Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, May 25, 1873, Page 7

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated May 25, 1873 Page 7
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the JUBILEE BALL; tjfos Chamber of Commerce as the • Scene of the PestivaL : : Hoiv the Argot of the Board Will Adapt Itself to the Occasion. arrangements that Should Be . Made. by. the Managers—How, tho Pleasure of the Participants Can Be largely Enhanced. Bins, in their variety, probably afford more, imafement to all classes of people than-.any other species of entertainment: There seems to to a fascination in dancing.; and; -while'the, poetry of motion may bfi iSassified .in tiie snjnis. tir as .that of language and idea, the former.adi. Bits of more universal participation. > .Still; THEM ABE BALLS ASB BALLS." Host of these are stigmatized by Madame Haut toa and her daughters as vulgar and objection «ble,- and, in older cities than Chicago, when tome grand charity is on the tapis, and the scene is an'opera-house, eh© Bits in stately magniff tence, flanhod by Uei beautiful (laughters,, with JCaU me tangere written in every line of face. and figure, and wonders how people can dance in' a public placet ‘ - ", The only , exception to, this rule is when k SCIOH OF KOVALTV is to be feted, and as, in this democratic country,* where Congressmen do thrive, and Senators, evenYice-Presidents, are not always indubitably ianspeur et sans reproche, Mrs. Shoddy or Mo bilier may get-a ticket of admission, she ii obliged to. put up. with the “dust of vulgar feet,*’ at such a time at least. ’Her old ed Point de Venise and jeweled heirlooms - may be outshone by the recent purchases of some Tammany attache; but she must even suV mit, or allow wandering Princes, Dukes, vitehes, and Mikados to think that there is no real aristocracy here. So she frowns at the nouveau riche, and smiles sweetly on the inof fensive and inquiring youth of royal lineage, without regard to his climatic possessions or his complexion, and is a martyr in a noble cause. As for her own entertainments, if Haut-ton lire can foot the little bills, Gimbredo receives orders to engrave cards for a •” BAL-DANSANTE AT DELSIONICO’b, it which the German and minuet-de-la-coor ard played by celebrated bands, 'two at least, con cealed by screens of odorous blossoms. Madame isd her daughters dress at home, and drive down there tojreceivo their guests. Ths supper is prepared by the prince of caterers; and, when the last guest has gone, Madame returns to her own quiet, elegant house, which has not been upset by the rout, and sleeps the sleep of peace, as one.who has done her duty to society with the greatest amount of eclat and the least possible discomfort to herself; while papa puts off any thought 'of the little »bill until it is absolutely necessary to recognize his liability. That there are occasional exceptions to this role is true, as it is of all other things, and es pecially is it eo Whether the heated term, in relaxing the sys tem, also melts one’s dignity, and produces a certain fusion of opposing elements, . is a gues •tion that might prove a fruitful one for suburb an debating societies, who generally discuss subjects that they know the least about. At all events, hops'at Kewport and Saratoga are quite possible to Madame Haut-ton aud her daughters, even if-Mrs. Tammany and Mobilier, being able to pay their $5 a day t fee Hie waiters, and write foreign names on a little card at breakfast and dinner, axe also present. It is here that Chica go, rising in her youthful might and power, has the advantage over older cities. Leading the season,, as. she expects, to-do, with a hall that shall he unexceptionable in every item, she is Sure, - from the..elements from which she pur posesto effect this grand result, that it will be not only a social, bat- A NATIONAL SUCCESS. There is perhaps less in this city than in any Other of that sprit which is said to obtain in certain ' New England towns, in which “ The woman who takes in washing win not associate with the woman who goes out-washing.” While a ceptain inexplicable something defines social limits, the fair dame of Chicago feels that she may hail with eagerness such balls as are given here, especially such a one as is at present under consideration, without derogating from her position, or losing her inherent dignify. To this she may welcome whom she pleases, whether foreign potentate or one whom she wishes to hohor among her countrymen, with the assur ance that neither Madame Hant-ton’s private bai-dansante at Delmonico's, nor the grand hop of the season at any of the renowned watering places, shall eclipse it in elegance. That it is to be given m THE CHAIEBE3 OF COMMEIICE, is a pleasant fact; but it is rather fanny to think what a very different sort of financial transaction will be represented on that night. The supper will be served in the Open-Board room; and hero, no doubt, the bolls and beara will modify their bovine and ursine natures to a degree fitting the gentle society that shall make of their dusty mart a sacred place, though Tenus, Bacchus, and Terpsichore be the deities they worship. One can imagine them emulating the hard-handed men of Athena, and “ roaring you softly, as a sucking dove.” 'While, in the mazy evolutions of the waltz, will have a chance to indulge their natural pro pensities, still they must not be too bearish, in their embrace, but hug gently and discreet ly, and with an eye to the proprieties. As for THE BULL?, we can only recommend that they should so whitewash themselves as to represent that snow white animal who mingled with the herds of Agenor, and, hiding in that spirited and beauti ful form the matchless Jupiter himself, won the fair Europa and eloped with her to Crete. This for the young cubs and calves who may seek the favor of some fair goddess. As for the older animals, *re suppose it will require a certain amount of restraint to make them forget their acquired shibboleth; but for this *ll events, it should _hayp accorded even here. *&ectamor of bids will give way to a r COHCOBD OF SWEET SOUNDS, and torn aeropha*« will take the place of smash ed hats, wbijf IXI6 German, or evolutions of like -Verorf-f will usurp the cheerful and exhilarat . -Aerdse of leap-frog. Taurus will be too iusy fiaying court to Europa to amuse himself JJ- Pkefrg hot gravel-stones inside the &*dt Oa Ursal Minor’s shirt-collar, that . may thence meander slowly and jjnpleasaatly to his boot-heels, to* S? r ? mo T e< * thence with effective remarks; ine fractional value of stocks will probably not rf "Owled or shrieked, —the only stock upon the market that night being -quoted - IK BOUND HGUBES. .j.v ome tt may b© disposed of for cash, J?Jf. 9 1 ® re fTQlar way, is quite possible, as matri monial ventures are apt to have a mercantile if, like certain stocks, they are apt to fluctuate. All the more chance for specula tion, and it is not supposable that, of these gen uemazL one can say with Macbeth, when he ad- St? 6 ® v of the murderedßanquo, c.i . no speculation in' those eves.” speculation in the eye and on- the lip is their normal condition. No doubt manv a young man jmaginea he has a 44 point,” and that it is a 44 sure comers,” if judiciously screened, Sf v to a sentimental shade, uTj* ■ - “Serfy sought after. The terms, or “ seller three,” mcan jng three weeks or months, not days, however, JJfllnot be out of place, though, of course, in this case, it must be seller’s,” not li buyer’s : option. Ursa or Taurus may—indeed, must— orgea speedy delivery of the stock at as early a aay as possible, hut it remains with Mamma. to iftinj ber seller’s option, and only to hand over property when she secs fit to do so. She a,-* 1 do some li ballooning,” and in this *V 518 Perfectly commendable. What dowager 10 present her stock in the most *?r?i - * But it might not .be wise to it too long, as, unlike otner speculative property, it is not apt to advance m value - it T>_. „ If L KEIT . TOO LONG OK HAST). u calls n may also be in order for * lO are interested. in the movements tJi eir enough has been written that the whole argot of the brokera* . »PPBcable to an ultra-fashlonahle •v 1 •“ ■ exception that, in some cases, wwy are not optional with both parties.' it is quite certain, however, that, all things ‘considered, 310/ better' place' could have been selected than the Chamber of Commerce for the ball. -It depends only upon the managers to have it a perfect success, and the leading ball of the season be unsurpassed byany thafshall fol low it. To prevent crowding,.. : . ' CABBIAOES should bo obliged io drive -up in one direction ana away in tho other, both in leaving their oc cupants and in returning for them. A published notice to this effect, thoroughly understood, and enforced by proper police authority, -will prevent toy crowding or delay* which, la so annoying, 'and sometimes disturbs due’s b<inauyhity for an feutirtv evening.. How dreadful if 'Adolphus should enter with an -anathema.onhifi lips, or. BorapMna with a frown' on'her brow, because there had been a snarl -of earriages, a vitupera tion of drivers,-and a .general condition of dis cord! ThotrV ‘ . * DBESSIKG-BOOJIS FOB LADIES' fihonld- be ample. .Tho-present , voluminous .toilettes roquire.abundant space to shako' .out and arrange in proper sinuous, serpentine, arid enchanting, linos.,• Plenty.oft. attendants there should,bo,*—armed with sowing implements} to overcome any serious damage produced by the paw of a dancing bear or the hoof of a pirouettc jngbull,;C»r.the antics of any other masculine animal that may perform at this elegant. enter tainment! - * - ■\* i; ; ‘ ? :-. ■ ; TOILETTE-ARTICLES -are generally brought by, the, lair dames thcm selvesl At the last ball we attended in the -character of “A chiel’a among ye takin’ notes,” we saw a lady take her. hair-powder from her pocket and request her attendant to pepper her head with it, which he did in a sufficiently awk ward manner to cover her entire face as .well as liair. She, however, with great care removed it ■ from her skin with her dainty mouchoir, being yery oaroful not to nib too hard. Two others exchanged face-powder,. remarking, for the ben efit of lookers-on; that “ One was obliged to do such things whan dancing; though they never— no, never—thought of doing . so at any other time.” Did the audience believe ? -We are afraid this is a very incredulous age, full of ■shams, and self-deceptions, and deluding of friends and strangers. Why, if a person wishes to use powder to cool a heated skin, is it neces sary to act as if she was. committing an unpar donable sin? And yet each feminine does, though the use of cosmetics has been a matter bf course in all ages and countries, among the fashionable mid beautiful women of the world; UPON THE IXOOn-3IANAQEB3 will devolve much of the onus of making the ball a success. There should .bo no wall-dowers allowed; but.when, with their übiquitous vis ibly they discover a lady sitting out, it should be their-business to find her escort, and ascertain whether it is a .matter of choico that she docs so, or perhaps because she is a stronger. Let them look to this, and not consider that their whole dixcy is fulfilled when they have assigned places to those who may have risen to join the donee.. Being gentlemen, graced with a sort of cordon cT honneur in the badge of office which they wear, they ought to have the privilege of ad dressing any lady j ; . WITHOUT THE CEBEMONT of a special introduction, and thus ascertaining personally her wishes in regard to joining tho dancers, and by. this moans arrive at a speedy knowledge of who her escort is, and through him being able to eorire her. Not infra- Suently a young lady, passionately fond of aucingr,—for with many it is a passion,—has hod her entire evening spoiled, through neglect con sequent upon being a stranger, or in the fact that her escort is one. 1 .et the Chivalry of Chi cago lock to this, and see that no such contre temps happens at her grand festival on the 6th of June/ . There should also be an abundance of some cootoo drink in an adjoining ante-room, or iced sherbet, to 'which the dancers could have access. If it over does come warm, it will probably make up in in tensity of heat for all the coldness with which we have been victimized throughout the so-called spring, and it is probable that, by the time the ball takes ’place, we shall realize that fact,. The necessity of refreshment for | .the dan cere must be patent to any one,—for. even in the coldest such exercise is apt to develop a certain aznount-of thirst. We nave known gentlemen quite unable to resist its clamors for appeasing liquids, which, however, were not always, when obtained, of tbo most cooling kind. Let: the managers make a note of this, and add to the comfort of their guests by thus aifordinga meansof refreshment which wIU be a little thing in itself, but will add immensely to the comfort of all who participate in the affair. I AS FOB THE SUPTEB, that, no doubt, will be a feast and flow ; but how much reason or soul there will be in it, one can hardly conjecture. Beasonable eating, however, is. a good thing, and soul aud spirit haVe been received as synonymous terms. - Therefore, with every expectation that the Jubilee Ball / ; . . i WILL FAB EXCEED . " anything of the kind ever before attempted in this country, we hope that all may enjoy it to the utmost of their anticipations, and arc morally sure thsi it must bo an immense success. ' Ulningr with Victor Emanucli - Anne Brewster writes from Borne to the Phil' adelphia 'BuUeiin : “,Tbe King’s official dinner came off onSun day! and his Majesty has gone to Naples, very glad to be through with these ceremonious feasts, which are especially disagreeable to him. The royal dinners are. very fine, but they are served in the most vapid manner, and it is said the Quests are apt to dine at homo previous to going. * Hih majesty never eata a mouthful at them. He sits with his hand on his sabre hilt, sometimes in moody, bored silence, sometimes talking to the person most - agreeable to him. Hie niece and daughter-in-law, the Princess Marguerite, is always at bis right hand, and very devoted to him. As bis Majesty is fond of her, and as she is gay, chatty, and attractive in man ner .and person, she serves as one untiring re source for him during the fastidious feasts. On Sunday evening Prince Arthur of England was oh the left of the King, and did his best to amuse bis royal host. Victor Emanuel baa what are called “ simple tastes ” in eating—to my digestion they would bo very complicated. Wild boar and brocoli, equivalent to com-bcef and cabbage, these arc his Majesty’s favorite dishes. He oats sporting food at hunters’ hours, at day dawn and midday. Therefore, a 7 o’clock even ing dinner, with a French menu with Potaga coulis do perdreaux a I’Begence, .Becasses a la gesronome, &c., is nonsense and “great trash” to him. These are the reasons given for the King’s fasting while his guests are feastinsr—ror T7in Majesty makes no secret of his »bstinence ; he dobs not even pretend to ea*» c° sip win©, nor play with bread crumbs. Very likely, these rea sons may be the true ones in part, but there is a more potent one, not give^.f^ 1 * ojd rule in the ancient Savoy rwri established that its Kings mnf‘ --ver break tiroacyn public. An ancient’ *'* jUmont saying is; “No subject can Pope or Savoy sovereign.” Constitu tional King as is Victor Emanuel, there never was a more thoroughbred aristocrat at heart: no monarch ever stood more firmly by the laws and traditions of his line and; race. As * 1 Shylock, ” his Majesty will buy, sell, talk, walk, and so fol lowing with his dear people, but not eat with them. Drink and pray with them, however, it appears he does not object to. , t Xlie Wonders of tlio Grave* The tomb of Edward tho First, who died in 1307, was opened Jan. 2, 1770, after 463 years had ; elapsed. His body was almost perfect. Canute (the Dane), who crossed over to England in'lol7, was found in 