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/ f!s= 5t! V ol . v .-- no |'*44 JEFFERSONVILLE, THURSDAY, JANUARY 16, 1873. WHOLE NO. 252. IA J , 1S73. \A ^PHANTASY. The Hew Year lay a listening Amid the drifting snow, And would not heed And could not speed, And knew not where to go. “Fair E a rth,” said he, “If I should eomg Ajid n ^ e j-aj'Some ErewMle with thee, 4 ^ . \What precious b o o n ^ |' By n ight or noon, H ast thou for me ?” “Flowers and blight, And song and storm, And Wintery night And mid-day warm, Delight and dole \With love and strife, H e a rt and soul And busy life—. * These, good Year, II I gife to thee. And now, sweet Year, \What hast for me ?” Low laughed the Year; “ ’Tis well to give The things J bring That thou mayst live. Now tell me, Earth, ~ W hich gifts are thine, And which are mine, By right of birth ? And what were I, S t i l l l a c k i n g th e e ? And what were thou Bereft of me ?” * The Earth had not A word to say, But rolled along Its steady s ay; And still the Year lay listening Amid the drifting snow, That Would not lieed And could not speed, And knew not where to go. The Story of a Singular Character. On a drive with some friends over Pomfret Hills, - Ot. ,1'the other day, we called on a singular character—a man who is 30 years pld, who is deaf, dumb and blind. W hether he would have been dumb or not had he been blessed with the sense of hearing, it is impossi ble to tell, but his glimmerings of in tellect are evidently rather feeble. The and looks strong and robust; has never eaten anything but m ilk ; has never tasted water nor a particle of food but milk. Thirty years on clear milk, and with* a neck like an ox, and apparently a muscular system to correspond. Can we say now that milk is for babies and calves, and not for strong men. This mfm had j ’! full set of strong double th.rfSi^uSP^Vnu, and every one of s.d i 6 be pulled out, as he tore lothes to pieces with them. As he didn’t use them to chew milk with, he lobably thought he must make some use of them, as they were evidently made for something, and his clothes furnished excellent material on wnich to exercise them. Another peculiarity of this strange being is that through all his life long he has chewed a rag—or rather, I should say, has gummed it since his strong < testh were taken from him. From in fancy his mother has had to place a rag in his mouth as soon as he had taken Ms food. She said he gave her no peace till she put it back. He distin guished stranger^ from the neighbors and those who had visited him before. ^ I took hold of his hand and he took it * ii. b oth of his and seemed to be consid ering; then he passed Ms hand up the hng-th .of my arm, and patted his head aid chest and made a singular gutteral noise. His mother .said that was his ^ay|of expressing joy—of showing that :ie was-*pleased. His principal enjoy ment seems to consist in having Ms Mother get through with h er work and dt down- by Ms side. He has a swing m the i&om, iu which he spends a good part o r the tip&e swinging. Sometimes Alien I is mother steps out, he will lock 5he door so that she can’t get back again, wbagfcsbowB that he has some wit about^^K, cfr trickery at least. He is alway^PPiy*Tvakeful at night, and ^rouses his mbther ont -of bea many times in the night. She says he has lived thus withttftt a good night’s rest for 30 years, wHatlj the exception ©f Saturday and Sunday nights, f ie calms down and t keeps that night and all the SundtJ^after in the strict letter of the old * blue, law s” , of Con necticut. His mptlier attributes tbis hebdomadal te the fact that'she changes M s clothes Qnt S aturday night. But it is probably owing to th$ mere fact of change from the ordinary routine. This glight ripple of change is a change to ^urn, and the rdsst a sort of weekly land mark in the dreary, monotonous blank of Ms life. Perhaps through the cloud and mist of Ms vacant mind he welcomes .this Slight ripple, and thus ip his poor riway computes the flight of time. W hat meaneth it to such a mind as this ? To wake and sleep, to draw the breath, to take a pint of milk. The Sun goes round, the seasons change, fout^naught of this knows _ he. Nations*-arise and nations fall—’tis the same to him. One dreary round, forever blank—will death improve his state ? The bird that flies, the fish that swims, has better life than this. Anecdotes of John Bimyan. To pass away the gloomy hours in prison, Bunyan took a rail out of the stool belonging to his cell, and with his knife, fasMoned it into a flute. The keeper hearing music, followed the sound to Bunyan’s cell, but while he was unlocking the door the ingenious prisoner placed the rail in the stool, so that the searchers were unable to solve the m y stery; nor during the remainder of B unyan’s residence in the j ail, did they ever discover how the music had been ^produced. In an old account of Bedford there is an equally good anecdote, to the effect that a Quaker called upon Bunyan in jail, one day, with what he professed to be a message from the Lord. “ Alter searching for thee,” said he, “ in half the jails of England, I am glad to have found thee at last. ” “ I f the L ord sent thee,” said Bunyad, sarcastically, “you would not have needed to take so much