kichard Monckton Milnes tc the present moment, a wider acquaintance with the intellectual celsbritiea of Europe than any other *nsn living. Mr* Conway says that the sketches are seven in number, entitled, Solei man Pasha; Harriet, Lady Ashburton; Walter Savage Landor; tho Bov. Sydney [Smith; Hum boldt at Berlin: The Benya; and the Last Tears of Heinrich Heine. —The New York Tribune says: “ Beaumont and Fletcher may now retire as instances of genina working in double harness. .Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner have written a novel in partnership! It will bo published about the end of the summer, and will be octavo in form, and profusely illustrated. The book deala with the salient features of our American life of to-day; and, as might easily bo divined, ia in tho nature of a satire. It ia known to contain all tho profound philosophy, the sound learning, geological truth which are found in ‘ Innocents Abroad ’ and ‘ Eonghing It,’ and even more of practical wisdom and agricultural suggestion than in ‘My Summer in a Garden.’ It is no holiday work. It deals with every aspect of modem society, and we are authorized to an nounce that tho paper it is written on cost $11." —Lord Lytton was a good hand at a commer cial arrangement. He drove successful bargains with ins publishers. His agreement with Messrs. BouUedge for cheap issnes of his novels was a , profitable thing for him. The firm had the power of bringing out the works in two forms, and in rotnm were to pay him a sum annually. In nineteen years they have paid him as mnch as .£30,000. “Kenelm Chillingly” was not the last work written Dy the author of “ Pelham.” Two others, written at a later date, remain. One ia a novel and the other a play. These will be pub lished after the last page of “The Parisians,” which wiß make four large volumes, has ap peared in Blackicood’s Magazine, —Mr. and Mrs. Lewes are at present favorite subjects of gossip. A correspondent of tho New Tork Tribune writes: “G. H. Lewes is the ugliest men in London, and the most brilliant. Mercurial as a French man, thoroughly Continental in thought and ex pression, he mokes yon forget his face in fifteen minutes, and, at the end of an hour, you pro nounce Him one of the most interesting men you ever mot-. When ho and his wife, • George Eliot,’ lead conversation, their drawing-room becomes the most attractive in London. Mr. and Mrs. Lewes have a pretty house near Begent’s Park, and receiving every Sunday, collect around them tho cleverest of men and women. - Nothing can exceed- the retiring manner of ‘George-Eliot. 1 whoso voice is soft and low. : . She cannot bear . any reference to' her own writings, and, though . her friends long to express their gratitude, they never dare outwardly to hint at inward emotion. Composition is no easy task to * George Eliot.’ She labors unceasingly to produce her resnlte.” —Henry Ward Beecher is after Sunday-school literature. Ha says: “Bat now it ia with chil dren that tho Snnday-echool library has opened nnon them a flood, or rather a swarm, that can he compared to little else than the locusts, ths lice, and the frogs, often, of Egypt. An'teunenss amount of wishy-washy stuff, and yet wrought together with a certain sort of fictitious and un wholesome interest, aa I think, and children art reading all sorts of religious books. ‘Aunt Nancy’ writes them, and ‘Paul’ writes them, and everybody is writing Snnday-echool books. The most difficult book in the world to write Is a book for a child, yet it is a book everybook thinks he can begin on; and some are in danger of be ing carried away by what might bo called the ‘swiU of the house of God.’” —A letter from London to the New Tork Trib une says: “ Mr. John Elderkln, who has spent some time in London to arrange lectures for the American Literary Bureau, goes home next week. He has concluded an arrangement with Mr. Wilkie Collins, and Mr. Collins will sail for America in August, under engagement for a long cedes of lectures. Mr. Elderirin has come to terms with a celebrity of a very different kind. Mr. Charles Bradlangh,, editor of the Motional ■ Heformer and lecturer on religious and polit ical subjects. , “ A conditional arrangement was made by Mr. Elderkin, also with Mr. Charles Beads, who has been more than once invited to make a lecturing tour in tho United States, -bnt has hitherto re fused. He does not care to make Uio voyage un less the inducements offered be very strong. ■ - You' Americans,* ho remarked to Mr. Eloerkm, 1 can never understand that a man at my time of Ule/comfortably settled in London, and vntit, plenty to do, should not be longing to cross the Atlantic and visit'an unknown country. But . the offer stands open for him to accept, and there ia a chance that Mr. Beado may go next year, if not this. Mr. Spurgeon, among others, was asked, but has declined positively, and m a way as characteristic of him as it is creditable to his disinterestedness. _By Mr. Elderkin'a permission, I quote what Mr. Spur geon says • ‘I am not open,’ writes the popular preacher, ‘to an offer for lecturing, neither is ft my profession. I appreciate the liberal nature ol your offer, and It is not declined with any reference to amount. One hundred times ths sum would not tempt me to lecture for money, as Ido not feci it to be my vocation.’ Nor is Mr. Elderkln tho only agent who has pitched upon England as a good hunting-ground. Mr. Bedpath, of Boston, arrived in London this week, and is already on the trail of three or font Britishers.' With characteristic moderation, ne will leave them their scalps, provided he can have their bodies and brains at his service. Ha wants Prof. Huxley, and Mr. Hughes, and onr Anglo-American friend, Mr. Conway, and I know' not whom else in England, hot certainly M- Louis Blanc from France.” 7

Other pages from this issue: