Newspaper of The Democratic Advocate, May 3, 1873, Page 1

Newspaper of The Democratic Advocate dated May 3, 1873 Page 1
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$2 PER ANNUM Jfclect |)oftro. MAY. W clcome, beautiful May, With your wealth of flowers, Making the woodlands so gay, Offspring of April showers! Welcome, beautiful May! Fair as the morning of life, Before our souls are saddened By all earth's toil and strife. We see once more thy garlands, That make the spring complete, And we hear again the music Of thy daintily-sandaled feet. And the swcetly-seented arbutus, Down in the field below, Tries with its fairy blossoms To mimic the wreaths of snow. The apple trees are filling The air with sweet perfume, For to all their boughs are clinging The clusters of scented bloom. And the birds with radiant plumage, That to wood and field belong, Add to the gifts of springtime The glorious one of song. And we think we hear them saying Thoughout the livelong day, ‘‘Praise to the great Creator For the beautiful gifts of May.’’ |3oj)iilar Salts, WEALTH, POVERTY, AFFECTION. A TAI.K OP RCAI. 1,1 PK. Miriam Leslie was listening to a “word j of advice” from her step-father. Mr. Pal- ( mer. She was a very beautiful woman of about twenty-two. with a face that was a rare combination of sweetness and strength. Just now the resolute mouth and expres sion of the large, brown eyes, showed that firmness in her character predominated, 1 though no look of temper marred the | amiability. “ I have no power over your movements. Miriam,” said the old gentleman, kindly. “You are of age, and the wealth you in herited from your father is entirely under your own control; but I am afraid you are committing a grave error if you accept Wilton Seymours offer. I am afraid he i a man to marry money.” “ Why ? I pass over the implied slight to my powers of attraction; but tell me why you think Mr. Seymour marries me for my money alone?” “ I don't know that I mean that exactly. I I know you arc young, beautiful and tab ented ; but I think, if you had also been poor, you would not have had this offer.” ; “ Again I ask. why do you think so?” | “ Wilton Seymour is one of that unfor- 1 tuuate class—a young man who has lived : upon expectations. He has been educated and supported by an eccentric uncle, who was supposed to be enormously wealthy. Wilton has lived in complete idleness, passing through college with average cred it ; and since that, moving in society, re ceived everywhere as the heir to his un cle's money. Six months ago his uncle died, leaving his money —much less than was supposed—to a hospital. Wilton ac cepted the situation gracefully enough, applied for a position as clerk in the whole sale house of Myers A Co., and courted an heiress.” “ You arc bitter. 1 believe Wilton Sey mour to be an honorable, upright man, who loves me, who is trying to earn a support for himself, and who does not look upon my money cither ns a stimulus to his af fection for me or impediment in the way of It.” “I see you arc determined to marry him. Well, I will see that your money is settled upon yourself.” “ I love my future husband too well to offer him an insult. My money will pur chase him a junior partnership with Myers A Co.” “ He has told you that?” No. Mr. Myers informed me tliat he * could be admitted into the firm if he had a capital of ten thousand pounds—only a small portion of my money. The remain der may still remain where it is, subject to Wilton’s check and control.” “ Thai is sheer insanity ! I never heard of such folly 1” Miriam's face grew very sweet as a look came into her soft brown eyes, of devotion and trust. “ If I am willing to trust myself, my whole future happiness in Wilton’s hands, my money is of little consequence. If he can win my confidence sufficiently to con trol my fortune, do you not think he can win my love—myself?” Mr. Palmer moved nneasilyin his chair. “ I wish you would listen to reason,” he said ; “1 am truly speaking for your own good," “ I know that. After nine years of such love is my own father would have given me had he lived; after seeing your severe grief for my mother's death, your affection for my little step-sisters—your own chil dren—never surpassing that you showed me, do you think that I do not appreciate your motives? I thank you from my heart for your advice; but my whole future happinesa is involved in this decision, and I believe I am deciding to secure it.” “ I sincerely hope so. If, in the future, you find I was right, remember I claim a father's right to comfort you, and this is a father's home to receive you.” Too much moved by the old man's solemn tone to reply in words, Miriam pressed her lips upon the kind face that hulked into her own. “ There, my dear," he said, gently, “I have spoken as I felt it my duty to speak. .Now, we will write to Mr. Seymour, who will become ray son when he becomes your husband. (Set your finery ready, and we will have a happy wedding. Ood bless you, Miriam I" Two hours later, Wilton Seymour came to put the engagement ring on Miriam’s Unger, to thank her for his promised hap piness. Looking at this man, as be held the hand so soon to be his own. no one aljc ftcmocratit could doubt his love for the fair woman ' who stood before him. They had spoken of many subjects, when ! ho said, suddenly, ‘‘Mr. Palmer has told j mo of your generous wishes, Miriam, with regard to money. I cannot consent to this. In time, I may prove how entirely I disregarded wealth when my offer was made to you. It is true, we must have waited longer before I could offer you a homo, but I will win my way to fortune yet.” Ho lifted his young, noble head as he spoke, tossing the dark curls from such s frank, maniy face, so full of brave, bright resolution, that Miriam wondered in her heart how any one could look into his eyes and suspect him of one mercenary thought or desire. She sgid nothing in answer to his im petuous speech, only smiled, and nestled j her hand into bis. She was not a caress ing woman—rather coy in her sweet maid en dignity ; but where she gave love and confidence, she gave them fully and freely. The days of their betrothal sped rapidly. During the day Wilton stood at his desk, fingering over massive ledgers, and dream ing of future happiness, and Miriam selec ted her house, furnished it, and kept dress makers. seamstresses and milliners busy. She had no objection to her step-father's wish to have the house and furniture set tled upon herself, but was resolute about the remainder of her large fortune being left subject to the control of her future husband. : Busy days were followed by happy even j tog" The young people were favorites in society, and friends would insist upon the special festivities to celebrate the betrothal. ’ The quiet home evenings were pleasant beyond these, when two loving hearts learned to read each other, while Wilton loved more deeply every day, Miriam was giving auch respect to his worth and man lincaa as made iter future look brighter evary day. But the days of betrothal were short. A gay wedding, a happy tour, and the young people came homo to settle down in the handsome new house as quiet married folks. Two years of happiness followed. Wil ton was rapidly rising in the esteem of business men—having purchased his posi tion of junior partner in the firm of Myers ! A Co., at Miriams earnest request. But, although attentive to his business, he was no mere drudge seeking money as the only end and aim of life. Miriam found him ever a willing eacort , to party, hall, or the opera, and the home evenings were given to music, or reading, or such bright intellectual intercourse as 1 had its power of mutual attraction before their marriage, j There were sage |ople who shook their ' heads over the young wife’s extravagance, but Wilton seemed most happy when she was gratifying some now whim or desire; and she hsd never known the need for economy. Money had always been at her command, and there was nu new restraint 1 upon her expenditure. Kor fine dress she oared hut little, though she was tasteful, ' and her costumes were always rich and 1 appropriate but she was generous and , charitable, loved to collect exquisite trifles ' of art around her, patronised rising artists, i and found no difficulty in exhsusting her | liberal income each year. It was during the third year of her , married life Miriam began to find a cloud :, upon the former bright happiness of her ,' life. Wilton was changed. In these throe I words the loving heart of the young wife i summed up all her forebodings. He had been the sunlight of Her life, loving, ten* i dcr, and thoughtful, but it became evi -11 dent to her that some absorbing interest I was gradually winning him mure and more , from her side. Evening after evening he left her on one i pretext or another, oftentimes staying away from her till long after midnight. His sleep bet aine restless and broken, and ~ some absorbing care kept his face pale, hia 11 eyes clouded, his manner grave. There ,! was no unkindness to complain of. Miri ' am met over a tender caress, a loving word; ; I hnt she went alone if she sought society ; I she missed the pleasant home intercourse; | and a strange, dull fear, crept into her heart. Wilton was becomiuing miserly I He denied her nothing, but would sume i times sigh heavily if she challenged his admiration of some new dress or orau ■ ment, and it was evident he was curtail , ing his personal expenses to the merest > necessities. Too proud to complain, Mir - ism suffered silently, praying that she i might nut learn to despise her husband as a mere money-making machine. At first, . she endeavored to win his confidence, but : he kindly evaded her inquiries, and she i made no further efforts. But her homo grew distasteful, missing i companionship that had made the hours i there fly so swiftly. She had never felt ) household cares, trusting everything to so i experienced house-keeper. She hsd no - childrdta to awaken mother love and care, I so she plunged into fashionable folliea,and s tried to forget her loneliness. Never had i her toilets been chosen with more fault -3 less taste; never had her beauty been more I marked than it now become; and she Bought for excitement as she had never , done in the first happy years of her mar i risge. i And while Mrs. Seymour was thus seek ing for happiness abroad that could not be > found at home, her husband's face grew i daily paler and thinner, and he became t more and more absorbed by business cares. One year more passed, and the hearts that [ bad been so firmly hound together seemed . to be drifting entirely apart. > Miriam was sitting sadly in her draw r ing room, one evening, waiting for the s carriage that was to convey her to a large i social gathering a fashionable friend's. She was dressed in costly lace, over rich b silks, and every detail of her costume was s faultless in finish, and of choicest quality. - Her face was pale, and her eyes veiy sad. ) She looked up as the door opened, hoping i to see Wilton, though it was long since WESTMINSTER, MD. SATURDAY, MAY 3, 1873. , ho had spent an evening in her society. I Instead of his tall, graceful figure, the ! portly form of her step-father entered the | room. Miriam sprang forward with a joyful smile. ‘‘l am so glad to see you," she said. “ But you were going out?" “ Only to bo rid of my loneliness and myaclf. I shall be far happier here with you." “Truly, Miriam? Will you treat me as your father to-night? I have come here upon a painful and delicate errand, and I want your confidence.” She was silent a moment, and then said, "You shall have it." “You love your husband, Miriam ?" Great tears answered him. “Do you lovo society, dress and exeite ) ment better than you do Wilton ?" “No, no 1 A thousand times no.” “Could you give these nil up for hia sake?” “You have some motive for asking this.” “I have, indeed. I lovo your husband also, Miriam. I have learned to respect him, to trust him, and to believe that you were right, and I was wrong, when you . decided to trust your life’s happiness in * his hands.” “But, father, some grent change has come over Wilton. He seems absorbed in money-making.” “One year ago your husband asked mo j to keep a secret from you. believing he was increasing your happiness by doing so. I consented, but lam convinced now that the deceit is wrong. He has assumed a burden that is too heavy for him to bear, and you arc not happier that you were a year ago.” “Happier!” cried Miriam, impulsively; ® “I am wretched ! Wretched in losing my * husband’s society and confidence I" “You shall not complain of that again. I am breaking my promise, but you will | * soon understand my motive. A year ago, 1 the bank iu which every guinea of your 1 private fortune was invested failed, and 1 everything was lost. This house, and the 1 money Wilton had paid to secure his busi ness |>osition, were all that was left of your * father’s wealth. Convinced that luxury. 1 society, and extravagance were necessary * for your happiness, Wilton implored me to , keep the fact a secret from you, and braced 1 himself for a tussle with fortune, resolved ' to regain by his own exertions, what was ' swept away by the failure, before you could discover the loss. But Miriam, he ' is overtasking his strength and you are becoming a butt for severe censures on your extravagance. My secret has bur dened me too long, and you must now yourself be the Judge of the right course to pursue.” Miriam was weeping, but the tears were not all bitter. She gave its full meed of gratitude to the love that would have •hieldcd her from the knowledge of pov erty and pain ; and yet she could scarcely forgive the want of confidence iu her own ability to bear the sacrifice that the deceit implied. It was long before she spoke, but when she did, her eyes were bright, and her voice clear and firm. “The house is mine ?” she asked. “Certainly. But it needs such a large income to sustain such an establishment." “Tell me what style of house does Wil ton s income warrant. I mean the income he had two years ago.” i “A smaller house, dear—no carriage; no housekeeper ; two servants, but certainly no footman in livery; no conservatory “Stop, stop ! I understand you. You will sec, father, if I am made unhappy by your kind frankness. Wilton is in the library, absorbed in business. Will you wait here while I speak to him ?” , “I will come again,” he aaid kindly. “Good night, .Miriam. Heaven grant I judged your heart rightly.” ( But Miriam did not seek her husband at once. It seemed a mockery to go to him with diamonds flashing from her rich dress; so she sought her own room, and putting aside her evening toilette, dressed herself plainly, but carefully, and then kneeling down, prayed with earnest fervor before she left the apartment. “Wilton I” The harrassed weary man looked up. “Wilton, you should have trusted me! Give me your heart, your confidence, ray husband I” He bowed his head upon her outstretch ed hands. “Can you bear it, Miriam?” “I can bear anything if you are beside ' me—if you love, and trust me. What 1 cannot bear is to believe my husband loves money better than his wife !” “No, no 1” “I understand that now. But there must be confidence between us. Wilton ; 1 I must bo your true wife, bearing your sorrows and your reverses.” * “My own brave darling !” He was standing beside her now ; and ' j for the first time in that long, weary year, the old bright look was on his handsome face, and the old clear ring iu his voice. His arm was around her, and she leaned upon his breast. “Forgive me,” he said, earnestly, “for doubting your courage—never your love, Miriam.” She smiled a sweet smile, and then playfully closing his desk, she drew him to a seat beside her, and sketched a burlesque picture of their future home, with Mrs. ' Seymour frying onions, in a crimson satin dress, while Mr. Seymour milked the cow in the yard. It is four years since Mr. Palmer broke his promise. A happier home, a more ' thrifty housekeeper, or proud husband, cannot be found than in the pretty house of the Seymours, where lovo, confidence ‘ and happiness will not yield the first place * to Money. Every heart has its secret sorrow, which > the world knows not, and oftentimes we * rail a man cold when he Is only sad. MPBDra. The sun la warm, the sky la blue, The bud* arc full, the gnm la growing; I wonder if the algna ere true. And winter really la a-golng I ‘Tin too good newa. It aecma to me, That gentle apriug at laat la coming. Thl* very mom I uw a bee— But he wu humming! The aeeil* don’t aeem to ahow u yet— I fear they’ve rolled altogether; The winter‘d been ao very wet— But shall we have more aettled weather ? Thoae fleecy clouda on high that wing Can weep like Niobe's aad daughters; And we perchance may And the spring A apring of water*. 