trouble to find me out, for He knows I have been in Bedford jail these seven years^j ast.” Every Saturday n ig h t! like a lamb, * Historical and Personal. Louis XTV. was in 1691 not much be yond the prime of life, and he was still in all the strength of his glory. He was fifty-three years old, and undoubt edly at the-head ^ E u r o p e , Spain be- ing-'&eeadent, 'Germany 1 derided, and England only beginning her, reaction against the vassalage of OharlesHJ. and his brother, under the leadership, of \William of Orange. He had gained all the important triumphs which had giv en him the title of “ Great,” and the taint of fraud in some of wMch has been so bitterly expiated by France in our own time. He was master of French Flanders, Franche-Comte, and Burgun dy. He had inflicted horrible sufferings upon Holland and Germany. He had taken Luxembourg, stolen Strasburg, and bought Casal. His ambition was known to be still unsatisfied; Ms de signs upon the Spanish crown VYere fore- seeh; and hence Europe was now en gaged in the confederacy which shook Ms kingdom to its foundations, and prepared humiliation for his gloomy old age. The influence of the men of gen ius (Ms support of whom constituted his charm in the eyes of Voltaire) was still unrivaled, although some of the greatest of them had passed away. His personal despotism retained all its un questioned ascendancy, and was one- of the dangerous legacies wMch he left to his family and to France. 3h private life the king had now become what we may call a respectable sinner, and was gradually sliding into a quasi-devout condition—half conventional, half foun ded on fear of the devil—under the adroit management of Madame de Main- tenon. That lady had been a respecta ble sinner herself, and Aas a penitent after his Majesty’s own fashion, having passed from a deoorous demirep into a private unacknowledged wife,' and add ed to the perfumes of Versailles a tinge of holy water. She ruled over Louis’ passion of religious fear, as the Valliere, the Montespan, the Fontanges h ad oyer another passion, and, as far as we can see, with quite as little excuse. Sensual by calculation, amusing by study, with the cunning of Becky Sharp varnished over with the gravity of a court which was always pompous in its gayest times, she suited the mature Louis admirably. And she got her reward for betraying tbe Montespan, persecuting the Protes tants, deserting Fenelon, and so forth— not the declaration of marriage wMoh she hoped, but the privilege of nursing a morose, melancholy, disappointed, and meanjy-timid old man, roun$ whose neok she had hung relics probably as false as h er caresses, and whom she fled from forever when he had the death- rattle in his throat. Of all the mis tresses of Louis XIV., we confess that the one we like least is the legal one.— CornMll Magazine. The Farmer’s Vocation Perpetual. \We n eed n o t fear that the human'race will ever cease to have a delight in the cultivation of land—the raising of grain and fruits—in planting trees. Men al ways did delight in the pleasure of ag riculture. It has been the chosen pur suit of the ablest and wisest men in all ages. The pleasures of the husbandman have been the theme of poets and ora tors in every language .and \in every land. These pleasures, Cicero tells us, are not checked by any old age, and make the nearest approach to the life of a wise man. And he tells ns that Homer introduces Laertes, soothing the regret which he felt for his son, by tilling the land' and manuring it. Marcus Curius, after he .had triumphed over the Sarn- nites, over the Sabines, over Pyrrhus, spent the closing period of his existence in agricultural pursuits. Gincinnatus was at the plow when it was announced to him that he was made Dictator. “ God Almighty,” says Lord Bacon,. “ first planted a garden; and indeedit is the purest of pleasures; it is\ the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, jrithout which buildings and pa laces are b u t gross handiworks.” Addi son says a garden was the first habitation of our first parents before tbe fall. I t is naturally apt to fill the mind with calm ness and tranquility, and to lay all its turbulent passions at rest. The philo sopher Bolingbroke was never so happy Pope tells us, as when among-the hay makers on his farm. And not alone in the refinements of rural .life will there be an interest. Farmers hold the world together. There may be ■ years 'when they seem to be of less consequence. Trade or manufacturers may allure some of them for a time. But there will ever be latent in every man’s breast a hope to end his days on a farm. The remarkable faculty which dogs have of finding their way home from a strange locality by paths previously un- - known to them seems to fail in great cities, .where dogs so frequently lose their way completely. A writer m the Quarterly Review tMnks that they “ have a certain sense of the magnetic currents, sufficing to afford them a sort of internal mariners’ compass, marking the direction-in which they travel. \We know that the magnetic currrents affect the needle, and thg hypothesis that they may also affect living frames with special organizations seems no way incredible; while the fact that a dog which can find his way for a hundred