Culture.'
A Cambridge, Mass., correspondent of
tlio New York Tiibune makes tho recent
celebration of the 250th anniversaries of
the settloraont of Boston and Cambridge
the text for a critical lotter on their
literary peculiarities, lie says the two
places are pretty much alike, though
with some minor differences, and con
tinues: Before the Boston "Brain Club" was
attacked with softening and expired, a
well-known writer was taken home after
one of tho moetings in the carriage of a
lady rejoicing in wealth and social gran
deur; and when the carriago stopped at
liis modest door in an unfashionable
street, the footman, on getting down,
remarked audibly to the coachman,
'What place is this? Ve'vo never leen
here bofore." The tone of this servant
was not so nnlike that of his employer's
class as an impartial observer could
' wish. The opposition to snobbery comes
naturally in the main, from literary
people, journalists, and artists; but
even the author or the artist finds it hard
to withstand the influences which so
imperceptibly tend to produce tho same
thing in himself. The literary
"school" of Boston, in fact, is
freely acousod of being thus infected,
by the press and the authors of
othor parts of the country. One of the
lost times that I saw Bayard Taylor be
fore his departure for Borlin, he spoke
with a good deal of quiet bitterness
about the way iu which his translation of
"Faust" had been received by some of
the magnates of literaiure here, for
whom as artists he had always the warm
est praise and recognition. Another
famous and popular writer, after visitiDg
Boston and Cambridge, gave it as his im
preBBion that tho great mon of letters fat
rather too much in tho shadow of their
own greatness. At a Phi Beta dinner,
again, tho poet of tho day. who came
from New York and was cordially re
ceived, made a speech in which lie paid
a glowing tribute to tho work of Cam
bridge in our literature, and thereby
drew forth hearty applause. He then
went on manfully to ac-t his belief that
New York us nurturiig u new school
destined to even larger lifo and a more
dramatic scope, and Irani to enkindle' a
sympathy between tho two movements.
This was received with total silenco.
Buch matter may be callod gossip; but
gossip of this sort is a potent intluciico,
and its facts must be taken into uceount
as significant. The social frigidity of
New England that mysterious thing,
which really exists, yet often seems so
incredible iu the presouce of a sudden
thaw has it bhare in throwing around
Boston literary circles that air of icy re
serve and narrowness generally at
tributed to them. How much of warmth
and charm, what episodes of delightful
informality they really inclose, only a
gradual and constant association makes
plan.
Ttie affectation of English ways and
an Euglish tono is another singular and
self -contradictory trait of Bostonians, for
those who most indulge m tnom nro fre
quently tho quickest to resent Euglish
patronage, aua to dwell on tho great dif
ference between America and England,
in favor of our own country. Occasion
ally, however, the preference for a for'
eign country is aired, as a mark of su
periority. Tho real attitude in which
such persons put their selves was once
delightfully stated by a competent au
thority. '"Thoso persons who prefer
Paris or London. I once heard Mr,
Emerson say, gently (speaking of a
young American author who appeared
very ill satisfied with his native land),
"would much better stay there, for we
do not noed tliem." And, certainly,
what is vital in Boston's influence has al
ways been intensely patriotic.
In Cambridge life thoro is a happy
mixture OI IllgU Ulius, prunaiu ui-uuid,
and nereeable companionships some
what disturbed during three-quarters of
the year by excessively muddy streets
and sidewalks, wherein people somotimos
leave their rubbers sticking while in tne
pursuit of social or intellectual pleasure.
Pleasant and peaceful as that country
town-like oity is, there is room for ques
tion whethor it is not too much shut
away from the stir of the great world.
Like its highways, it becomes rutted.
The very recreation which professors,
literary men, studious ladies, and culti
vated professional people seek at evening
parties is often only a prolongation of
the mental exercise involved in their
work. The tone of conversation is
largely critical. Even scandal may be
said here to assume the form 01 "analy
sis." How seriously Cambridgeans some
times take the practical minutiie of life
will be guessod when it is whispered
that a lad v who could not make her house
furnace work well attended a course of
austerely technical lectures on thermo
dynamics! Dancing is a rare diversion, excepting
for young girls and undergraduates. A
Methodist preacher, who looked on at a
small dancing party at a private house
in Cambridge, observed with sectarian
humor that the young women went
through their quadrilles and waltzes as
gravely as if they were "under convic
tion." Clubs of ladies, or ladies and
gentlemen together, are numerous; but
they are often rather to be described as
classes for the study ol languages Ger
man, Italian, Russian, or evon Arabic;
and when not formed for this object, they
make essay reading, the study of litera
ture, or amateur acting, their aim. One
dramatic company in especial, embrac
ing members from sundry families of
the greatest social consequence, has
held a brief season each winter, for
several years, during which difficult
plays are brought out m excellent
style, with scenery, mechanism, and
even musio produced and executed by
amateurs. Tickets are sold only to
friends of associate members, and the
performances are crowded. Strangely
enough, attempts to found a club among
professors and instructors in the uni
versity here always failed, though these
gentlemen have their small clubs for
the pursuit of specialties in which they
are interested. Of anything more than a
dilettante interest in literature outside
of the college, and, excepting Mr.