1776 by the workmen who repaired 'Winchester Cathedral, where his body had. reposed nearly 750 years, perfectly fresh.' In 1569, :ihree Eoman soldiers, fully equipped with warlike implements, wore dug out of a bed of peat in Ireland, where they had lain probably 1,500 years. Iheir bodies were perfectly fresh and plump. In the fsign of James n. of England, after the fall of the church at Astley, in Warwickshire, there was taken up the corpse of Thomas Gray, Marquis of Dorset, who was buried there the 10th of October, 1530, in tho twenty-second year of Henry OT.; • and although it had lain there seventy-eight years, the eyes, hair, flesh, nails, and Joints remained as though it had been but newly buried. Eobert Braybrook, who was consecrated Bishop of London in 1381, and who died in 1404 and was buried in St. Paul’s, was taken out of his tomb alter the great fire iri 1666, during the re pairs of the cathedral, and although be had lain there no less than 262 years, his body was found firm as to skin, hair, joints, and nails. Pietro Eodriguez, a Portuguese jeweler, while pursuing his occupation in the City of Mexico, was, in 1595, accused before the tribunal of the inquisition, and, after suffering a variety of tor tures, was condemned to be buried alive in a vault in the Convent ds St. Domingo, in that city. He was then 38 years old. Tne'Convent dc St. Domingo was lately demolished in search of treasure snppoeed to be concealed there, and the body of Bodriguez taken but of the vault exactly as when placed there 270 years before. His daughter, 2jff years of age, was lying under her father’s feet, and as perfectly preserved as himself. The evidences of torture on the body of the jeweler ore fearfully apparent. Marks of the com and of the burning iron are deeply re corded on various parts of his body. His hair and beard are firm, his skin natural in hue and texture, without the least trace of decomposition in any part. - THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1573 ENGLISH SERVANTS. ' From AjpUton'o Werily. ' The scale of living among the vrealthior clrbsob in England to-day is quite as lavish and infinite ly more ’comfortable than at any previous period ic fact, the combination of splendor and com-, fort which it presents has probably, never before, been known, in the . world’s history. It could scarcely bo com passed with any amount of wealth hart, depending, as it in a great degree’ does, upon the peculiar financial, add social cons dition of the different classes which compose the English community. ■ ' The great noblesse, and indeed many wealthy commoners, maintain establishments nearly as largo as those of their feudal forefathers. Many keep a hundred servants in aud about the house. ' Hero is a list of . what would be found in the household of a wealthy.pcer of tho higheatcljss j of fortune i Per' pearl QUO 8ut1er,;....,...; 750 TTndcr-^mtlcr.:r.; * 250 Groom of tho chambers... SCO TVo may remark, par parenUiesc, that the prin cipal. dritics.of.thia last/fanctionary ard to see that the requisite biting-materials arc in all the sitting and bed-rooms, and, where there are fifty rooms and a constant flow of visitors, this really gives him something to do; but, taking tho year through, his duties are by no moons overwhelm ing, for, in London, they are principally confined to seeing that his mistress is well supplied with visiting-cards, and waiting at dinner. - • To'resume the list; l - . r- , • Per year. My lord’a va1cC.V.......... . .'..1.'1.'. .*..;... S3OO Three footmen, each. J 250 and their livery, and allowance for powder for • their hair. - -■■■*'•-• Hall-porter.... ....1...:.................;....... 150 Usher of the ha 11....... * 125 This is a domestic only found in very large es tablishments ; his special avocation is to attend to the servants* hall, and keep it in proper order, and ho rarely appears above-stairs -unless the whole force 'of the establishment is needed, when he files into lino with the footmen. Pin ally, there is the stoward’a-rocm boy, who is a general “scrub,” and waits on ‘‘the room,” as the house-keeper's room is termed p&f excel lence. “The room” is an institution peculiar to Groat Britain; The etiquette observed there, os in all departments of English “high-life below «rtairs,”is truly terriftic. ■ Only a very limited number of a household enjoy the privilege of the entree to this 'exclu sive retreat; These are the steward, the butler, ’ and any other servants who don't wear livery, and. among the feminine portion of the household, the house-keeper and ladies’maids. Where there is a man-cook, he also partakes of this paradise. - ,“Tbo room” is a snug parlor, neatly car peted and warmly curtained. 1 An old-fash ioned, spacious, chintz-covered sofa, au arm chair or two, and a r number of cane-bottomed ditto, comprise tho‘ furniture. The walls aro hung with prints from , family portraits, such as the Buko, when Marquis of Steyne, in the midst of the Steyne hunt, with huntsmen and hounds around him—the late Duchess, from the portrait of Sir-Thomas Lawrence. Much of the wall is covered by presses well filled with linen and preserves. Ob, that apricot-jam of oar youth! A very cheery retreat is “the room” on a winters’ evening. Enter tired, after hunting, about S o’clock, and tell Mrs. Bouucewell—you ore, of course, an habitue of tno castle—that you have come to bog for a cup of her delicious tea, aud you’ll get such a brow, with such cream and such buttered toast—all buttered toast ou this side of the At lantic is a mere mockery of it—as you won’t for get in a hurry; and - Mrs. Bouncowell will put you in her easy chair, and, when she has made you thoroughly comfortable, will begin to talk about “the family,” whoso history she has at her fingere’-omlfl, and tho old lady’s reminis cences are eo entertaining that you stay chatting and listening until tho dressing-bell rings,* and you burry up to toko off your dirty shooting-gear and get ready for dinner. Dressing for dinner is little trouble, for, oven if you’ve no servant of your.own. all is arranged for you. A* glorious fire is. blazing at the grate. A sofa is wheeled round to tho fire, on which a careful hand has arranged all you cab require for your ovening'toilet; a huge easy chair, on whoso back reclines your dressing-gown, is be side it; wax-candles gleam before the. ample mirror; and a big pitcher of Menton’s prettiest ware steams at the wash-hand stand. f Your let ters, which have arrived by the eyomng’e post, are laid out on the table. Tho womeu-servanto are far more numerous than tho men: . Housekeeper. Ladica-maida - (besides perquisites in t dress) 150 Cook, if a man ............... 500. If a woman . 350 Still-room maid 100 Nurses varying fr0m................. S 50 to 200, Three house-maids. 100 to 150 Three laundry maids 75 to 200 Two kitchen-maids 75 to 100 Scullery-maid'.*;."...... 50 to 75 TVrodairy-maids..... 