miles in the open country, may lose it in five hundred yards in a town, seems to point to the multitude of streets turning to right angles as the cause of confusion to a sense which simply indicates a straight direction. ___________________ The girls in the first class of the High School in Portland, Maine, have made a decided movement in favor, of sim plicity in dress. The class, between thirty and forty in number, have al most unanimously agreed to adopt for \school wear dresses of plain, substantial, and inexpensive material. Fanciful ornaments and jewelry\are to be used only to a limited extent, which is. speci fied and fully understood by the girls. Many pupils in the lower classes are following their example. Any move ment to cause the young girls m Amer ica tg dress simply is worthy of highest commendation. It is painful to see those who are fresh and young, and who are ostensibly occupied in gaining an education, so dressed as to show plainly that their thoughts are largely Bpent upon outward adornments. The number of hogs slaughtered in Cincinnati, for one week was 43,000, and the whole number from November 1 to the present date 379,000. The Fear of Heath. The dread of death is universal and instinctive; and yet how many rush into its arms ! Suicide is a most impressive fact in tMs connection. The disap pointed lover, the discouraged adventu rer, the suspected clerk, the child wounded in its self-love or fearful pun ishment, faces the great enemy and in vites his blow. Every now and then the community is shocked by suicides so unprovoked and so frequent as al most to persuade us that the natural fear of death is passing away. The in consistency is easily explained. Lord Bacon says there is no passion that will not overmaster the terror of death. For passion is thoughtless; occupied wholly with an immediate Suffering, it makes no estimate of any other kind of p a in ; absorbed in an instantaneous sorrow, i t takes no other sorrow into account. The mind entertains but, one passion at a time, whether it be joy or fear. .B u t men are not always or generally under the influence of passion. Ordinary life is calm, calculating, considerate, and it is to ordinary life that death is so terri ble. It is the thought of death is terri ble, not death. Death is gentle, peace ful, painless; instead! of bringing suffer ing, it brings an end of suffering. I t is misery’s cure. \Where death is,-agony is not. The processes of death are all friendly. The near aspect of death is gracious. There is a picture some where of a fearful face, livid and ghast ly, which the beholder gazes on with horror, and would turn away from, but for a hideous fasoination that not only rivets his attention, but draws him. clo ser to it. On approaching the picture the hideousness disappears, and when directly confronted it is not any more seen; the face is the face of an- angel, I t is a picture of death, and the object of the artist was to impress the idea that the terror of death is in apprehen sion. Theodore Parker, whose-obser vation of death was very large, has said he never saw a person of any rbelief, condition or \experience unwilling to die when the time came ; and my own more limited observation confirms the truth of the remark. Death is an ordi nance of nature, and like every ordi nance of nature is directed by benefi cent laws to beneficent ends. ' \What must be, is made welcome. Necessity is beautiful. Poor People. There are various kinds of poverty. People perishing with famine are poor. People that cannot procure fuel in the winter, nor sufficient clothing for warmth and comfort, are poor,- People that are compelled by their circumstan ces to live in squalid apartments, in ill- ventilated alleys, are poor. People thui are infirm in health, and need a warmer climate and have no means to go away with, are poor. These are poor in their own view, and in the view of all man kind. People may be said to be abso lutely poor, too, whose intellectual na tures have begun their development, and yet who cannot procure books, or acftess to libraries), or entrance into schools and colleges. But, after all, it is “style” that makes many people poor; the show in which other people live. The house that was well enough furnish ed before, becomes mean when the next neighbor furnishes her rooms with more expense and elegance. Bricks or wood were good enough, till another’s brown- stone front went up. And the sidewalk and the horse-cars would answer Yery well, till a neighbor’s horses pranced along the street, with glittering harness and glancing wheels, and a black coach man with silver buttons drove up to tbe door. And the same is true in circum stances of much humbler degree. Con tent is known to live in the cottage, b u t takes its leave after it has once visited the “ mansion.” “ Style” is the world in many people’s thoughts. Is not this arrant folly, good people Is our own house the less oomfortable because that of our neighbor is larger ? Are our own blessings the less appreciable because his apparently outnumber them ? Out upon such folly! The strong-mipded and the wise never find themselves \poor however small their means and however cultivated their tastes may be. The world of God’s creation is so much larger, so