{ title: 'Cape Vincent eagle. (Cape Vincent, N.Y.) 1872-18??, March 28, 1878, Page 1, Image 1', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031538/1878-03-28/ed-1/seq-1/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031538/1878-03-28/ed-1/seq-1.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031538/1878-03-28/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn83031538/1878-03-28/ed-1/seq-1/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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§x&e finctnt MH^* FUBHSHBD KV-JSKT THCBSDAY, OAPE VINQENT, N. Y., BY CHARLES B. WOOD, BOltor and Proprietor, So THkom all lottos should bo addroMefl. AH correspoailenoo and advertbieawita »hould r*alh BO Tuesanf mornlni to Insure puWloattao, JOE WOBK A 8FBCIAXTY. OHATJLES B. WOOD, Editw. Home and. Home Interests. TEEMS i $1,50 II ADYAIOE. YOL. YI. CAPE YINGENT, N. Y., THURSDAY, MARCH 28, 1878. NO. 51. $*pe fiiuent §ngh. KATES OJT ADVERXISXKClt WAGE. lttob... 9 Inches 9 Inches 4 Inches cinches a ML... 1 Col.... 1 w. f T5 IK ITS 8 til) BUB 0110 10 00 2 W. $120 1TB Sl» SS5 400 TOO IS 00 8 W. $1TB 2 55 S5B 4(10 4 TB SOO 14.01 IB. 5 3 20 STB 400 4T5 6 04 900 10 05 3 m. S 4 00 BS8 TOO 800 000 loop SB 00 In, S ceo 800 9 00 10 00 1S09 ssoo an IT. « S0(| 13 00 14 08 loco saw 46 00 SO 00 Business Cards, five Unas or lees, $B.oo a year. Artvcrtlsomects in Local Column, ton cents per line the first we**; and ny» cents pernor auou subsequent Insertion. Obituary Notices -will bo charged flvo oocts per Hue for all oyer ttx lines. Notices of Marriages and Deaths inserted free. SUNSET. How beautiful the quiet hour Whioh olosing daylight brings I When o'er the earth a golden shower The glow ng sunset flings ! Upon the lofty mountain's brow A faded gory lies j Whila from t e tree-decked va'e below T..e dewy vapors rise. A peaceful balm breathes through tho air That lulls the aching breaBt; That aootueB the t urden ohild of care, And gives the weary rest 1 The anxious thoughts that cloud 'he day, ti ke startled shadows glide, And fada beneath the softening ray Of tranquil eventide. Who Stole the Money. I have lfMU'»edjJln.Jaip.coujisi« . at.XQ.y~ --—JJS,\*F -\•rsl^rleiioi.fc \lat circTuTiscantiai evidence alone - -Ai dangerous theory upon whioh to base conviction in crimi- nal cases. I have known several eases in which the innocent have been gross- ly wronged through this means, a very- plausible Instance, I remember, being in substance as follows: A pale, scared boy, some fourteen years old, was brought Into the munici- pal court, i n a neighboring city, one rnorning,evidently in great tribulation, who was arraigned upon a charge of theft in his employer's store, \What is your name?\ asked the judge, quietly. ''Johnny Brigg8,\sftid the boy, hum- bly. \Where do you live?\ \Down'tNorth End, sir.\ \Now Mr. Clerk, what i s the case ?\ said the judge, with some interest. \The old story, your honor,\ replied the clerk, familiarly, \Thieving. He's stolen a pocketbook, and won't give any aocouut of it.\ \Where are the witnesses ?\ \Here your honor. The loser of the money, and the boy's late employer.\ \Has he no counsel—no friend in court?\ \I haven't seen any, your honor; and lie don't look as if he were overburd- ened i n that way,\ replied the clerk, sarcastically. \Proceed with the evidence?\ The child's employer took the stand first, and stated the case. He was a well-dressed man, but had hard features—a worldly-minded, self- ish-appearing person—and thus testi- fied : \A stranger cameintomy store, your honor, and^made a. purchase. He paid iliB 'thirty SioHtUay-VicksiroJ Lis {JOOJsi sent home, and went out, but returned in a short time for his pocketbook, which he missed directly, and was cer- tain he had left it on the counter, care- lessly. This boy, Johnny, yonder, had been with me but a few weeks, and I noticed that he hurried away out of the shop immediately, and I did notsoe him for three days afterward. There was nobody in the store at that time but Johnny and I. The money was gone, and I did notsteal it. He has been able to give me no account of it, or rather, refused to do so, and there can be no doubt that he is the thief. I took him out of the street, and set him to work out of charity, and this is the return he • makes me. He was a poor vagrant, and has deoeived me.\ \Is that all, sir?