0 gentle apring! betray ua not; W# can be dry, and yet hllarioiu; And, pray, give back the watering-pot To January'a old Aquarlua. Where'er your tiny foot aboil touch, Bid bloaaoma apring, the greenaward fretting— For we've an appetite for auch That need* no wht-ulng. ©r ©Ha. Training Girls for Household Duties. Training girls for household duties ought to he considered as necessary as instruction in writing and arithmetic, and quite as universal. Wo arc in the house more than half of our existence, and it is the household surroundings, which affect most largely the happiness or misery of domes- ; tic life. If the wife knows how to “ keep | house,” if she understands how to “ set a , tabic,” if she has learned how things j ought to be cooked, how beds should be made, how carpets should be swept, how 1 furniture should be dusted, how clothes should be repaired, and turned and alter ed, and renovated; if she knows how purchases can be made to the best advan tage and understands the laying in of pro visions, how to make them go the farthest and last the longest ; if she appreciates the importance of system, order, tidiness and the quiet management of children I and servants, then she knows how to make | a little heaven of home—how to keep her ! husband from the club room and the wine ! cup. Such a family will be trained to so cial respectability, to business success, | and to efficiency and usefulness in what- j ever position may be allotted to them. It is safe to say that not one girl in ten - in our large towns and cities entered into | married life who had learned to bake a loaf | of bread, to purchase a roast, to dust ai painting, to sweep a carpet, or to cut and make her own dress. How much the per fect knowledge of these things bear upon 1 the thrift, the comfort and health of fami- \ lies, may he conjectured, but not calcula-1 ted by figures. It would be of immeasur- i able advantage to make a beginning by i attaching a kitchen to every girl's school | in the nation, and have lessons given daily in the preparation of all the ordinary arti cles of food and drink for the table to the best advantage, with the result of large saving of money, and increase of comfort and higher health in ever)’ family in the land. —Unlit Journal. Artemus Ward. James Parton tho noted author, in an article on Charles Browne, “Artemus Ward,” closes thus, and he gives good ad vice to young men: 1 thought I ought not to conclude this article without letting the reader know why this bright and genial spirit is no longer here to add to the world's amuse ment. Well, this was the reason: Wher ever he lectured, whether in New England, California or London, there was sure to be a knot of young fellows to gather around him, and go home with him to his hotel, order supper, and spend half the night in telling stories and singing songs. To anp man this will be fatal in time, but when the mighty carouse follows au evening performance before an audience, and if succeeded by a railway journey the next day, the waste of vitality is fearfully rapid. Five years of such a life finished poor Charles Browne. He died in Lon don in 1867, aged thirty-three years, and he now lies buried at the home of his childhood in Maine. “He was not a deep drinker. He was not a man of strong appetite. It was the nights wasted in conviviality which his system needed for sleep, that sent him to his grave forty years before his time. Sick Headache. Almost every one has a different remedy for this most common but none the leas distressing complaint. And the truth is, that very few of them have any effect at all, while some of them only aggravate the case. The best and safest way for the sufferer is to lot himself alone till the gas tric or nervous derangements which have produced it have subsided, when sleep generally comes to the aid of exhausted nature, and perfects the cure. The British Medical Journal , in treating of this sub ject, says the only remedies which are of any avail are those which act on the nervous system, such as hot tea and coffee, or, after the most violent symptoms have passed off, a little wine or ammonia. The bromide of potassium is also highly recom mended after the nausea subsides. While this exists, it is of no avail. The writer also thinks that tea and coffee used in excess constantly, although they may re lieve a headache, may also predispose to the difficulty; and he cites instances of several patients, who, by giving up the use of those beverages, became cured of chronic or IVequent headaches.” Dyskntirt.—The following simple remedy has been known to cure the most obstinate oases of Dysentery, when other remedies had failed. It has the merit of being harmless and almost always effect ual : —Take one-foorth of a pint of hot water; vinegar, half pint MU. Now add common salt as long as it will dissolve in the mature, stirring it freely. Give for an adult one tabic spoonful every hour, until the bloody discharges cease, or un til it operates freely upon the bowels.. Cubbi'i Island. ( A writer iu Turf, Full and Farm from j | Richmond, W, give* t description of 1 . Cobb's Island, and how to get there : : Having seen several inquiries about Cobb's | Island in your paper, and having made it j my resort for at least part of the Summer, ' 1 for several years past, I am led to think | I that a few remarks derived from expe- j i rience might be of service to some. The | first thing to do is to gel there ; and though this may seem like a very simple thing, it requires some knowledge to do so. Per sons in New York can take the cars to I Baltimore, and then take the boat down to Norfolk. Or a very pleasant way is to i | take passage on one of the fine steamers j ' of the Old Dominion Line for Norfolk. ; 1 Having arrived at Norfolk, take the steam- 1 |erN. P. Banks for Cherry Stone. If the day is fine you cannot fail