much fuller, so much more to them, than any work which man can create, that they never have a want be yond their means. Cannot yon be as wise as they ? A 11 Essay Upon Correct Grammar. A searcher after truth writes to ask us which is grammatically'correct, to say, “ the house is building,” or “ the house is being b u i lt;” “ the street is paving,” or “ the street is being paved ?” There is a wide diversion of opinion upon this subject; but we are inclined to favor “ is being b u ilt,” for' the following rea sons : Suppose you want to express an other kind of an idea, would you say, for instance, “ Johnny is spanking,” or “ Johnny is being spanked ?” The dif ference to you may seem immaterial, but it is a matter of considerable im portance tu J o b n n y ; and it is probable that if any choice were given Mm, he would select the former alternative. You assert, we say, that “ Hannah is hugging,” which, b y the way, would be a very improper thing for Hannah to do, it would be positively scandalous, in deed. Precisely a similiar idea is con veyed if you say, “ Hannah is being hugged,” because i t is a peculiarity of the act that i t is hardly ever one-sided; there is no selfishness about it. And it is the same with kissing. “ Jane is kissing,” is just exactly as if we should say, “ Jane is being kissed; and the sensation is the same. It will not be necessary, however, for our correspon dent to attempt to prove this last men tioned fact by practice. He must take our own word for it. Unless he does so, we shall answer no more questions in Syntax for him or any one else. Our duty to conserve the morals of the com munity, not to start people to playing private games of Copenhagen. A toper got so muoh on his stomach the other day that said organ repelled the load. As he leaned against a lamp post vomiting, a little dog happened to stop by bim, whereupon he indulged in this soliloquy : “ Well, now, here’s a, conundrum. I know where I ate the baked beans, I remember where I ate that lobster, I recollect where I got that rum, but I ’m hanged if I can recall where I ate that little yaffier dog. Vi Stokes on Trial. The trial of Edward S. Stokes, for the murder of James Fisk, J r., was resumed in the Court of Oyer and Terminer, be fore \Judge Boordman. The prisoner himfeelf was placed on the stand on his own behalf, and his examination lasted all day. He explained at length the oircumstances of Ms business relations with Fisk, their subsequent litigations, and the various legal proceedings which arose from them. He narrated the pro- f ress of the libel suit instituted .against isk by Josephine Mansfield, and hav ing Stated how he left Yorkville Police Court «n the morning of the shooting, he detailed his subsequent movements up to ih e time of Ms arrival at the Grand Central Hotel. He was induced to enter the hotql by seeing a lady in the window above he thought he recog nized as a friend he m et at Bai-atoga during the previous summer,*atid fife endeavored, but without success, to bring a friend, Mr. Bailey, with him. After entering the hotel he found that the lady was not the person whom he supposed, and he turned to' go away; he had got down three or four steps, when he saw Fisk inside the second door; Fisk pulled Ms pistol out, and witness sprang to the left to be out of ran. The witness here described F isk as ho! ing his pistol with both hands, and said he immediately took his pistol out of Ms right-hand coat pocket, and fired. Fisk cried Oh ” at the first shot, and at the second he turned partly around and Baid he was shot, and seemed to drop his pistol; had no premeditation to kill Fisk, and had no time to tMrik; saw Fisk’s pistol distinctly, andUelieved his own life to be in danger afid he instant ly took out his- own pistol, cocked it, and fired as rapidly as possible, aiming at Fisk, but not thinking of killing, and not taking any particular aim. He de nied the testimony of Thomas H a rt that \he crouched as.if waiting for some one, and never used the 'words,- “ Now I have you;” did not go into the ladies’ parlor, and dropped his pistol n ot there, but at the head of the stairs; did not say “ I have just come in;” Fisk did not iden tify him as the man who shot Mm, but simply said, when he was confronted with him, “ That is Mr. Stokes.” W it ness described that F isk was\ a desper ate, unscrupulous, vindictive man; that he had made threats against his life, and, in consequence of these threats, he was always apprehensive of violence through his agency; Fisk boasted to him that his touch was cold and olammy, that it was dangerous to cross him, and that Dorman B. Eaton would not trouble him any more. He denied the testimony of P arker that he said “ Fisk was a ~t— black-mailer, and that he would shoot him;” he had no acquaint ance with Parker, and the statement was an invention. He repeated the ev idence concerning the case given at the last trial, and was then subjected to a severe cross-examination. , In Peril from a Drunken Engineer. A few nigbts since the locomotive of a train on the Pennsylvania Railroad was run between Pittsburg and Altoona by an. engineer who had, unknowingly to the conductor, become considerably intoxicated in the former city. At times, at the most dangerous