\ \Y es, your honor,\ The owner of the money then stated that the merchant's testimony was cor- rect. He had lost seventy dollars in the manner described—that he saw no one in the store but this boy and his master, and the lad had disappeared on his im- mediate return to the store, upon dis- covering his loss. He was very positive he had not taken the wallet with him, but remembered just where he left it upon the counter, near where this Johnny was ongaged putting up the goods. He had no shadow of doubt that he had purloined it and got away with i t during his brief absence, for he had not been seen about his business for three days afterwards by anybody, and he noticed that the boy seemed un- easy and restless during his stay there. He could not afford to lose this money, and thought such young rogues should be made on example of. \Now my boy,\ said tho judge, \have you anything to say ? YOH have heard the testimony of your former em- ployer, and this person who has lost his money, and the case is very much against you. Do you wish to say any- thing, or explain, eh?\ The little fellow was so much alarmed at the apparent severity of his honor, though be Was a just man, and a good judge, and did not intend to in- timidate the culprit at all, as I knew from a long acquaintance with his grave but sterling character—the boy was so confused that he said: \No sir; I can't.\ \It is a kind of case,\ said bis honor, that is getting lamentably common among us, and we must do our duty, in the endeavor to check the growth of this evil. Mr. Clerk, I shall commit this boy to the House of Correction for one year.\ And the judge arose to adjourn the court. \May it please your honor,\ 1 said respectfully, \will you allow me, be- fore this sentence is officially recorded, to address the court briefly?\ \Oortainly Mr. S. ,\ replied his honor, pleasantly. \Do you know anything of this case?\ \No your honor, I have never seen any of these parties until this hour. But the lad does not look like a thief to my vision, and he has no friends to say a word for him here. I have listened to the testimony, and with the utmost deference t o your hon- or's judgment in the case, Irespectfully suggest that the evidence against the boy, though very plausible and connect- ing, is but circumstantial.\ . 'Very dangerously so,\ suggested the cpurt, civilly. ''I admit that, your honor,\ I said, frankly. \And though it is scarcely within the ordinary rules of courts at this late stage of the business, I pray the court to allow me, on this trembling frightened boy's behalf, to ask the last witness i n this case a few brief ques- tions.\ \Certainly; there is no objections, sir.\ And I had the loser of the money -..{.otrfche stftnd agaiu'dirgctly, • \You say yo;> misSeu your pocketbook after leaving the 'Store, sir?\ I in- quired. \Yes sir—with seventy dollars in ft;\ ,' \You are sure you didn't take i t with you when you went?\ ' \No sir, I did not.\ \You might have done so.\ • \But I didn't, sir.\ \Yon couldn't have dropped it, then, in your hurry as you went?\ \I didn't have it. I left it on the counter, near where the boy was put- ting up the goods, and I've no question that he took it.\ ' \You came back; how goon ?\ ! \Within five minutes or so.\ • \And the boy was gone?\ \Yes sir, and the pocketbook,\ added the witness sharply. \That's all, sir,\ i remarked. And the gentleman sat down. I had not made much progress as yet, but I next asked the lad to stand up, when I spoke to him kindly, and said: . \Johnny why did you hurry out that night as he says you did?\ '\Cause mother was dreadful sick,\ •said he tearfully; \an' me an' my little Neddy was all that she had to take care of her. An'I went straight home anddid'ntknow nothin' 'bout no money no way.\ \You went home because your mother was sick. How long has she 'heen sick?\ \A good while, sir.\ . \But why didn't you return to your work? Why were you absent three days just then ?\ \Mother's dead, sir,\ said the boy, sadly. \When did she die?\ \That nighty sir. An'I staid away 'cause 1 had to go to her funeral with Neddy, an' he's all alone now sir?\ \And you know nothing of this lost pooketbook?\ \I have never seen it in all my life, sir; an' I don't steal nothin'—never, for poor mother alius said I must be honest ef I starved; and God would knew i t ef nobody else found i t out; an' 'at wicked boys go t o the bad place, sir. I never stole nothin', sir—never.