75 to 100 And one or two nondescript ' l hangers-on,” ser vants 1 servants, in fact, v/ho too often do more than half the work. “ . ; Those ’angers-on, be it observed are of both sexes, and it requires much vigilance to prevent the number of “ odd ” men and u odd”' women about largo places increasing. In Ireland it is almost impossible. The organization and proper management of these very large households aro not only a great expense, but often entail great trouble. “Then why have them?” may asked. -' 1 : : The answer is, that they are part and parcel of the prevailing structure of the hereditary system and “ high life ”in England t ■ For instance, through the length and bredth of the land there is scarcely to be found a man of simpler tastes and habits' than Lord Derby.but he has been bom to a famous ti tle, and a million of dollars a year, and noblesse obliges him to maintain an establishment com mensurate therewith. Again, the hospitable customs of great houses entail it. People may have little for their servants to do at one time, but a great deal at another. There are a few households whore the mon servants are so numerous that some of them never have to wait unless there are more than sixteen sitting down to their master’s table. Then, again, for a few weeks, the house will be crammed with company, twenty-two or twenty six sitting down to dinner every night, and the whole establishment will really work hard. It must also be remembered that, to have everything &B perfectly done as it is done in first rate establishments, requires a largo staff. First-rate English men-servants never rush about, bang doors, knock over china, or commit the various other unpleasant eccentricities which we suffer at the hands of our Hibernian waiters in this country; and one reason is, that they, are never hurried. There is in their work, as in everything else in England, immense division of labor, and each man becomes perfect in his al lotted task. See that young footman with a hot plate in his hand, which is burning a hole in his finger; he will hand it properly, nevertheless* .The stem eye of his genoral-in-chlof ; the butler, is upon him, and ho dares not drop it, as onr own Patrick would do, with .a howl. . The fall of a plate would disturb the repose of dinner. My lord’s digestion would suitor, my lady would be agitated, and Bay ward, the great 44 diner-out,” would remark, at the next house he wont to' stay in. that the dinner was very badly managed at Kr.badub Castle, and the foot* men knocked the plates about. . One'sometimes very exasperating effect of this division of labor is, that servants will die rather thandoany work wind* they consider does not belong to them. Ask a butler to lay the school-room cloth, and tears of indignation will well up into that fane* tiou&ry's eyes. Tell the footman to wash the door-steps, and he will givs warning on the spot, with a voice choking with silent rage. And hero is a reason why so few good English men-servants like to come to the United States. Many people expect of them ser vices which they- would never bo expected to perform at home, often what they consider women’s work —washing down stoops, cleaning* parlors, and such-like. This is what they will, not do; bat, humor them a little, and they are, inmost respects, the best servants in tho world, although wanting in tho power of readily adapt ing themselves to new circumstances. Of coarse, tho establishment wo have been describing is one of the very largest. There are probably about 200 on such a scale. But there, are many more nearly as large. Tho usual number of in-door men-servants in an affluent household is four, with about ten women-eervants, but the number of. the latter varies very much according to the number of ladles in a family.: About twelve years ago several proprietors of very large households awoke. to the conviction that they were being ruthlessly plundered, and forthwith instituted a rigid reform. One wealthy Duke went so far as to enter into a contract with his major-domo to supply him with everything at a fixed price, and tho story -goes that, when flome.ono was.stayingat D- —n Castle, in the Highlands, ho uCs astonished, on calling for soda-water one night, to icafrf that none -was to., be - had.:.' lie was, subse qneqtly- informed by. his own : valet,. r who made private inquiries down-stairs, * that it ** had been accidentally omitted from the con tract.” 'One of the most notoriously badly-managed houses was that of the late Duke of Devonshire, sou of tho celebrated Georgi&na, commemorated byHacftiilaV* ' Once a gentleman who ttrls claying at Chata .worth, the.Dnko’a princely seat in Derbyshire, observed the shameful ncgligcnco.of .the domes tics toVrEvd .fefe*aiigerij; thought it right to mention th&subject lblua host: v»• .. . jTho. Duka heard. him out,. and, when hid friend had ‘concluded, said,—in a voice which seemed to Imply, ‘MVhat -cm I to do?" “ Just like ’em, just like ’embut there the matter ended. ■ Toward the end of his life ho had a gentleman of good birth and position to reside with him andmacogoohis establishment;: but, notwith standing. the butler somehow- contrived to pecu late td IhO Amount of §7,500 \ " Of.7cbtirßO.-in. thobo* vory-dargo houses, the 'owners are obligedto trust very much, to upper servant". If’ they . are . reliable (dad; when carefully selected,’ they-generally are so}, all gtfds, propqrly; but, if 4 they are not, there ,is generally much which is ve ry wrong going oh; .dt is in smaller establishments that (bej most thorough order,; regularity, and comfort. Are to be found—houses where from eight to fourteen servants are kept. ..Hero’ the mistress of tho mansion personally superintends nil, knows the history .of each domestic, and, takes ; an interest in them. . . : There is no happier, better-ordered, more re fined, and more thoroughly comfortable home than that of the English country-gentleman dwelling oh paternal acres, from which ho de rives from $20,000 to $50,000 a year. I “Wo have hitherto been considering only in door servants; The stable establishment Is often very .expensive; , Sometimes; in the case 6t hunting-stables, as many as fifteen men qrq kept; The expenses of a pack of hounds are esti mated altogether at 315,000 a year, but very few' persons pay exclusively for a pack. They are usually more or less maintained by subscription. Then, again, gardens take a largo sum,'and in many places from., four to twelve parsons' are employed in this way. Servants in gentlemen’s houses almost always como from tho peasant class, and in tho fujst in stance got a place through the clergyman's or. squire's wife: . - . . The dream of the London butler is a snag lodging-house - in tho region of tho clubs in Loudon. In fact:)- Buggies, in “Vanity Fair.” very faithfully illustrates their notions in this re spect. All about the district called u Club-land” in London may be found numbers of Buggies' kind and very snug and comfortable they make you. Take a lodging In Park Place, St; James, for instance,: give a little dinner, and you will dad all done as nicely as the most fastidious taste can require, and presently you will discover that your landlord, who waited so admirably was the Marquis of C&rabas' “ own man,” and that those cutlets which your critical guest pro nounced “ undeniable ” were by the band of your landlady, to whom the superlative dinners at Corabos Castle owed their reputation. THE ORIGIN OF PHILOPENA. There was once a beautiful Princess who bad a great fondness for almonds, and ate them con- stantly, but nothing would induce her to marry, and in order to rid herself of her suitors, of whom there were a great number,'she invented the following .device: To every Prince who sought her hand, she presented the half of a double almond, while she ate tho other half, and said: “If your lordship con succeed in getting me to tako anything from your hand before I say the word *X remember,* then I am ready to become your bride. But if, on the contrary, you receive anything from me, without thinking to speak these words, then you must agree to have your hair shaved entirely off your bead and leave, the kingdom.” . . This, however, was an artful stratagem, for, according to the court* custom, , no "one dare to. hand anything directly to the Princess, but first to the court lady, who then offered it to her. But if, on the other hand, tho Princess should desire to give or takeanything—who could re fuse hor? was useless for her, suitors to make the trial, for when they seemed likely to bo successful, and had diverted Hie Princess so that she was about to take something from them, tho court-lady, always stepped between, and spoiled the best-laid plan. ; ~ Vtfien tho Princess wished to dispose of one of them, she would appear so charming and en couraging to him, that he would be entirely fascinated, and when ho sat at her feet, over come with joy, then she would seize upon any thing near her, as though by accident: “Take this as a remembrance of mo,” and when he had it in his hands, before he could think or speak