places, the man put the engine to its utmost test—forty- fiVe and fifty miles an hour. But when ever he saw a red light he reversed the locomotive, and brought into operation the patent\ air-brakes. The stoppages from Pittsburg to Altoona on this ac count were very many, and the train was several hours late on arriving at the latter place. The peculiar move ments of the train greatly excited the passengers and filled them with painful amazement. The conductor had be come informed of the engineer's condi tion, bnt he could find no one to whom he could entrust the responsibility of running the train. He studiously kept the secret from the passengers, lest its divulgement would fill them with ter ror. Notwithstanding the dangerous hands in which probably a hundred lives had been placed, the train reached the end of the engineer’s run with safe ty. It is needless to add that the drunk en employee of the company was prompt ly discharged. He had previously been considered one of the best and most re liable engineers—as he was one of the oldest—on the road. On the day of the accident,\ unfortunately, he fell in with a party of friends, and drank an inordinate quantity of liquor. -'A ltoona ( Penn .) Tribune. A New Invention in Telegraphy. ' When Sir William Thompson invent ed Ms reflecting galvanometer, and showed its usefulness for telegrapMc purposes, he insured the success of un der sea cables, whatever their length. W ith this instrument, the movements of the little reflector enables the clerk to read off the message by careful watch ing. But recently Sir \William Thomp son has invented an instrument—the patent siphon recorder—which, as its name indicates, writes or records the message, as received, on a strip of paper. I t is an essential condition of such an instrument that it shall be very light; and the siphon, in this case, made of capillary tubing, is not thicker than a horse-hair. Indeed, so small is the bore, that the ink will not flow therein of itself, but squirts out when electri fied. The siphon is connected with a coil of copper-wire, an electro-magnet, and an ebonite disk, armed with pieces of soft iron, which being attracted by the magnet, is kept rotating, jmd regu lates the current flowing from the b at tery and tbe cable. Acted on by tMs current, the ink, as already stated, squirts from the siphon, and writes a succession of dots and dashes, wMch represent the letters of the alphabet. To an unaccustomed eye, the writing is a confused unmeaning scribble; but a good telegraph clerk will read it off as if it were ordinary writing. .Thus a mes sage will deliver itself from the other side of the ocean, thousand of miles dis tant; and telegraphy has achieved an other triumph,— Chambers’s Journal. Boswell once asked Johnson if there was no possible circumstance under which suicide would be justifiable. “No,” was the reply. “Well,” says Boswell, “suppose a man had . been guilty of fraud that he was certain would be found out.” “Why, then,” says Johnson, “in that case let him go to some country where he is not known, and not to the devil, where he is know.” Tried and True. The inexhaustible romance of emigra tion, of wMch in modem days our coun try is almost always the objective point, has its latest recorded illustration iu a quiet little story recently made piiblic through the circumstances of its grati fying conclusion.’ Several years ago, in one of the mid land counties of [England, the son of a poor clergyman became enamored of a young lady named Moss, who lived in London, but was at tbat time passing yfclie summer with her aunt, one of the minister’s parishioners. Miss Moss was most graciously disposed toward her rural adorer, and as he was a gentleman by birth and a welcome guest in the most respectable country houses the so ciety of the village recognized, there was no incompatibility in the affair. Upon her return to London, however, the young lady, whose father was a wealthy merchant, received so little sympathy from h er family in the affair of the h eart which she had to disclose to them, that she felt impelled to write rather disconsolately to h e r lover on the subject; and when he, upon hastening to the metropolis to present himself, was received with repellant coldness b y the parents, the prospect- for the lovers seemed unpromising enough. Not to be thus dismissed, though, the Clergyman’s son obtained a private in terview with the reluctant merchant, and stoutly asked why he was not eligible for the alliance he desired. The blunt answer was that Ms worldly circum stances were not suitable. He was poor and likely to remain so, and should seek a wife adapted to his means. Deeming the concluding piece of advice gratu itous, the lover took leave of the father with no great cordiality; but upon bid ding adieu to Ms lady-love, asked her very earnestly if she would promise to wait for him until he should have gained for Mmself the means and position nec essary to change the parental decision. The answer was as affirmative as earn est, and, without further explanation, the rejected suitor said a hurried good- by. Miss Moss heai’d no more of him until nearly three months thereafter, when a letter bearing an American post mark amazed her with the information that he