\ And here the little fellow burst into tears, and could say uo more. While I —I confess it—was wiping my oivn eyes, briefly, 1 observed that his honor was actually busily engaged in the same occupation But the court room was close, and it was a warm day. Perhaps it was perspiration. \Your honor,\ I said, after a moment of silence and clearing of the throat, \the prosecution hero have surely no cause for conviction. I don't believe this boy knows any more of this lost money than you or I do. It has not been found iu his possession; he had no chance to spend it; no one testifies that he ever had it, save on suspicion; and I. cannot think your honor will imprison this ehlld, who has so touchingly though innocently explained himself, upon what is, at the most, but circumstan- tial evidence. He says he is parentless and I think your honor will uot doubt this assertion. The dead mother, whose form he has just laid under the sod, was plainly a good, true woman, and John had not been taught at home to b e a thief, evidently. I crave the leniency of the court i n this lad's behalf, and I ask that Johnny may be discharged, since there is n o direct evidence against him.\ \You can go, Johnny,\ said the clerk, with unusual pleasantness for him, a moment afterwards, as the judge said something briefly to his subordi- nate, and immediately adjourned the court, to the evident astonishment of the boy's accuser. I shook the poor fellow's handy took him out of the courtroom with me, told him who I was, a t his own request, and saw him running down the street as fast as his little legs would carry him, soon after the reversed decision of his honor. The result of my voluntary ef- fort i n this affair was very gratifying to me, for I felt assured the boy was inno- cent. But the most agreeable part of the \case\ was yet in store for me. About a month afterwards a poorly dressed lad entered my law office, one cold, raw morning, cap in hand, whom I quickly recognized as Johnny, who said: \Good morning, Mr. S . You was kind enough to help me out, in the court, t'other day, sir.\ \Yes I remember you. Come to the fire, Johnny.\ \Thank you, sir. It's pooty cold) sir.\ \Very. Where's your overcoat.\ \A what sir?\ \Your coat. Outside jacket.\ \Bless you, I hain't got none. But I don't mind it. I'm used to it, sir. I only came to thank you sir, an' to tell you that it's all right about the pocket- book. Til's man's found it.\ \Where? How?\ I asked, with deep interest. \Well 1 did i t up, in my hurry to get off that night, in one of his big bun- dles that he bought. He didn't And it for a week, 'cos he didn't open the par- cel at home that it got worked into somehow, I don't know how. But he went and told my master about it—who turned me oft', you know, for stealin' it» when I didn't know nothin' 'bout it— and one of the shop-boys told me of i t yesterday.\ I congratulated the lad, and then in- duced him t o give me his history. He was now an orphan—an intelli- gent but uneducated boy, and one who had been bred i n poverty, but honestly His good mother's counsels and teach- ings had had a sfAutary effect upon his mind, and an influence which was last- ing, I conceived. He was out of work and wanted employment. I recom- mended him to a neighbor, aud secured him a good place subsequently. He was always very grateful to me for the Service I had so accidentally rendered him i n court, and he proved a thoroughly honest and good servant in the years that followed that little inci- dent. This event is one which confirms me in my opinion that i t is unsafe to con- vict upon ciroumstantial evidenceonly. I A Historic Duel. In 1824 John Quincy Adams was elected President, and Henry Clay, who had been one of the rival candidates, made Secretary of State. Thisappoint- ment aroused John Randolph's indig- nation, and he publicly denounced i t as a \combination between the Puritan and the blackleg.\ Clay could do no less than send a challenge, which was accepted, and yet both were old enough to know better, for Randolph was fifty- three, while Clay was only four years younger. The evening before the duel, Randolph sent for Gen. Hamilton of South Carolina, and told him he in- tended t o receive Clay's Are without re- turning it, adding, \nothing shall in- duce me to harm a hair of his head. I will not make his wife a widow nor his children orphans.\ His eyes then filled with tears, and after a brief conversa- tion his visitor took his leave, but re- turned at midnight. He found Ran- dolph reading \Paradise Lost,\ on whose beauties he began to expatiate in his usually eloquent manner. The duel was then mentioned, and Ran- dolph's decision was objected to, since Ms second had rofuseil'to see him shot down in such a manner. \Well sir,\ said Randolph, \if I see the devil in Clay's eye and malice prepense to take my life, then I may change my mind.