tho necessary words, there would spring out at him, from it, perhaps a frog or a hornet, ora hat, and so startle him that he would forget the words. Then, upon the spot, he was shaven, and away with him. This went on for some years, and in all the palaces of the other king doms tho Princes wore wigs. Thus it came to be tho custom “from that time. . Finally it happened that a foreign Prince came upon some peculiar business, and by accident saw. the almond Princess. He thought her very -beautiful, and at once perceived tho stratagem. A friendly little gray man had given apple that once a year he was privileged to. smell; and then there came in his mind a very wise idea, and he had become much renowned on account of hia deep wisdom. Now, it was -exactly timo for him to make use of his apple; So, with the scent from it came this warning: “If thou wouldst win in tho gome of giving and taking, under no circumstances moat thou ■either give or take anything.” Bo ho had his hands bound in hia belt, and went with his marshal to tho palace, and asked to be allowed to eat bis almond. The Princess was Per Year . S3OO secretly mach pleased with him, and immediately, banded him an almond, which his marshal took and placed in his mouth. * The Princess inquired what this, meant; and, moreover, why .he con stantly carried his hands in his girdle. Ho replied that at bis court the custom was even more strongly enforced than at hers, and he dared not give or take anything with his hands, at the most, only with his head and feet. Then the Princess laughed and said:— “ In this case wo will never bo- able to have our little game together.” •Ho sighed and answered: ’ “Not unlees.youjwiU be pleased to take some thing from my boots.” “That can never happen!” exclaimed the whole court. .“Why have you come hither,” asked the Princess angrily, “when you have such stupid ■customs?” • *• Because you are so beautiful,” replied the Prince. “And if I cannot win you, I may at least have the pleasure of seeing yon.” “ On the other hand, I have no similar gratifi cation,” said she. * So the Prince remained at the palace, and he pleased her more and more, but when thohumor seized her, she tried in everymannoxtopersuade him to take his hands from the girdle, and re ceive something from her. She also entertained him charmingly, and .frequently-offered him flowers, bonbons,'and trinkets, and finally her bracelet, bnfcnot once did -ho forget and stretch out his hand to tako them, for the pressure of the girdle reminded him in time. So. ho would nod to his marshal, andhe received them,' saying. “ We remember.” Then the Princess would become impatient, and would exclaim; '* My handkerchief has' fallen 1 Can your lordship pick it up for me ?” Whereupon the Prince would fasten his spur into it, and wave it carelessly, while the Princess would have to bend and remove it from his foot, angrily saying: “I remember.” • Thus a year passed awav, and the Princess said to herself: : “ This cannot remain so. It must bo settled in'one way or the other.” - She said to the Prince: , I have one of the finest gardens in the world. I will show your lordship over it, to-day.” The Prince smelt of his apple, and as they en tered the garden, ho said ‘•'lt is veiy beautifulheroy and In order that we may walk near each other in peace, and not be disturbed by the desire to try our game, I beg you, my lady, that, for this one hour, you will take upon you the custom of my court, and let your hands also be fastened. Then we will bo safe from each other’s art, and there will be nothing to annoy us.” - The Princess did not feel very safeabout this arrangement, but he begged so strongly that she could not refuse him this, small favor. So they went on alone together, with their hands fastened in their girdles. -The birds sang, the sun shone warmly, and from the trees, the red cherries hung so low that they 'brushed their cheeks as they passed. The Princess saw them and ex claimed •*- • : ■ * . “ What a pity that your lordship is not able to pick a few for me!” a Kecosaity knows no;law,” said the Prince. and he broke one of the cherries with his teeth from a branch, and offered it to the -Princess from his mouth. . r ThcJ-Prlncesa could not do otherwise than re-, ceivo it from hhj mouth,, and so her face was brought close to his; So when sho had the cherry between her lips,. and a Mbs from him besides,. she was not able to say that irisfertt; ‘ * I - remember.” ' . . •Then ho Cried, joyfully, “Good morning, much loved one,” and drew his hands from hia girdle and embraced her. And they spent the rest of their lives together in perfect- peace and' quietness.— From, ine German of Guzlav Frcy~ tag. DANBURY-NEWSISM. .Something About tlic 52;miorist Ifllnt* ac’fj and d i'ow of Hlmjlatvst Frodnc tlonw. .Correspondence of Vit Boston iraivseript: Danbury is a thriving, manufacturing town Cf about 8,000 inhabitants, largely given over to the.appreciation .of jokes and tho manufacture of lia:s. Wo believe it has been engaged in hat manufacture einoe—well, since it was destroyed' by the British in 1777. ■'*! * Early evening found us creeping up a dark stairway to the composing and printing office of the Kvws: In one largo room are the £Asqs and presses, ana recced off by itself ini one corner is the 7xll plain-kleal-board Sanctum, inf which we found thd editor opening his mail. Coming along in tho cars to Danbury, tro had,- hr dor idleness, wondered if any of our fellow-: travelers wdrO fhe editor. A gentleman care folly dressed and adorited with ejicctaclcs was finally selected as tho possible htanoriat. Wo had made up our mind to a middle-aged man iff broadcloth and spectacles, and now wo found a f nil-freed young man dressed in coarse clothes, With scrupulous)/ white linen and no necktio.. It may interest our lady-Yeaders to know that Hr: Bailey is remarkably fine looking j ho is eyen-featurcd, with black flowing' hair and deaf dark complexion, * and has arr oyo that shows that, like John Gilpin, u ho has t pleasant wit.” ‘As regards other personal matters, they are well epitomized in tho following answer to a cor respondent, lately published in the JVeics : , Ifolbrcci, Jfass. The editor of this paper does not lecture: he ie.married; -Mr. Bailey has had a great many offers of positions updo .metropolitan dailies, hut has refused them all; resolved to ray In Danbury, probably from an unrecognized feeling that bis id 8 “ mind not to be changed by place.” In conversation wo found him engaging and overflowing with humor, A stenographer could make a rich article sitting by and talking with him. Many were the good things he said the evening wo passed with him, and we shall long .remember our pleasant interview with “ this most gouiai genius." who, with no advertisement save that afforded by a country newspaper with an original circulation of a few hundred copies, has' become one of the most quoted writers in the country, and bids fair, as a late critic says, “to take his place at the head of American hu morists.” THE FTBST SUNDAY IK THE NEW HOUSE. From the Danbury Feus, m The first Sunday in the new house is a notable day. There is an entire absence of old land marks, and a strange, weird newness on every thing, and you can’t find your shaving-soap; You start for a scuttle of coal’but yon don't see the scuttle. It is at the bottom of a barrel in the garret. You take the dripping-pan. When you go to change yonr shirt you look for it first. It ns in one of the bureau-drawers, which are piled one upon another in the parlor, and yon find that you have got to lift half a ton of carpets and feather-beds before you can get down to the drawers. After yon have lifted them down and searched them through, it is remembered by your wife that the desired garment Is in one of the barrels—the one in the shed, she thinks, although it may bo the one iu the garret, and yet it would be just like the stupid carman to have carried that barrel down cellar. You think so, too. Yon attack one of these barrels, and are surprised at the result. Abed-quilt comes out first, then a pie-pan, next