had crossed the Atlantic to seek the appointed fortune, and had high hopes of soliciting the fulfillment of her promise in about two years. A half-brother of his father was a merchant in Leavenworth, Kansas, and had given him countenance and general assistance by wMch he was sanguine that he could not fail to speculate suc cessfully in city psoperty. Only let her remain faithful to him and in two years her father should see Mm in London again with plenty of money in his pock ets. She answered appropriately, with a faith in the future as unworldly as Ms own, and from thenceforth their letters passed each other on the ocean by every steamer. The stoiy of American fortune-making by immigrants has not much variety. Occasionally the dream is at least p a rt ly realized, but as a general thing de ferred hope is the burden of the song. The young Englishman in Kansas was always just about to do better, b u t the time of actual golden consummation never chanced to come. Two years and three years and four rolled on, and still he remained on this side of the sea and wrote hopeful letters. During this time his father, the clergyman, died, leavin; an estate so meagre to the widow am daughter that the exile could not think of going back to his old home as poor as when he left. But the father of Miss Moss departed this life also, and about three months ago the true-hearted heir ess wrote to her-finally desponding lov er that, as he could not go to her, she had decided to ‘come to him. Accordingly, the spirited young lady, disregarding the still urgent objections of her kindred, and leaving a London home of luxury and refinement, crossed the Atlantic alone, and on Sunday last arrived at a hotel in Leavenworth, where her y et impecunious lover was to, and of course did, meet her. They were married on the same day, and it may be added, that their journey will be back to the old country. A serious tempor ary sacrifice was involved, of course, in the fair voyager’s bold trip to this coun try on such an errand; but, as already noted, she is now an heiress; her array of traveling trunks is spoken of as some thing wonderful, and the reunited, lov ers will return to their native land, as husband and wife, in the glow of a ro mance to which riches will give all nec essary gentility. Love Lore* January.—The 1st of January is one of- the earliest days ’in the year you can take a wife on, if you want to. If yQU really want two, though, you can’t, be cause it is not legal. February. -Feathered songsters choose their mates. This month they piok them, presently they will peck them. Go thou and do likewise. March.—Don’t believe the woman who says she will give you .her heart this month. It is not given—it’s Lent! April.—The 1st is All-Fool’s Day. TMs is the day to make promises of marriage, and accept accommodation bills. Go it! May.—Trusting maidens, don’t be lieve in a cMmney 3 weep’s suit this month! The fellow will most likely wash it all off on May-day. June.—The longest day occurs this month. Take care it doesn’t come in the latter end of your honey-moon. July.—Eveiy dog has his day this month. Bachelor dog-days are num- bored August.—The first mail, 1784 ! Poor fellow I , September. — Michaelmas - day this month. Wise geese keep close. October.—-Old Michaelmas-day used to fall on the 11 th of this month. Hoary-headed and unmarried old gand ers chuckle at the thought of their es- oape. November.—Mothers of large families should get their Guys off their hands, if .possible, this month. December.—If you have not been hooked before midnight on the 31st, you are safe for this year at least. Sights in Algiers. A writer in the .Gentleman’s Magazine chats pleasantly about what he saw in Algiers: Any of the streets ascending the hill from the Place de Chartres— which may almost be considered as the extreme limit of the European town— will lead immediately to the Mahometan quarter. Here will be found obscure and frequently vaulted narrow thorough fares, resembling alleys, bordered by houses, where the monotony of the bare plaster walls is only broken at .wide in tervals b y quite small easements crossed with iron bars, and low arched doorways. There are no gardens or verdure, and hardly a foot of even sickly-looking vine or fig tree dying amidst the rubbish of its oross-ways; there are mosques so surrrounded by buildings that they can hardly be seen, vapor baths whither people go mysteriously, the men at night, the women in the daytime. In^a word, the Mahometan quarter of Algiers is a compact and confused mass of ma sonry, where almost every vestige of life is hidden, and where it seems as if it were forbidden tbat gaiety should be heard. The doors of the houses are never opened but half way, and they then close again by their own weight. Every thinglooks suspicious about these curious buildings, .which are admirably adapted for their masters’ love of secre cy. The small casements looking on to the street are barred, and every kind of precaution is taken against ouriosity from without and indiscretion from within. Inside these bare, dismal-looking walls and massive doors, resemble the gates of citadels, and the two great mysteries of the country—namely, the personal fortune of its inhabitants, and its women, of either