Longfellow,' and such men as John
Fiske, or T. W. Higginson, there is
jerj little. Young writers are not wel
comed, and the men of established re
nown appear indifferent as to whether
literary Titality shall continue or cease
on this ground, which is generally
thought to be consecrated to fruitful
thought and imagination. Meanwhile
inspiration, breadth of sympathy and
aims, and all tendency to express
sturdily strong ideas and sentinionts of
national or general value, aro being
sacrificed to the desire for specializing
culture. Perhaps Harvard thinks it
proper duty hotter fulfilled by edueat-
ug iue avorage undergraduate mind iu
accordance with a hither itarMnr.1 than
heretofore. But it ft a question whether
u snoniu encourage actual production in
stead of mero criticism, and stimulate lit
erary growth outside of the class room.
An Honest Ticket Ageut
Don Piatt tolls this in a recent uuni'
ber of the Washineton Canital:
A roformed ticket agent, now oncosed
in a mercantile pursuit, and who looks
oacK witn profound melancholy and re
morse to lus wicked caroer, as he sailed
in as a ticket agent, told mo that onco,
in his sinful days, he was employed at
Chicago on the through line from that
incorporated Boreas on the lake to New
York city, which, made np of a now
combination, was "bucking" against
Vanderbilt. To exteud its custom the
combination had at Chicago a corps of
uoie-oomeu runners, to soizo wayfarers
by tho throat and fetch them np to the
ticket ogont, whore the innocent traveler
was to be talked into a ticket over the
combination.
One day an able-bodied ruffian came,
leading np a rough-looking customer,
who wished to purchase a ticket to New
York by the way of Cleveland. Tho
combination did not touch Clovoland.
But evidently the old white-hatted,
loose-trousered, coarse-booted country
man, with his white head and goggling
iook, ma not Know wnat he wanted. It
was for the ticket agent to care for him,
aud so ho rattled on, with ticket in hand,
until tho venerable, eotrde-eved old
nullle toos had extracted from a fat wallot
the price ami shambled awkwardly away.
"Say, old fellow," asked a friond who
happoued to bo in the office, "do you
know who you sold a ticket to thon 'r
"Soino old fool of a corn-cracker."
"Not a bit of it that was Horace
Greeley."
"Geo whillicansl and ho wanted to go
to Cleveland?"
"Yes, he's billed to lecture there, and
tho Tribuno will give your combination
the devil for the swindle." ,
"That's so. Here, put your cheek to
this hole till I And him."
Away ran tho ticket tgeut. It was not
difficult to find the hotel at which tho
venerable philosopher lodged. Tho
ticket agent found hira in tho reading
room, pouring over a stale issue of tho
Tribune. Ho tapped Horace on tho
shoulder, and tho philosopher looked up
with the child like expression of his that
seemed to come out from open eyes and
mouth.
"I beg your pardon," said the agent,
"but I sold you a ticket to New York
a while since, and I mmle a mistake."
"In tho money, 1 suppose," replied
Horace, dryly.
"No, sir; in the route. I remembered
after you left you' said Cleveland. Now
the UckotI gave you will not take you to
Cleveland."
"Tho hell it don't!" cried Greeley,
starting up.
"Well, young man, I can tell you that
would be a great disappointment in
Cleveland."
"I don't know anything about that;
but I did not want any man to miss his
way through any fault of mine. So I've
been iu every hotel in Chicago after
you."
"Tho devil you have."
"I have. There is the right ticket. It's
over a rival lino. But my honor, sir,
rises above trick. I bought the right
ticket for you, and if you will give me
the old one we will be even."
' "Young man," said Horace, fishing
from his capacious pocket the tickot of
the combination, 'you are very good; too
good, come to think of it, too damned
good for a ticket agent. Leave that,
good young man, before your innocent
nature is corrupted, or your damned
patent-screw pod-auger line is bureted
up. Go west, young man; go west."