\ The next afternoon the meeting took place on the banks of the Potomac; Randolph saw no \devil i n Clay's eye,' but the calm expression of a man who felt the importance of bis honor. Says Hamilton, \I shall never forget the scene as long as I live, Here were two of the most extraordinary men our country had produced, about to meet i n mortal combat. I took Randolph's hand .while the pistols were heing loaded, but felt not the quivering of one pulsation. He turned to me and said, 'Clay is calm, but uot vindictive. I hold my purpose, Hamilton—remember this.' The meeting was soon consum- mated. Clay fired without effect, and Randolph discharged .his pistol In the air. As soon as Clay saw this, he in- stantly approached his former antago- nist and exclaimed with ill-concealed sensibility, \I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched. After what has occurred I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds.' \ They parted, and never were embittered by political strife. Soon after Randolph retired from Congress, and on his last visit to Washington he held a final interview with his former opponent, which was of a tender character. Randolph claimed Pocahontas among his earliest American ancestry. He was conscious of his own vagaries, and lived in frequent dread of insanity. Both he and Clay died in the communion of the Episcopal church, and are buried, the one at Ashland, and the other in his native Roanoke. It may be added that John Randolph was foreman of the grand jury which indicted Aaron Burr for treason at Richmond more than seventy years ago. Instinct of Birds. Notwithstanding many opinions to the contrary, it seems certain that birds often die a natural death. One reason why their bodies are so rarely found is, that on the approach of death their in- stinct prompts them to keep away in some hole or under cover, where there would be least liable to fall- a prey to their natural enemies. It is doubtful if any of the game birds, like the pi- geon and grouse, ever die of old age, or the semi-game birds, like the bobo- link, or the \century-living\ crow; but i n what other form can death over- take the humming-bird, or even the swift and the barn swallow ? Such are true birds of the air; they may be oc- casionally lost at sea during their mi- grations, but, so far as I know, they are not preyed upon by any other spe- cies. Humming Birds. The humming birds form one com- pact family named Trochilidse. They are all small birds, the largest known being about the size of a swallow, while the smallest are minute creatures whose bodies are hardly larger than a bumble- bee. Their distinguishing features are excessively shorif legs and feet, very long and pointed wings, a long and slender bill and a long extensible tubular tongue; and these characters are found combined i n [no other birds. The feet are exceedingly small and deli- cate, often beautifully tufted with down arid so short as toibe hardly visible be- yond theplumagOo-The toes are placed in most birds^ three in front and one behind, and havje very strong and sharply curved cl;»~S, and the feet serve probably to cling t o their perch rather than to support \i> J weight of the body. The wings are long and narrow, but strongly formed, and the first quill is the longest, a peculiarity found in hardly any other birds but a few of the swifts. Th$ bill varies greatly in length, but is always long, slender, and pointed, the upper mandible being the widest and lapping over the lower at each side, thus affording ample protec- tion to the delicate tongue, the perfect action of which is essential t o that bird's existence. The humming bird's tongue is very long, and lis capable of being greatly extended beyond the beak and rapidly drawn back, by means of muscles which are attached to the hyoid or tongue bones, and bend round over the back and top of the head to the very forehead, just as in the woodpeckers. The two blades, or laminae, of which the tongues of birds usually seem to be formed, are here • greatly, lengthened, broadened out, and each rolled up, so as to form a complete double tube, con- nected down the middle, and with the outer edgRS in contact, but not united. The extremities of the tubes are, how- ever, flat and fibrous. This tubular and retractile tongue enables the bird to suck up honey from the nectaries of flowers, and also to capture small in- sects ; but whether the latter pass down the tubes or are entangled in the fibrous tips, and thus draw back into the gullet is not known. The only other birds with a similar tubular tongue are the sun birds of the east, which, however, have no affinity whatever with these humming birds- An tmfailing Sign. \What makes you think they're en- gaged, Mrs. Berkley?