of which much is known. • Money hardly circulates. It is only seen passing from the hand of an Arab to an Arab hand, and is only used to purchase the ordinary daily necessities of life, a,nd jewelry. The women go out b u t seldom. In public they are invariably veiled, and the paths, which are their usual plaoes of resort, are inviolable. Passing along these lonely alleys, beside these silent dwell ings, one hears noise which are almost imperceptible to the .human ear, and whispers wMch might be mistaken for Bighs. At times it is the sound .of a voice coming through an aperture in the wall, or descending from the terrace on the roof of the house; at others it is the whimpering of a child complaininj in a strange tongue, whose liBp mingle with sobs has no signification for foreign e a r ; at others again it is the Btrain of an instrument whose unique note, slowly marking the measure of an unheard song, seems to accomprJny a dream. It is thus that the captive con soles Mmself, dreaming of a liberty which she has never had, and which she cannot understand. There is an Arab E rovCrb which says, “When a woman as seen the guest, she cares no more for h er husband,” ancbupon tMs precept the whole system of conjugal life among Mahometans is based. Their houses, whether they be agreeable or not to those by whom they are inhabited, whether their interiors be luxurious or poor, are prisons. They are like iron Bafes, of wMoh the avaricious masters have the keys, and within whioh they lock jip all their seci’ets, so that no one may know what they possess. One Result of Housekeeping. NotMng robs one of that sort ol personal vanity which youth is so apt to feel so soon as keeping house. If one never did that, it might be that the vain-glorious idea that it is a great thing to be the identical I whioh one happens to be, would never be properly modi fied ; bnt a, short experience of house keeping proves conclusively that one is only of importance according to one’s relation to each other folk. There is a potato;m an who plainly thinks that if'you do not take potatoes of him your mission on earth remains unfulfilled.. There is an ice company which feels that your destiny is to buy ice. There is a gas company, to which you are number twenty-four, such a street, and oan only prove your identity by depositing a certain sum of money in the company’s hands. You are “ the person that is being ainted” to the painter; and his notion ecomes literally true, if you enter your domicile in a hurry, forgetful of his pots’ and brushes. You are so much meat a week to the butcher, and so many dollars a month to the cook. In yourself you are notMng—sad or glad, tired, tormented, or in a.state of beauti'tude, it matters not to any of these people. You are the big macMne that winds the house up, winds food and furniture into it, and winds money out to pay for i t all. Oh for the golden dreams Of early outh, when dinner was as natural a, essing as sunrise, and one never’ thought where the tin pans and tea kettle came from ; when, in a white dress and blue sash, one could repose .upon a sofa, heedless of the rattle of ice- cart wheels or the howl of the milkman, unconscious of the awful days ahead, when every new arrival of the sort would be succeeded by a howl for “ missus,” and when one would be responsible for the sweetness of the butter, and the plentifulness of the green peas at that early season when they shell out small L e d g e r . ____________________ Odor of Rattlesnakes. A writer in Chamber’s Journal , refer ring to the peculiar and offensive odor given forth from the body of a rattle snake when the reptile is enraged, re-- calls a remarkable instance of escape, which may be credited to a knowledge of this fact, coupled, however, with presenoe of mind, which fully attones for the rashness of the act wMch called it into exercise. Dr. Hamilton Roe, having opened a box directed to the su perintendent of the Zoological Garden's, London, put his hand under the layer The ship Benares, wMch left Hong Kong for San Francisco on the 12th of September, has been wrecked, off the Loo Choo Islands, and all perished ex cept five. Items of Interest. An Ohio dairyman wishes to p atent the application of galvanism for the de struction of cheese mites. Provisions are so scarce in Corea that the natives willingly pay two young women for a bushel of grain. Never carry a grammar to the bank, under the impression th a t the teller will receive i t as. a parse book. The Amyntas was wrecked while going from Holyhead to Workington, and everyone oh board was lost. - The'rnan King, who confessed himself the murderer of Pook at Greenwich, England, has been found insane and dis charged. Theodore Brown, a farmer, living in Hendricks County, Indiana, killed his wife b y striking h er over the head with a chair, A tradesman of P aris has been sent to prison for two years for placing placards in Ms window insulting to the National Assembly. In Colorado, when a lady wears dia mond jewelry to any extent, she is alluded to by the local gusher as being well “ salted.” The Commissioner of Internal Reve nue wishes Congress to pass a bill ‘preventing the manufacture of imita tion wines without payment of tax by stamps.” • Young Willie (to whom dear