to enjoy the 1 splendid sail across the bay. Having reached Cherry Stone, take stage across the little peninsula, and after a delightful (1) ride of five miles you reach the shores of the Atlantic. But the end is not yet. Next you take the little steamer N. W. A. Cobb for the island, which appears only as a few trees rising out of the water, nine I miles off. On the way numberless wild fowl are seen on the low, marshy flats, if the tide ja out; and the sportsmen en-1 thusiastically send a shot after them though i generally out of range, i Well, at last you are at the island, just In time for a capital dinner, supplied with all the delicacies of sea and land. And now let us look about a little. This island, sixty years ago, was a mere sandbank in I the ocean, of a few hundred feet area. , Since then the sea has gradually receded, j till now it is about two miles long and half a mile wide. And here the sportsman, or even the pleasure-seeker, can pass the time most agreeably. Going out to the | blinds, with one of the fishermen to man- I age the boat, you can scarcely ever fail to be highly gratified with your day’s sport. | The waters are alive with fish, if you desire that sort of sport. But one species |of amusement for which this place is celebrated is the shark fishing. Going j out in a boat at the proper time of the j tide, armed with strong lines and fish for l bait, let down your line, and, if fortune j favors you, you will soon have a bite. ' | The shark is a very game fish, and resists savagely. They arc drawn to the top, and I and dispatched by a ball from a revolver, j I or by being struck on the nose with a club, j [ They vary in length from four to between eight and nine feet. This sport is very ! | popular among the ladies. The ladies ! ■ make fine collections of shells from the 1 | neighboring Islands. The surf bathing is j i unusually fine and perfectly safe, and is 1 i not the least attraction of the place. 11 1 could write on to an indefinite length on I ; the various amusements of the place; but | 1 neither time nor space permits. I nearly ! . forgot to add tlmt there arc no mosquitoes ■|to be found there. And, in conclusion, I j 1 : would say that persons, iq hiring boats and : engaging the services of men, should make I their bargains beforehand, as iu this re sped they are inclined to be extortionate. 1 And also, it is not expected that Cape ■ , Cod fishermen can be transmogrified into either gentlemen or first-rate hotel keeper*. 1 And sometimes guests will have to put up I , with some inconveniences, and perhaps , “rough it" a little; but I think any one , going there will have a good time. I lam told that during the coming season a boat will run from Norfolk to Cobb's Island, going out between the capes add , up the coast to the Island, which will be I a great advantage. National Agricultural Congress. ( —On the 24th of May, the second mcet | ing of the National Agricultural Congress . will be held at Indianapolis, Indiana. By j, the constitution of this body each State and Territory is entitled to two represen , tatives for every State organisation enga- I ged in fostering agricultural pursuits. The United States Department of Agriculture. I agricultural schools and colleges with an , endowment of not less than 120,000, and agricultural and horticultural societies of ( 1 not less than fifty member*, contributing to the support of this Congress, are enti (| Hod to one representative each. As the ( meeting of this Congress will be held in the very centre of the country whore the farmers' movement, which is now agitating the West, originated, the proceeding will 1 doubtless bo of a highly interesting char acter. Agriculturists arc aroused in all I part* of the country to the importance of i protecting their rights from invasion, and if they unite the victory is within their I I Psp. The Valve or a Newspaper, —Dr. Franklin remarked that a man often gets 1 1 two dollars for the one he spends inform ing his mind. A man eats a pound of sugar and it is gone; the information he gets from a newspaper is treasured up to ’ be enjoyed anew, and to be used whenever i occasion or inclination calls for it. A , newspaper is not the wisdom of a man, or two men—it is the wisdom of the ago, and i of the past ages too. A family without a newspaper is always behind the time in • general information; besides, they can • never think of much to talk about. And i then there are the little ones growing up without any taste for reading. Who, then, > would be without a newspaper—and who r would read one without paying for it ? i " I Happiness is like manna; it is to be gathered in grains and enjoyed evety day. It will not keep; it cannot be accumulated i ! nor need we go out ourselves, nor into re t mote places to gather it, since it is rained r down from heaven at our very doors, or f rather within them. t Silence and reserve suggest latent power, r What some men think has more effect e than what others say. r—" 1 'i It is safe to ask a lady if she sings or • P*ys, but very dangerous to ask if she paint*. The Animals of Australia. Australia is alqgcther deficient in sensa tional wild beasts. The iguana is perhaps the most startling in appearance. He is a huge lixard. with a huge body and a very < | fat tail. law one shot which was five | feet in length, and which weighed, I should think, over twenty pounds. They are said to be as good ns chickens; but I never ! ate one or came across any one who had done so. They live among trees, and are often to be seen upon the branches. The opossum—“ up a gum tree"—where he is always to be found, seems to be the most persevering aboriginal inhabitant of