\ asked the neighbor. \Has Julia's mother ever intimated anything ofii&e'kmdtoyou?\ \Oh dear, gracious, no. She never so much as hinted it,\ replied Mrs. Berkley. \Then what makes you think it's all settled between 'em? It ain't over three months since he commenced waiting on her'.\ \That don't make any difference— they've known each other for two or three years. She's as likely a girl as any—not bad looking, and he's—\ \Yes—yes; all true enough. But what makes you think they're engaged ? That's what puzzles me.\ \Why la, ble3s you, I know it as well as if I'd heard the whole bargain with my own ears.\ \Go on—go on.\ \Yes as 1 was saying, last Sunday afternoon, my Marthy met 'em out walking together and stopped to chat with 'sm a minute. As soon as she got home and told me they had both been eating onions, I knew it was all ar- ranged, and I shan't be a bit surprised to hear any day that the cards are out for a speedy wedding. A sign like that never fails \ —Ten persons, each over one hun- dred years old, died in New York city last year. —A daughter of General Rosecrans has just died at the Ursuline Convent, St. Martins, Ohio. The Cagots. This people have always been a puzzle to ethnologists. They are a sort of Pariah race, outwits, living in the northern slopes of the Pyrenees. Since the Middle Ages they have been a shunned race, aud the objects of gen- eral aversion. They were kept separate at church and at market. It was even said that they differed from ordinary men; it was believed that their ears were of a peculiar shape. These out- casts lived in a distinct quarter. In some churches they entered at a special door, aud the beadle served them holy water at the end of a stick. Their con- tact was pollution, and whatever they touched was unclean. They were com- pelled to wear the badge of a duck's or goose's foot, i n redclotb, on their dingy gaberdines. A Cagot who dared to touch a sacred vessel in church, had his hand out off and nailed to the ;church door. They could not intermarry with their neighbors; and a lord in the eighteenth century committed a mortal offense by marrying a pretty Cagot girl. Their oath was scarcely allowed in a court of justice. Up to the time of Louis XIV. they were such outcasts that they were not taxed. Their condition is ameliorated now* but they are still a separate people'; they are strictly \endogamous\ and the reason is obvious; no girl of the district will marry a Cagot. If he would shake off the curse he must emigrate. But they may freely go to church. One tradition of the origin of the Cagots is that they are decendants of the wounded men who fought in the great battles in the passes of the Pyrenees, who never found their way out of the valley; that their ancestors were in the fight of RoncevauxJ where Roland fell. Some historians trace them back to Clovis's time, and make them \dogs of Goths,\ descended from the men defeated i n the battle of Vouille. The suggestion that they are Albigenses is negatived by the. faot they were Cagots before there were Albigenses heretics. Light is thrown upon the origin of this singular people b y the investigation of M. De Boohas, published recently in Sevue des Deux MouSes. • The Cagots are not confined to the Pyrenees. They are found i n Brittany aud in Poitou. They were called \gafos\ in Spain, and \cacous\ i n Britauy. It appears that \gafo\ in Spanish means a leper and that \kakod\ has the same meaning in ancient Breton. It is, therefore, now suggested that they were once either lepers o r suspected of leprosy. Leprosy was a disease that raged in the medlseval ages and the persons afflicted were out- lawed. M. De Bocha3 believes that the Cagots are decendauts, not exactly of lepers, but the persons outlawed, be oause they suffered from a feebler type of disease into which leprosy degener- ated. But the most curious physiological fact in connection with these people remains to be stated. A London paper says: \It is held by some authorities that maladies do tend to work them- selves out, and thus leprosy dwindled Into unseemly but not deadly forms, which, i n their turn, have quite disap- peared from among the modern Cagots. This hypothesis has much to recommend it. It i s strange, however, that in com- munities of some three hundred people, who have married i n and i n from time immemorial, the average of health and vigor should be high. All Cagots are nominally, 'cousins' of each other, aud there may be theorists to whom the continued existence of such a stock will seem not less mysterious than the origin of their outlawry.