a piece of cold ham neatly done up in yonr vest and packed away m the missing scuttle. Below is an assort ment of ironware and a length of stove-pipe,* a half-loaf of bread, a couple of towels, and a rolling-pin. You begin to expect you will even tually como upon a coal-mine, and perhaps some dead friends.. Then you go down into that barrel again, and come up with a pleasing assortment of stockings and half-emptied medicine-bottles. The way you come up this time leads yon to consider the barrel itself. It has caught in the bock of your vest and made the cloth lot go• it took off one-balf of one sleeve, and created a sensation .on the back of your hand os if a bonfire had raged there. It is quite evident the cooper who built that barrel was called away before be commenced to clinch the nails. You involuntarily grasp tho rolling-pin and look around oh if you half expected to see him. Then you call the’girl to repack the bar rel, and start up stairs to look after something that is easier to find, but finally change your mind, and pass the balance of the day in dig ging carpet-tacks and worthless wood from the palms of your feet, and concocting lies about the wealth of your undo; and the moon looks through the window at night, and touches np, with a glow of burnished silver, several lengths of stovepipe, a half-a-dozen odd chairs, a sheet of dirty zinc, and a barrel with bed-quilts foam ing over the top. STAKING A GAUDEN. From the Danbury Fetes. /We suppose there ia a time that comes to every man when ho feels he should like to have a gar den. If he takes such a notion he will tell his wife of it. This is the first mistake ho makes, and the ground thus lost ia never fully recov ered. Sho draws her chair up to his, and lays one hand on his knee, and purees up her lips info a whistle of expectation—the vixen—and tells about her mother’s garden, and how nice it is to have vegetables fresh from the vines every morning, and aho will go right out and plan the whole thing herself. And so she does. He takes his spade, and works himself into a perspiration, and she . tramps around under a frightful sun bonnet, and gets under his feet, and shrieks at the worms, and loses her shoe; and makes him first vexed, and then mad,, and then ferocious. After the garden is spaded he gets the seed and finds she has been thoughtful enough to open the.papers, aud empty thirteen varieties of different vegetables into one dish. This leads him to stop out doors, where ho communes with Nature alone for a moment. Then he takes np the seed and a hoe, and a lino, and two pegs, and starts for the garden. And then she puts on that awful bonnet, and brings np the rear with a long-handled rake, and & pocket fall of beans, and petunia seed, and dahlia bnlbs. While he is planting the corn, sho stands on the cucumber hills, and rakes over the seed-pan. Then she phis the rake-handle over her shoul der, and the rako teeth into his hair, and walks over the other beds. Ho don't find the squash seed until she moves, and then ho digs them out of the earth with his thumb; Sho plants the beet seed herself, putting about two feet of earth and sod upon them. Then she takes advan tage of his absorption in other matters, and puts down the petunia seed in one spot, and after wards digs them np, and pnta them down in an other place. Tho beans sho conceals in tho earth wherever she can find a place,‘and puts the bulbs in tho cucumber hills. Then she tips over tho seed-pan again, and apologizes, and steps on two of the best tomato plants, andsays, “ Oh, my I ” which in no way resembles what he says. About tliis time sho discovers a better place for the petunia seed, but having forgotten where she last put them, aho proceeds to find them, and within an incredibly brief space of time succeeds in unearthing pretty much everything that has been put down. After confusing things so there is no earthly possibility of ever unrav eling them again, she says the sun is killing her, and goes over to the fence, whore she stands four hours, telling the woman next door about an aunt of hers who was confined to her bed for eleven years, and had eight doctors from the city, bat nothing could give her any relief until an old lady—but yon have heard it before. The next day a man comes to his office to get the pay for a patent seed-sower which his wife has ordered, and he no mere than gets away be fore the patentee of a new lawn-mower comes in with an order for 810. and be in tom is followed by the corn-sheller man, and the miserable gar dener starts for homo to head off the robbers, and finds bis wife at the gate, with his own bat on, and just about to close a bargain with a smooth-faced individual for a 8200 mowing-ma chine, and a pearl-handled, ivory-mounted hay cdtter. He first knocks the agricultural-imple ment agent on the head, and then drags the miserable woman into toe house, and, locking the door, gives himself up to his emotions. COUNTING ONE HUNCHED, From the Danbffry-yn~g. A Danbury man named Peahens recently saw a statement that counting one hundred when tempted to say an angry word would Save a man a great deal of trouble. Thisetatcmentaonnded a little singular at first, but tho mpro he read it over the more favorably he became impressed with it, and finally concluded to adopt it. Next door to Bcubona Jives i man who hoa made five distinct attempts in the past fortnight, to secure a dinner of green peas by the let of July, and overy ho has been retarded by Reubens’ bens. The ne3t morning alter Bonbons made his resolution this man found Ins fifth attempt :to have miscarried. Then ho called on Ben* bens. Ho said: - . . k “Wliat in thunder do you mean hy lotting your’ lions tear tip my garden?” ' - • " . Reubens was tempted to coll hhna mtvlsnoot, a new name just coming into general use, but he remembered bis resolution, put down his rage, and meekly observed:. ,j ‘‘One, two, three, four, five, sis, seven, eight—” ' Then the mad neighbor, who had been eyeing this answer with a groat deal of suspicion, broke in again; “ Why don't you answer my question**you rascal r” . t r But still Reubens retained his equanimity, and went on with tho test. - Ninp, ton, eleven, twelve,, thirteen,four teen, fifte’cen,.sixteen—” . . The mad neighbor stared harder that over. “Seventeen;" eighteen, 'nineteen,- twenty, twenty-one—’* , ... , “ You’re a mean.skunk.” said tho mad neigh bor, backing toward tho fence, 0 Beubeiis’face Hushed at this- charge, but he only said: ‘ . - - ' ‘‘Twenty-two. twenty-three," twenty-four, twenty-five, twehtyrfilx—” • .■ - At this figure tho neighbor got upon tho fence iu some haste, but suddenly thinking of his peas, he opened his inouth: * t “ I'ca. mean, Jow-lived rascal, for two cents I could knock voiir cracked head over a barn, and I would—” - “ Tweiitr-aovon, twenty-eight,” s interrupted Reubens, “ twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three—^ Hero the neighbor Jbrdke for tho house, and on toring it, violently slammed the door behind him; but Reubens ‘did not dare let tfp on tho" ennmerStion, and bo he stood out there alone iu his own yard, alid. kppfc on counting, while his. burning checks and fisshiug eyes eloquently affirmed his judgment Whcil Ij« gotup info the eighties his wife came to tho door in some alarm. “ Why. Reubens, man, what ia tho matter with you t" wie said. “Do coma into the house.” . But he didn’t let up. Shs camo out to him, and clung trembling to him, but he only looked ro(d hOr eyes, aud-baid: “Km’ety-ihfee, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred—go into tlid house, old woman, or: I’ll bust yc.” And she went. PAINLESS DEATH. An lutercstiug Suggestion i>y a Scien- tist. Dr. T. W. Ellsworth, of an eminent surgeon, has written a paper on the modes' of capital punishment, which is giyen below as pub lished in the New York Kews: A recent writer suggests the use of chloroform instead of the rope. He also states that the guillotine and the gkfrote are scientific, and in advance of hanging, an old bui convenient