the I country. He doc* not recede before civi lixation, but addicts himself to young cab | bages, and is a nuisance, As the blacks 1 die out, there is no one to eat him, and he is prolific. He sleeps soundly, and is very i easy to kill witli a dog that will set him— for the hollow, half-dead, crumbling gum trees arc full of him. But there is no fun in killing him, fur he neither fights nor runs away. The kangaroo is so well known, as are also the wallibi and paddy- I melon which seem to be kangaroos iu a state of dwindling nature, that but little I need be said about them here. That they i run only on two legs, and carry their ■ young in pouches, every child has learned | from his picture books. They are still very numerous in many parts of the coun try. I have come upon herds, in which | hundreds have been congregated together; but they arc more frequently met by threes and fours. In some districts they are in creasing in number, Wause there are no I longer black men to eat them. The dingo I or wild dog is the squatter's direst cuemy. I I He comes down by night from holes in the hills or out of dense scrubs, and de stroys the lambs and drives the sheep. The i squatter attempts to rid himself of the dingo by poison, and consequently, strych : nine is as common in a squatter's house as castor oil in a nursery. On many large runs carts are continually being taken ; round with bait* to be set on the paths of the dingo. In smaller establishments the squatter or bis head man goes about with strychnine in his pocket and lumps of meal tied up in a handkerchief. Hence it comes to pass that the use of a shep herd's dog is impossible, unless he be muiiled. Bnt the dingo likes lambs bet ter than bait, and the squatters sometimes I are broken-hearted. It is impossible to j omit all mention of the emu in a book on j Australia. They are now becoming very I rare, even on pastoral ground many miles : from the scacoasL I have been taken out I emu hunting, but I never saw a wild emu. | I was told that it takes a very good, fast j tid lasting horse to run an emu down, especially as the poor bird in it* last strug ; gle, makes it* fastest running. They do I not attempt to aid themselves with their j wings, but toddle along with their long | j legs, ever keeping a straight line. I Fecundity op Fishes. — lt is said that I probably about 60,000,000 or 70.000,000 I codfish arc taken from the sea annually I around the shores of Newfoundland. But' j even that quantity seems small when we ! ! consider that the cod yields something like ! • 3,500,000 eggs each season, and that even I i 8,000,000 have been found in the roc of j 1 a single cod ! Other fish, though not I i equalling the cod, are also wonderfully productive. A herring six or seven ounces ! I in weight is provided with about 30,000 j ovas. After making all reasonable allow- I ances for the destruction of eggs and the 1 young, it has been calculated that in three j i years a single pair of herrings would pro- j i duce 154,000,000. Buffon said that if a pair of herrings were left to breed and j multiply undisturbed for a period of twen- ’ i ty years, they would yield a fish bulk equal j ii to the globe on which we live. The cod 1 far surpasses the herring iu fecundity, j Were it not that vast numbers of the eggs , are destroyed, fish would so multiply as to fill the waters completely. —Scientific , American. Tin: Beuinninu and the End.— I Chiccory is said to contain properties pos- lively injurious to the health. Yet ground coffee, as sold by the grocers is usually adulterated with this substance, and many i 1 persons insist that it improves the flavor j lof the coffee. We are informed in a re-1 cent work on coffee that the coffee dealer i | adulterates his coffee with chiccory to in- j i j crease his profits; the chiccory dealer i | adulterates his chiccory with Venetian-red jto please the eye of the eoffee dealer; and j . j lastly the Venetian-red manufacturer grinds |up his color with brick-dust, that by his | j greater cheapness, and the variety of shades i j he offers, he may secure the patronage of j i the trade in chiccory. The art of saying appropriate words in i 1 a kindly way is one that never goes out of , fashion, never ceases to please, and within I reach of the humblest. The teacher who j would be successful must cultivate the | gift- _ t A neat, clean, fresh-aired, sweet, cheer ful, well-arranged house exert* a moral influence over it* inmates, and makes tbe i member* of a family peaceable and consid erate of each other's feelings and happi ness. A woman will make as long and patient a tug in life a* a camel, if you only give ( her a kind word now and then, and show her a bit of green comfort at the end. j Sincerity is speaking as we think, ' believing as we pretend, acting as we ' profess, performing as we promise, and > being as we appear to be. I Toothache.—lntroduce into the cavity • of the tooth as much chloral hydrate as it will contain. It will arrest all pain in stantly. t Marriage can never be attended with honor, or blessed with happiness, if it boa not it* origin in mutual affection. r Whsre the month is sweet and the eyes > intelligent, there is always the look of beauty, with s right heart. VOL. VIII.