\ This fact would seem to upset some theories about heredity and ''breeding in.\ *4*\« A. Mistake. \Mistakes will happen i n the best of families.\ A man with abasket on his arm stepped into a store yesterday, and asked the clerk: \What is the price of spring chickens ?\ Clerk—$1.50 for good ones. Man—Do you know, my fine fellow, that you made a mistake this morning when I was trading with you ? Clerk—A mistake! Man—Yes, sir; a very serious mis- take. Clerk—Why, I don't remember what it was. Man—A mistake sir, that your em- ployer would not tolerate for a mo- ment. Clerk—Well, sir, what is it? Spit it out. \ ' Man—A mistake, sir, that would be considerable, if it had happened to any other man, but, sir, I have always made it a rule to correct mistakes, even if they are in my favor. Clerk (excited)—For goodness sake, what's the matter ? Man—I have been put to considerable trouble to rectify it. Clerk—What in thunder is the mis- take? Man—You know I purchased this morning one dozen eggs ? Clerk—Yes. Man—For which I paid you eight cents. Clerk—Yes. Man—Well, sir, when I arrived home I discovered that you had made a mis- take. Clerk—Well, what is it? Man—Instead of a dozen eggs you had put up a dozen spring chickens (un- covering the basket and showing a doz- en broken eggs in various stages of de- velopement), and as the price of spring chickens is $1.60, and eggs only 8 cents, a clean difference of $1.42, and not wishing t o wrong you or your omploy- er, nor having any desire to go into the poultry business, I have brought them back, and will gladly exchange them for eggs, as I consider it only a mistake on your part - Clerk (takes the basket and empties the contents in the street, puts in a dozen eggs and hands the man a cigar. The clerk winks out of his right eye)— Don't say anything about this. Man (winks out of his left)—Oh, that's all right. (Exit.) A Useful Tramp, Sometime, ago about bedtime, a rather seedy individual, whose outer garments betokened an eternal estrangement from his washerwoman, called at farmer B's in Berks county, Pa. aud requested lodging for the night. Mr. B. did not have any rooms suitable for the traveler, but offered some old blankets and the hay mow. These were thankfully accep- ted, and the tramp was soon soundly asleep in the hay. About midnight two men, having only vague ideas of meum and tuum, drove a team and wagon to the barn, and commenced stealthily and noiselessly to fill the wagon with twen- ty-two or twenty-three bags of wheat which Mr. B. had ready for market next day. They had all loaded up save aflve bushel sack, standing i n a corner, which they had yainly tried to lift. \Let us go; we can't load it,\ said oneof them. The tramp about this moment happened to awake, and considering the above an appeal t o his manhood, arose out of the hay saying, \I'll help you!\ The men, at the appearance of the king of shreds and patches issuing from the dark cor- ner, both flew from the premises, leav- ing horses, wagon and all behind them. The tramp groused up Mr. B., who, coming t o the barn, at once recognized the team as belonging to a man living not a thousand miles away. They are still in Mr. B.'s possession. Sue \Ranted Two. There is no reason why the inventor of a remedy t o \cure the worst case of catarrh inside of five minutes\ shouldn't feel i t his duty to place a bottle of the same i n every person's hand—\price twenty-five cents; no cure no pay.\ Therefore, the long-legged chap who pulled a door-bell on John R. street yesterday had iri'he of that timidity in his bearing wljich characterizes rag buyers, lightnfiifcrod men and solicitors for the fire sufferers.' He had a good thing and he knew it. When the door opened and a hard-featured woman about forty years of age confronted him he pleasantly went to business and asked:— \Madam is your husband ever trou-* hi : . ith the catarrh?\ • _ • — a man who has been dead seven years be troubled.with the catarrh I \ she grimly replied. \But the children are liable to be at- tained a t any hour this season,.\ he re- marked. \Whose children?\ \Yours madam.\ . \I never had any, sir! What brought you here, anyway ? Why do you cojne asking these questions ? \ \Madam I have compounded a rem- edy for the catarrh. It is a good thins*. I'll warrant it to knock any case of. catarrh sky-high in less than five min- utes.\ \Well sir, what is all this to me?\ \Why madam—why—\ he stam- mered. \Do I look as if I needed any catarrh remedies?