mode of execution. The subject is worthy of study in a scientific point of view, for as the world has advanced in its knowledge os to the best ways of preserving life, so it ought in the best way of taking it. To understand the most easy inode of dying, it is necessary to examine tho process of death physiologically, a thing 1 have not seen done when applied to executions. Among the methods of taking life in civilized communities, there is little to choose; for, whichever is selected, how ever, diverse to the eye, tho physical changes producing death are the same, and none free from serious objections. In all, death is tho re sult of an insnfiicicnt supply of pure blood to the brain. This organ alone is the seat of conscious ness, and, unless thus supplied at once, loses its power of perception in proportion to the de ficiency. It is itself almost totally insensible ; it may he cut, torn, or pressed on by tbo finger without pain; Consciousness may be lost by the press ure, but is restored at once on its removal. The duty of tho brain is to take cognizance of impressions made on the nerves which terminate in it, like telegraph wires in the office. These impressions, when thus transmitted to the-brain, are acted on by the mind, and we perceive pleas ure, pain, or specific sense, according to the nature of the existing cause,' or the nerve ex cited. In decapitation the head loses, almost immediately, the blood requisite to invigorate the brain, and faintness ensues, followed by death, just as if blood was taken from any other part of tho body. - But tbo blow cannot descend so swiftly bnt that the subject is fully aware of the incising in strument, and the pain in cutting through the spinal marrow, though brief, must be like a ter-' nfic injury of every nerve in the body at once, since every portion is supplied by this nervous cord, and tho impression made oh the brain is referred to every part where these nerves termi nate. Pain is thus felt, even after tho head lies in the basket. Thus there must be a universal sensation perfectly* impressed on the sensorinm. The vessels cannot empty themselves of blood so rapidly bnt that a moment or two of sensitive life remains, for the brain feels as long as it has vitalized blood enough., Now let us look at strangulation. The aim with every executioner is to break the nock. I question much whether the subject is a gainer thereby. Whether the neck bo dislocated or not, death occurs in precisely the same way and in the same time, while fracture or dislocation probably adds suffering. Look at the anatomy of the neck. Blood is so necessary for the brain that four large arteries cany the supply; cutting off this vital fiuid through any two of those hard ly diminishes the quantity, owing to their free union within the skull. » Two of these arteries, and the largest, ran up the nock in bony canals in the spine; this en tirely prohibits compression under auycircnm st&nces unless the bone is absolutely crushed, which is never tho case in hanging. By this arrangement, when tho compression of the neck occurs, the hrain is still for several moments supplied with blood, capable of sus taining life. This is proved by the black, con gested, and swollen face, blood passing- up and entering by the great vertebral arteries,, hut being unable to escape through the jugular veins, which are external and compressed. Tho person, therefore, most in ail coses he conscious some moments after the drop falls. How is it in dislocation of the neck? This takes place, when it does occur. (which is not usual), at the junction of the two upper hones of tho spinel viz: between tho atlas and the odontoiaos, the tooth-like process of the latter often pressing upon or into the medulla oblon gata, the most vital point in the body, and it -is instantly followed by paralysis of everything below. Bat this does not neces sarily help tii© sufferer. The bodv, it is true, hangs limp and powerless, or affected only by spasmodic action from irritation of tho upper end of the cord, independent of tho mind; but the brain is as yet intact; it receives its supply of blood, and for a moment or two is folly aware of what has occurred. The" (juletnoea of the body does not prove death; it is simply paralysis ; the man cannot move, bat he can keenly feel. Death actually in this case takes place from paralysis of the great nerves of respiration which move the chest and diaphragm so that the blood cannot be aerated. Thus, both in strangulation simple arid in stran gulation with fracture, the mechanism la about the same. In the latter we have paralysis of the muscles, and obstruction of the air-tube, but this does not hasten death, since, if the man can not breathe, owing to paralysis of.the nerves and muscles of respiration, closure of the trachea is of little additional importance, as no air could traverse it if no rope was around the neck. The gorroto combines the evils of beheading with those of strangulation. It is not as speedy as the drop; and the knife severing the spine, while sensation remains to the person who is. choked by the zing, must be very distressing. When in hanging the neck is not broken, there will he more heaving of the chest and convul sive motion, but probably no more suffering. I have seen a dozen cases of fractured neck, and life was prolonged just in proportion to its dis tance from thobrain, and when low down, say at the seventh vertebra, life has been prolonged weeks,-, the respiratory nerve being intact. When, however, fracture was above the third vertebra, death was said to be instantaneous, though not so absolutely; death ensuing simply for want of breath. Death, to be at all easy, must commence in the nervous system, and emphatically in the sensorium. If this is insensible, tho rest of the body is of no account. In hanging, the pulse often beats ten or fif teen minutes, but the subject has long before that time ceased to exist. Organic life may go on some time, as the heart is mainly supplied by a different system of nerves from those entering the brain. Thus when the neck is fractnred, and to the bystander the man seems dead, he* yet lives'; and when ho supposes him living be cause the heart heats, he is, in point of fact, dead. In all these instances there must be a brief but severe pain. * ' - ' * Let us now observe the way nature effects her object in the easier cases. Among these, apo plexy is perhaps the one attended with the rapll est suffering.’though sometimesirhen the attack is hot severe there may for a time be a degree of . this. In aggravated cases, or in convulsions proving fatal, thcro can be none, however for midable the symptoms may appear. Hera tho seat of consciousness is invaded, and this being lost the poraon.ia dead to all intents. We may by and by find some narcotic which will certainly and regularly produce the desired result. Opium probably comes as near as anything, os it over whelms’ the eensorinm first of all, but it is irregular in its action ; in largo doses it some times vomits, and in smaller ones groat and sensible nervous disturbance results.; •The ancients resorted ip various methods of poisoning. These have fallen into, per haps owing to uncertainty ami nmcliahlcness, oa the agent would Lo many circum stances. What is wanted is a method at once instantly destroying sensation. certain in its effects, and impressive to tho .community. All modes by violence now used arc too slow tabs painless. Chloroform will not do. It sometimes destroys life when wc do not dcsiro that result, but oftcncrit ifl tolerated to a great extent, and hours might bo required to reach the result- Whatl would propose, though at first view a barbarous way, must ho attended with absolutely no suffering. Chloroform might ho used in tho cell of the prisoner to render him insensible, though this ia not a necessary prelude to a painless death, for it'would bo equally so without, but it would spare somewhat mental suffering. Then let ham bo placed so that his head rests against tho muzzle of. a loaded