-NO. 2R The Baltimore Railroad Tunnel. Within the next two months the rail-I road system of tlie North will bo united to I that of the South by {lie completion of the j connecting link, the Baltimore and Poto- 1 | mao tunnel. This gigantic enterprise lias : lcu conducted so quietly, that there arc ; I many persons living in the city not very ■ | remote from the line of operations who would not have known that the work had ! begun if it had not been for the newspa 1 per*. Three years ago we announced that j the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad was j j going to make connections with the Nor- j | them Central by running under the city, and indicated the route which would ho 1 j followed. Our cotemporaries were face-1 I tiously iucrcduloua, and not many of our i j readers were prepared to believe that such I a imject could be successfully carried out. j 1 One year afterwards their incredulity waa I somewhat shaken by seeing a long procos-! I sion of carts turn into Charles street ave nuc, and a corps of sturdy laborers be- j | ginning to make an excavation near the ] intersection of Cathedral street and North j avenue. Twenty-three months ago ground ! was broken, and now the tunnel, over one j mile in length, pausing under the streets j . of the city, is within a few weeks of com-1 j plction. No city in America can boast an under i ground railway that will compare with the Baltimore and Potomac tunnel. Taking the Northern Central Hallway as a base line, double tracks diverge from it, the first at Boundary avenue and the other I a few hundred yards further north. They each cuter a tunnel and are lost sight of until they emerge into daylight at John street, where they unite and take the main tunnel, following Boundary avenue to j Wilson street, and then turning into that; street, or rather umlcr it, thirty-five feet from the surface, they keep a straight \ course with the line of the street until the j open cut is reached near Fulton avenue, i Through trains sonthward bound will take what might be called the northern fork of | the tunnel, and the passengers will see bat little of the city. Trains which leave the I Calvert Station, and also those that come ! from the Philadelphia and Wilmington j Railroad by the Cniou Hoad, will take the I other fork. Of course northern bound i trains will take the fork branching to the j north at the John street cut, and the trains for Baltimore and Philadelphia will take the southern fork. The connection with the Philadelphia and Wilmington Road will be made by the Union Railroad and j tunnel, which commences at Bclvidere! bridge, and continues on through the eas tern section of the city to lower Canton and tidewater. We are not advised of the cost of this magnificent improvement, but iSmust have been two, possibly three millions of dol lars, So many couditiona enter into the ■ estimate that it is almost impossible to arrive at any correct result. One heavy ! item has been the damage to buildings on Wilson street and the streets intersecting. Although the excavation did not come ; near to the foundations of the houses, yet j it disturbed the normal condition of the 1 underlying ground, and, and many cracked and sunken walls arc to be seen between I Madison avenue and Pennsylvania ave nue. Another difficulty that required much engineering skill to overcome was ! the drainage. Little streams of water came trickling down through the rocks at frequent intervala, and to provide aque ducts for all these was no inconsiderable matter. A city sewer was tapped at the I intersection of MeCullnh and Wilson streets, which for a time presented a most difficult problem to the engineers, and the property owners of the neighborhood were greatly alarmed lest the drainage should lie interrupted. The joint committee on Highways of the City Council was also somewhat exercised over what seemed to be a “ crisis, but happily the engineers solved the difficulty. The diameter of the sewer was four and a-half feet, and the fall nine inches in cne hundred feet. The question waa how to got this sewer over or under the tunnel, and still preserve enough of fall to discharge the water. A new section of sewer was constructed, six feet in diameter, which was carried along on , the haunches of the tunnel, with a fall of 1 three inches to the hundred feet (the di ! ametcr having been increased, the fall could be proportionately lessened) until it 1 reached the intersection of Morris alley and Wilson street. At this point it had 1 reached an elevation which permitted it I to be carried across the top of the tunnel, and thence eastward until the sewer was .! reached at the intersection of MeMochcn 1 street and Morris alley. It will be seen from this that the railroad company did considerable sewer building for the city. ■ In building the tunnel about fourteen I millions of bard-burned brick were used in , turning the arch, and seventy-fire tboua ,l and tons of Cockeyavillc limestone in pnt i ting up the side walls. The transporta tion of stone from the quarries, thirteen miles distant, was in itself a heavy under taking. The blocks were lifted from the 1 cars with derricks, and dressed ready for putting up before they were taken into the tunnel. The process of construction is too complicated to admit of description in this article except in the most general , terms. The work was divided into see . tions and a shaft sunk to the proper depth at the beginning of each section. From these starting points excavations were made in both directions, the debris being , brought back to the shaft and lifted out by means of eievaton worked by steam. Small oars were used which were pushed back to the shaft on a temporary track, lifted to the surface by the elevators, and then hauled away on another track to • whatever point on the ontaide needed fill ing up The excavation has a cribbing of stout hickory logs, which very probably ! would have made the tunnel safe for some years without any stone wall or brick arch. As soon as a section sixteen feet. long was I excavated, a sort of wooden arch waa oon f struoted, the logs being placed longitudi nally. each section overlapping the other four feet, the whole being held up by ; strong props. Everything being mode aft for the workmen in this way, a section of twelve feet of the tunnel was built, then the props were knocked out, the forms over which the arch is turned, technically called "centres,’’ and the staging were moved forward twelve feet, and a new lec tion begun. This, of course, only applies to that part of the tunnel where the sur i f*ce ground was not removed. In some pieces the excavation was carried down from the top, and in theae sections the work was of course less complicated. 