\shedemanded as she step- ped out on the platform. \Madam I would not for the world have you think that I thought you had the catarrh, but I suppose the fair and lovely can be attacked as well as the strong and brave.\ '•And what have I got t o do with all that rigmarole ? Who are you, sir, and what do you want?\ \Madam he whispered, backing down one step, \I have a compound remedy for the catarrh.\ \Whose catarrh, sir?\ \Madam I am selling my catarrh—\ \Where is your catarrh—where is it?\ she interrupted. , He got down on the second step and softly began:— \Madam I have a sure cure for the catarrh and I am selling lots of it.\ • \Well what do 1 care? Must you ring my door-bell and tell me that you are selling lots of catarrh medicine?\ He got down on the walk, clear of the steps, and he tried hard to look beautifully around the mouth as he ex- plained : \Madam didiT't 1 ask you if your husband was ever troubled with catarrh?\ \Yes sir, aud didn't I reply that he was dead? Do you want to see his grave, sir?\ \No madam, I do not. I am sorry he's dead, but my catarrh remedy can't help him any. Good by, madam.\ \Here sir, hold on a minute!\ she called; \what was your business with me?\ \Why I have a remedy for the catarrh.\ \So you said before.\ \I asked you if you didn't want to purchase and—\ \You are a falsifier, sir—you never asked me to purchase I \ \Do—you—want—a—bottle?\ he slowly asked. \Yes sir, give me two of them; here's your money 1 Next time you want to sell your catarrh remedy don't begin to talk about the discovery of America by Columbus. Hero you've bothered me fifteen minutes and put all my work behind, and it's good for you that I didn't bring the broom to the door!\ He retreated backward through the gate, his left eye squinted up aud his mouth open. He shut the gate, leaned over i t and looked long at the front door. By and by he said:— \Darn 'em 1 You can never tell where to find 'em I\ FOOD FOK THOUGHT. Christian Names in England. In looking through many volumes of county records, I have, of course, seen many thousands and tens of thousands of proper names, belonging to men of all ranks and degrees—to noblemen, justices, jurymen, witnesses, sureties, inn-keepers, hawkers, paupers, va- grants, criminals, and others—and in no single instance, down to the end of the reign of Anne, have I noticed any person bearing more thin one Christian name. The first instance occurs in 1717, when Sir Coplestone Warwick Bamfield appeared among the justices who attended the Mid-Summer Sessions at Exeter. The first instances which I have met with i n any other place are those of Henry Frederick, Earl of Ar- undel, born i n 1608, and Sir Henry Fred- erick Thynne, who was created a bar- onet i n 1641. Both these must, have been named after the eldest son of James I., who was of course, born in Scotland. No other child of James bore two Christian names, nor did any child of Charles I., except Henrietta Maria, named after her mother, who was aFrench woman. No king of Eng- land bore two Christian names before William III., who was a Dutchman. It seems probable that the practice of giving children two Christian names was utterly unknown in England be- fore the accession of the Stuarts; that it was very rarely adopted down to the time of the Revolution, and that i t nev- er became common until after the Han- overian family was seated on the throne. Peace is the evening star of the soul, as virtue is its sun. and the two are never far apart. The shortest day of the year comes in winter—fit emblem of our life, at once dark, cold and short. In religion, not to do as thou sayest is to unsay thy religion i n thy deeds and to undo thyself by doing. Our sorrows are like thunder-clouds, whicn seem black in tho distance, but grow lighter as they approaoh. Virtue does not give talents, but sup- plies their place. Talents neither give virtue nor supply the place of it. Nothing is more common than to try to reconcile our conscience to our evil thoughts by our good conscience. Some people live with purposes, and some pass through the world like a straw on a river—mere passengers. Some people have--/.oftening of the brain, but the worJ4. Suffers more from those who have hardening of the heart. The treasures of the deep are not so precious as are the concealed comforts of, atnan locked up i n a woman's lovs. The rich find relations i n the most re- mote foreign countries; the poor not even i n the bosoms of their own fami- lies. We may have many acquaintances, but few friends; this made Aristotle say that he that hath many friends hath