Special Form ef Charily.
There is one special form of charity for
which just now there is even more than
the usual scope. In spite of the marked
improvement which has taken place in
trade, and of the greater consequent
facilities there ore for obtaining work,
the state of many of the poorer classes
in the country is in no way still far from
satisfactory. The long trade depression
which we have gone through is visible
among them in its effects. It has done
much to exhaust the resources ot the
poor. Winter with mamy of them is al
ways a time of struggle and of hardship.
The summer's wages do little more than
clear away the lost winter's arrears.
When rent has been paid rrp, when shop
debts have been settled, and when goods
out at pawn have been redeemed, there
is not much remaining over to begin the
next winter with. It is thought enough
if the two seasons of the year can be
made to balance. At the return of
each winter the same round will be
recommenced, and the season will
be tided over by the same arts as
before, and by the same sacrifice of the
future to the demands of the immediate
present. It is a hand to mouth method
of existence; there is no progress, no ap
proach to independence. Its close is in
the winter of old age, with no summer
to follow it, with failing powers, ex
hausted means, and no further possi
bility of self-help. We fear that in very
manv coses the present winter has come
down npon this class of people, and has
found them less well prepared for it than
they usually are. The debts of the pre
vious winter nave not yet been cieareu
. 1 . 1 .
away. A year oi plenty may lie ueiore
us, but with many of our countrymen
the past years of leanness have their un
satisfied claim npon it, and are waitirg
to devour what it will yield. Here, then,
for once in a way, and nnder very ex
ceptional circumstances, there is a call
for charitable help. It would be a kind
and surely not an unwise thing to give
some of these poor fellows a fair start,
and to put them back into a position in
which they can exert themselves with
some hope. London Times.
A ionrnal " devoted to the interests of
undertakers." wishes its readers "a
happy New year and many of them"
II undertakers uon I wiuiuraw uieir ymv
ronage from dhat journal it will be a
marveL
Bpooueadjke'i Calif.
"Now, my dear," said Mr. Hpoopon
dyke, "let sue see the list of ladies you
wish me to call on. I really don't core
to go around much, but a man ought to
do what his wife wauU him to do on
Now Year's Day. Whore's tho list V"
"Here it is," said Mrs. Spoopendyke,
fluttering around with her hair in her
mouth. "1 wrote them all out with the
addrosses for yon, so you wouldn't have
any trouble."
"What makes yon put old Sister
Lamb at tho head of the list? growlod
Mr. Spoopendyko. "She's got a wart on
her chin the sizo of a lire bell, and sho
can't talk anything but the advantages of
egg over stove coal for heating tho Sun
day school."
"But she belongs to the Church, und I
don't bolievo any one clue will call on
her," reosouod Mrs. Spoopeudyke. "She
will be tickled to death to see you.
"What do you think I'm starting out
lor ? uomandoa Mr. Spoopeudyke,
fiercely. "Got an idea I'm going around
like a missionary to curry the Gospel to
jcople everybodv clso is afraid of?
lM...' il. .1 ' i
n uu b linn r ii iiui b mm nvviniii name
horo ? Who's Mrs. Shklymbretoy ?"
"That's Mrs. Wolverton. I promised
her you would call. Never nuud Mrs.
Lamb. But you ought to call on Mrs.
Wolvorton.
"What for? What hassho got in com
mon with me, except that her bones are
hollow? She don't know tho difference
between a Guinea pig und the burning
of Jerusalem. Always wants to know if
I don't think that Sodom and Gomorrah
wore parables. Is that the kind of list
you've made out? Want nip to run
around among the old monuments?
Who's Miss Swash?"
"That's Mrs. Smith, tho littlo widow.
You know sho's interested in sending
women out West to get husbands. Sho'll
amusoyon."
"She will if sho sees me. Sholl make
mo laugh like a hyena if she get's one
eye on me. Who's that yellow-haired
girl that sits two pews in front of us?
I'll call on hor, anyway."
"She's a little chit of a thing. You
don't want to run after those young
people a man of your age!"
"What's the reason I don't?" howled
Mr. Spoopenduke. "Got an idea that I
only earo for the tough old people,
haven't you? Think I'm a sort of
Plymouth Bock, don't you? Got any
mo.o old landmarks that neod in
spect ion?"
"I don't earo!" remonstrated Mrs.
Spoopendyko, indignantly; "they're nice
people, and I like to cultivate them.