cannon, which ia then dis charged. It takes some time for pain to travel on a nervo; its progress is not instantaneous, and long before the sensation could roach tho brain it.ceases to exist. Tho English destroyed, their prisoners in India by blowing them from, guns, out they did it savagely, as they blew away tho body, leaving tho brain tor & time capa ble of receiving sensations. . In the method proposed by mo this could not occur. Disfigurement of tho person might bo objected to, but this is a small evil in coinrau fion with tho benefits. Thorocan fco'no.pain, because thcro is nothing which can fccL A bul let tlircragh tho brain, even when, .life is some what proiouged, would bo far less painful than hanging, because death begins in the very seat of consciousness, and, generally, in such in stances, tho loss of ccnesiousncHs ia tho first, in stead of the last, step bf dissolution. The sound of tho gun would armounco to a whole city tho beginning and cad of an cxccu tion# but consciousness would have left tho vic tim long before the report baa reached the c'oschs bystander, and, hov.over revolting it might ap pear to the cyo, the jrfiyriologist would loo's upon it simplv as a quiet Jving-down to sloop, from which the element of arufcrisg had been wholly eliminated. GROUSE-DRIViNG. A British Sport, From JUaekicood’a Mucazine. It is difficult to convoy iu words, to any one who has had no experience of tho sport, what are tho elements of the fascination which grouse driving undoubtedly possesses for any lover of the gun. Nevertheless, let ns attempt to de scribe it as it really hi, and recall for a mo ment the glories of one of tho great Yorkshire days* Lot ns imagine ourselves again upon a moor,‘in tho early days of autumn, with gtmr, cartridges, dogs, loaders, drivers, and luncheon —all eh regie. We liavo breakfasted early, rid den or driven a few miles to the edgo of tho moor, and walked a mile or two to tho scone of action. Ensconced in the first battery, with our loader busily arranging cartridges ready to his band, and our retriever, keen as mustard and. patient as Job, behind ns, wo are cheered by tho pleasing consciousness that wo have got a good place, and that the drivers are well started. Tho morning is clear and sunny; tho time of day, say 10, or half-past. Tho blue smoko of our morning cigar curls spirally upward, stirred by no untoward wind, “ What a day for driving i” • bursts involuntarily from our lips. Half an ' hour, perhaps three-quarters, elapac, and wo ; are still straining our eyes into the dis tance. Nothing to bo • seen but tho lovely ex panse of heather and golden bilberry, varied by grey and green patches of stones and grass, or strips of burnt moor, which stretches swelling or sinking away to the blue horizon. Nothing to Lo heard but an occasional eelf-satisficd cbuchla from some unsuspecting old cock-grouse, or tho faint bleating of a distant Hock of moor sheep. But hark I a far-off cry of “Ha-a-rk ” h; wafted along the light September breeze. Arrcdia mi nims, we listen for the next symptom of the ap proaching fray, while our eyes almost tire of sweeping sky and earth for signs of tho quarry. Suddenly a small pack of dying birds rises phan tom-like out of the earth, and settle almost be fore wo have caught sight of a feather, about 200 vards ahead, chuckling heartily. These aro ' doubtless suspicious old stagers, whose habit is, under any circumstances, to slink away at the first symptom of human presence on the moor. Wo grasp tho trusty breech-loader, and, pulling our-, selves together, aro conscious that ihe game has begun. At length wo can aco tho flutter of a whito flag on tho crest of yon second hill, fol lowed immediately by a wonderous swirl of dis tant birds, that look like bees in tho air. They sink down again below tho sky-lino, and again the cry of 4i Mark ” arises. Now more flags aro visible, till the complete horse-shoe of flickering whito objects is in view, though still a mile off on tho opposite hlll-foco. Largo bodies of birds are on the move in tbo valley between us and the drivers, more are settling m front, and still wo are idle; while still tho cry of “ Hark ” comes sighing on the breeze. Tho wiord crow of the old cocks, rising from all parts of tbo “slack” in front of tho batteries, keeps our attention on the strain, and promises that work, and plenty of it. is near at hand. Two shots—throe—four—five shots away on tho right of tho line announce that tho ball is opened, and redouble our excitement. <& Are they ever coming?” “Yea!” for before wo have time to.think or aim, our first two bar rels have been fired at a wily old cock, who was on ns before we saw him, bat who disappears unharmed into the.distance behind. With a second gun in our hands we again watch keenly, inwardly cursing the cunning of that old mis creant who has caused us to fail, expended two good cartridges, and who must have risen out of the earth,'for no mortal saw him till ho . was within a yard of tho batteries. Somehow the guns on -the right and loft appear to he enjoying all the fun, for their firo is in cessant, and the birds, though they settled fa front, seem to fight shy of our battery. Bat tho middle of the line Is bound to have its turn*; and look I ours is coming at last. As tho shouting of the drivers waxes loader, about two or tbreo : hundred birds have risen, and are now on tho move towards us, apparently creeping slowly over the very tops of the heather. Straight ab us they come, their necks and breasts gleaming red and bright in the autumn sun, while a feel ing akin to fear comes over us. some of them settle, fresh ones take wing and join them, tiU all is alive with grouse in front, and our gua trembles in our hand os they come on. They are on ns—ihe supremo moment has arrived. Wo pick our birds—bang, bang,—thud, thud— and by us they go with our four barrels into them, not creeping slowly, but at tho rato of fifty miles an hour. 3loro are coming. Oh /or a hundred guns I Easter and faster they stream s at ns; packs, twos and threes, and single birds, as straight as arrows, and as swift as tho north wind; over ns, at our heads, to tho right, to tho left, now behind, * now iu * front again, the cannonade roaring along the line. Bast our ears, and over their dead and dying comrades, on they must come, through all the smoke and thunder of the guns, worthy of Sedan and Waterloo, till we would fain hold hard and let our barrels cool. But the drivers are climb ing up the face we are on, and tbo stream is beginning to slacken. The remaining birds come singly, and are calmly and neatly killed, for those bewildering packs have passea, and aro over the hill behind. Now the drivers are up to the batteries, and the drive is over. The faith ful and patient Hector leaps up, for he knows hit time is come, and we sally forth to pick up the corpses of the slain, and lay them in triumph by our battery. Ton minutes of this work, and wo are told to face about in our boxes. We do so, and again the expectation, tho exdtment. tho torrent of grouse, tho lively fusilade, and tfio thud of our frequent victim on the walls of our stronghold. Again the picking up and reckoning of the slain, the congratulations and condolences, and away over tho hill to tho nexj line of batteries. Such is a good drive in moth em Yorkshire. . , AT THE GARDEN GATE Somebody came to the garden gate, .While a sort baud trimmed the flowers; And a blackbird piped to his listening mate In a language as rich as ours. Somebody blushed at the garden gate— A blush it was fair to see; And the sly sun peered as he fain would wait* And the blackbird paused on the tree. Somebody spoke at the garden gate. As the shadows began to fall; And tho rose looked up, though the hour was late, . . And the peach blushed pink on the wall, . A sweet head fell at tho garden gate, * On an arm that was strong and true; And a chirrup of Ups were heard to stale What words refused to do. — Transatlantic* 7

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