none. The prison is shut night and day, yet it is always full; the temples are always open, and yet you find no one i n them. He that has tasted the bitterness of sin will fear to commit it; and he that hath felt the sweetness of mercy will fear to offend it. Real sorrow is almost as difficult to discover as real poverty. Aninstinotive delicacy hides the rags of the one and the wounds of the other. If the heart does not go with the head, the best thoughts give only the light. This is why science is so little persua- sive and probity so eloquent. He that discovers himself till he hath made himself master of his desires lays himself open to his own ruin, and makes himself prisoner to his own tongue, The real wants of nature are the mea- sure of enjoyments, as the foot is the measure of the shoe. We can oall only the want of what is necessary poverty. A weak mind sinks under prosperity as well as under adversity. A strong man has two highest tides—when the moon is at the full and whe n there is no moon. Happiness between man and wife can only be seoured by that constant ten- derness and care of the parties for each other which are based upon warm and demonstrative love. It will not always do to spoak the plain truth. If a man were set out by calling everything by its proper name, he would be knocked down before he Love teaches cunning even to inno- cence; and, when he gets possession, his first work is to dig deep within. a heart and there lie hid, and, like a miser in the dark, t o feast alone. Wit loses its respect with the good when seen i n company with malioe; and to smile a t the jest which plants a thorn i n another's breast is to become a principal iu the mischief. When the Breton mariner puts to sea his prayer is, \Keep me, my God; my boat is so small and the ocean so wide.\ Does not this beautiful prayer truly ex- press the condition of us ? If we would have powerful minds, we must think; if we would have faithful hearts, we must love; if we would have strong muscles, we must labor. These include all that is valuable i n life. Heat and animosity, contest and con- flict may sharpen the wits, although they rarely do; they never strengthen the understanding, clear the perspi- cacity, guide the judgment, or improve the heart. Sleep, thou repose of all things; sleep, thou gentlest of the deities; thou peace of the mind, from which care flies; who dostsoothe the hearts of men wearied with the toils of tho day, and refittest them for labor. It is not possible to be regarded with tenderness but b y few. The merit which gives greatness and renown diffuses its influence to a wide compass, but acts weakly on every single breast; it is placed at a distance fsom common spec- tators, and shines like one of the re- mote stars, of which the light reaches us, but not the heat. The safety and progress of humanity depends upon each man's filling his appointed place—no matter how humble it seems—well. We are all workers— each class is dependent upon the other. The rude fisherman of the Northern sea, as a great English writer has finely said, collects the oil which fills the scholar's lamp in the luxurious capital, three thousand miles away. They who have good health and ligfc-f breathing, whose system is so sound that they know not they have a system, have little turn for disquisition on health and respiration. But, just as sickness and disease have compelled men to study the bodily frameword, so doubt and mental entanglement have forced men to go into abtruse questions, in order to meet, the philosophy of de- nial with a counter philosophy of faith. An exacting temper is one against which to guard both one's heart and tho nature of those who are under our control and influence. To give and allow, to suffer and to bear, are graces more to the purpose of a noble life, than cold, exacting selfishness, which must have, let who will go without, which will not yield, let who will break. It is a disastrous quality wherewith to go through the world; for it receives as much pain as i t inflicts, and creates the discomfort i t deprecates. It has been my fortune to love i n gen- eral, those men most who have thought differently fromme,on subjects wherein others pardon no discordance. In my opinion, I have no more right to be angry with a man whose reason has followed up a process different from what mine has, and is satisfied with the result, than with one who has gone to Venice while lam atFlorence, and who writes to me that he likes the place, and that, although he said once ho should settle elsewhere, he shall reside i n that city.