1 The daily average of men employed on the work ia about nine hundred. We be lieve that only four men have thna far been killed, and each of these lost his lift by an accident, the result of his own in difference to danger and want of fore thonght. Seventy-five thousand cubic yards of rock were blasted out, but no ac cident occurred from this cause nor from the falling of any portion of the excavated earth or rock. One fine day last week we walked through the tunnel from the inter section of Madison avenue and Wilson street to the entrance near Charles street avenue. The walk is not commended as 1 particularly pieassnt, on account of the active operations now going On in break ing atone for ballasting and patting down the track, but no one can take it without being impressed with the magnitude of the work, and the skill, energy and capital expended in carrying It through. The contractor, Mr. Thomas Rutter,’has be come famous as a builder of tunnels, and this last one is not the least of the sab terrancan monuments of hia gcr>iuß.—- American. A census of the Sandwich Islands has recently been taken, which shows the to tal population of the kingdom to be 66.- 897. For a considerable period the pop ulation of these islands has been steadily decreasing. In 1832 the number of in , habitants was estimated at 130,00 ft; in 1861 a census showed the number to be 69,800, of whom 2716 were foreign born ; i in 1866 another census was token, giving a total of 62.956, of whom 4194 were for eigners ; and in 187} the latest census was ordered, showing 56,897 population, of whom 5366 are foreigners. Thus the total steadily decreases, although the com- . her who are of foreign birth increases. Of the natives, 49,044 are full-blooded and 2487 half-breeds. Of the foreigners there i are 1938 Chinese, 889 Americans, 619 from Great Britain. 226 Germans. 88 French, and 395 Portuguese, other nations having smaller numbers. The estimated decennial rate of decrease in the number of full-blooded natives ia twenty per cent. The fisheries of the United States, ac cording to the census, employ 20,564 per sons, and their products are valued at 1 $11,696,522. These products embrace | 1,135 barrels of sea-baas, 559,982 quintals of codfish, 2,475 quintals of haddock, 10,955 quintals of hake, 2,451 tons of 1 halibut, 31,210 barrels of herring, 221,003 barrels of mackerel, 5,463 barrels of mul let, 647,312 bushels of oysters, 3,216 bar rels of pickerel, 24,118 barrels of salmon, . 1.910.000 pounds of canned salmon, 2,- 617.000 shad, 25,700,000 white fish, 132,- 718 barrels of miscellaneous fish, and 1 766,930 gallons of fish oil. More than one-half in value of the fish caught ia by Massachusetts fishermen, (6,215,325; Maine and Connecticut have the next largest products, each being tea than (1,000,000; New Jeraey returns (374,012, and Pennsylvania (38,114. The Li mber Trade.—The Lumber men in different parts of the country are much gratified at the recent freshets, which are bringing down the logs in vast num -1 here to the booms on the various riv&n. 1 In Maine, Pennsylvania and other timber i States, the streams have been for some time past greatly swollen, and the timber that has been laid np for a year, and in : some cases for two years, is being brought down to the booms, where it can be made up into rafts and taken to market. The freshets in the streams loading through the lumber regions have been heavier this year than for several seasons post, owing to the ’ deep snows of last winter and the copious rains that accompanied the breaking up of I the cold weather. The Bank of England coven five anna I of ground, and employs nine hundred clerks. There are no windows on the street. Light is admitted through open , court j ; no mob could take the bonk, there , fore, without cannon to batter the immense , walla. The dock in the centre of the bank 1 has fifty dials attached to it Large cis terns are sunk in the court, and engines, , in perfect order, ore always in reodinew in , cose of fire. This bank was incorporated in 1694. Capital, 190,000,000. Fifteen hundred singing birds of differ | eut varieties, imported from Germany by a society organised for that purpose, were , turned loose in the suburbs of Cincinnati . last week, the object being to domesticate j them in this country. 1 The printers of the country press of ' North Alabama have resolved not to work for any paper using patent outsides. 1 A Pottatown literary society is debating 1 ato whether or not the present state of ' affairs indicates the downhill of our Re ! public. t ... A nun in New Braintree, Mao., reoent l ly celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of hismarriage with hi* third wife. ’ The Comns.v 0 have just put their eight hundred and eleventh locomotive on the rood. r In the Treasury Department at Waah -5 ingten there are 1900 male and 700 female S a Thought mean* life since those who do not think do not live in tay high <* real r rense Thinking makes tire wan.

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