Grandpa has just offered half a dollar). “ No, thank you, Grandad. You. stick to it a bit longer, arid layi ; out at Interest, and. I ’ll get all the more when you pop off, Old Man.” - People who believe the current stories about intelligent dogs, will read with leasure that a lost dog in Norfolk, Laving seen, his master’s advertisement -in one of the local prints, promptly went home. - - “Mary, my dear, ilaidy y° bl< of dry moss which appeared, .to see what was there. He touched sometMng alive, and the smell told him it was a rattle snake. Had he withdrawn his hand rapidly, he would have been bitten to a certainty, since the odor is only appa rent when the animal is enraged. Knowing this, he had the presence of mind to stroke the reptile, wMch allow ed him to take his hand gently away. So powerful and permanent is this oder that, when a shake is irritated, and made to bite the rake or hoe with wMch it is intended to kill him, the implement often retains the odor for months. said a doting nus- band to the la that owned Him, “if 1 turn Mormon and marry another help mate, she shall be -a Mary too, for your own dear sake !” “Be content with one Mary, my duck,” said the loving w ife; “in my opinion another would be merely a super-new-Mary.” The P resident of France Usually dines as follows r A plate of coup, the wing of a chicken, a few leaves of salad, a glass of claret, and bonbons ad libitum If he wishes to dine heartily be adds a mutton-chop. Instead of Champagne or liquors, he indulges in humorous conversation and sparkling witticisms. In the spring of 1871 Rev. Dr. C. J. Gibson, pastor of Grace Episcopal Church at Petersburgh, ,Ya., gaye to each of his 250 Sunday-scjiool scholars six grains of corn and directed them to plant it and send in the proceeds for foreign missions. The £om, on being delivered, was found to amount to about five barrels, worth about twenty doRars. The idea is novel, but really commend able. In Connecticut, a ceri ain justice was called to jail to liberate a wortMess debtor by receiving Ms oath that he .was n o t worth twenty dollars. “Well, Johnny,” said the justice, on entering, “can you swear that you are n o t worth twenty dollars, and that you never will be?” ‘‘Why, answered the other, rather chargrined at the question, “I can swear that I ’m not worth that amount at pres ent.” “Well, well,” returned the jus tice, “ I can swear to the rest, so go along Johnny.” And the man was sworn ana discharged. ; The Extirpation of tko Buffalo. Secretary Delano takes® new and in structive view of the question of the prospective .extirpation • of the bison. W ith a heartless disregard of the rights of the noble .sportfcmen, who feel that they have lived in vain ii Uhey have not proved their valor by chasing buffalo- cows on the slopes of the Rocky Moun tains, he suggests that the sooner the game is disposed of the b etter for civili zation. His argum ent' is# tbat the In dians will continue more, or less intract able while the hunting-grounds remaiij; but, as theyhecome convinced that they can no longer rely upon-the supply of game for their support, they will turn to the more equable source of subsist ence furnished at the agencies, and en deavor to live so that the supply will be regularly, dispensed. Stripped of its verbiage, this means simply that the only way to\ civilize the red man is to starve him into submission. However than ®-Modicum of truth. With a few exceptional cases, such as the Cherokees and Creeks, the Indians have shown no disposition to abandon, their vagrant habits; but, following the wild herds from, which they have derived their sub sistence, for centuries, they have wan dered westward year by year before the wHte man’s advance, preferring to pick, np a scanty, chance subsistence, rather than to stoop to manual labor. Thus bison and savage are travelling rapidly the road to extinction; and the child is born to whom both will be almost as much an' object of curiosity in our country as the elephant\ is now. . Full-Dress Coiffures. The stylish JosepMne coiffure is al ready preferred to the Pompadour, and for full dresB, prevails almost without exception. Old-fashioned side-combs are worn at the back of the neck, to keep the hair up smoo.thly; the hair is lightly tied together, and arranged in a cluster Of light, fihger-ptiffs at the top of the head. A braided, coronet is worn above the forehead, and light, trifling frizzes are in favor among ladies with low, broad brows. A very striking coif fure is m a d e 'b y placing three long and very light finger puffs lengthwise above the forehead. Flowers are worn upon the top of the head, but this style, though dictated by \fashion 'is often deviated from, and those to whom the extra height is un- becoming^place flowers, aigrettes, etc., at the left side, just back pf the ear. Carved combs of tortoise-shell have been restored of late, bnt these have been followed by cheap and ungraceful\ imitations which have lessened the pop ularity of the real. All kinds of orna mental combs, however, are in more or less favor, and many of these, of gilt, and enamel are handsome of themsfelves. A moderate wearing of curls is not forbidden, and all arrangements of the H • I V 1 1 , _ ^ ^ >*. -- - - -■ AAV w «.« A. A