"Cultivate 'em if you want to," growlod
Mr. Spoopondyke; "but if you think
I'm going hoeing arouud among 'em on
tho 1st of January, you'ro left. What
d'ye want to cultivate 'em for? With
your frionds and ideas you only need
weakly prayers aud an alarm of lire to
be an old woman's home. Who elso have
you got here? Mrs. Sliggonspratt, Mrs.
Woptenslough, Miss Mimpzf "
"Yon don't read thorn right at all,"
complainod Mrs. Spoopendyko. "That's
Mrs. Silverspoon, and Mrs. Worthing
ton, and Miss Hommingway. They're
just as nice as they can be."
"Are they the three old worthies who
howl in the choir? asked Mr. Spoopon
dyke, sternly. "They've got a grandson
old enough to be my father."
"They haven't," sobbod Mrs. Spoopen
dyko. "You know better."
"Well, most of 'em have. What d'ye
want me to call on them for? Got any
more old almanacs expecting me?
Whore's the Sphinx ? You haven't got
the Sphinx down here, nor the Tower of
Babel. Whore these othor pyramids?
Who's Mrs. TJpsidedown ?
"That's Mrs. lsdgorton. Sho sent yon
the jolly when you wore sick, and you
said she was tho best woman in Brook
lyn. You'll have to call on her for po
liteness," said Mrs. Spoopeudyke,
severely.
"I won't either!" shouted Mr. Spoo
pendyko. "The jelly was sour, and she
made me pay a dollar toward a plaster-of-paris
angel for a starving family out
in Flatbush. Who's this other nurse of
Georgo Washington's? Here, this is a
mistake; I went to old Miss Schums
lock's funeral thirty years ago.
"You didn't! You never did!" pro
claimed Mrs. Spoopendyko, thoroughly
aroused. "That isn't her name either.
It's Miss Schofiold, and she is tho best
friend I've got. I only wan 't "
"I know what you want, hissed Mr.
Spoopendyke. "Yon want a fow more
acquaintances, and a map, to be a guide
book to ancient Troy. Think I'm going
to call on that old monolith? Got any
thing here that belongs to modern timos?
Kuow anybody who has been dug up
within six or eight centuries? Who's
that block-eyed girl in tho Bible class?
Don't she hang out a flag to-day?"
"I wouldn t look at her, sniffod Mrs.
Spoodendye, "I wouldn't havo you go
there for world. Beside, she don't re
ceive.
"What's this?" demanded Mr. Spoo-
pondvke. "What's Mrs. Wimpqstyx got
to do with it? What cemetery will I find
her mi
"That's Mrs. Willoughby," explainod
Mrs. Spoopendyke, complacently. "She's
the young widow who recently joined
the church."
"Don't mind calling on hor," said Mr.
Spoopendyke. "She wasn't born mor'n
4000 years before the Christian era. Got
any more like her? Does this measly
list contain anybody else who wasn't the
mother of the Chinese Empire? Think
of any more grave-stones that haven't
had the epitaphs worn off?"
"No, replied Mrs. Spoopendyko.
coldly, "and I now remember Mrs.
Wilonghby receives calls with friends in
Buffalo."
"Dod Past your dod-uasted list!"
howled Mr. Spoopendyke, dancing on
the unhappy document. "What d'ye
think I am? A ghonl? S'poso I'm
going to prance around among all the
measly old ghosts in Brooklyn? H'pose
I'm going to swash around and eat cake
and drink lemonade with a lot of illus
trations of the Silurian period? Think
I'm going to spend the day with a lot of
articulated old skeletons just because
they belong to the same church that I
do?" And Mr. Spoopendyke popped
out of the house like a bung, and went
next door to see if his friend Tortor
thumb knew any mummies of whose his
tory there was some tradition.
"I don t care, said Mrs. Spoopen
dyke, as she whirled around two or
three times to practice kicking her train;
"if he don't call ou the church peon!,
tney ii no nopping mail; ami, u he dies
he won't huvo much of a time; so he'll
wish he was dead either way, and Mrs,
Spoopendyko bustled into tho parlor to
assure a suudyhuired young man with a
sun neon uiut it was awfnl good or luni
to come, and learn that he hadn't come
far of his own volition, but L . I slid
most of tne way.
Venn us a farmer.
Bisawos, who has lately paid a visit to
Verdi ut his largo farm at Buseto( gives
a description of the Turkish room in that
elegant retirement of tho celebrated com
poser. It is very magnificent; superb
draperies, carpets, ottomans, divans,
lamps all these objects were mode iu
the luxurious Empire of the Crescent
There is in it a stupendous bit of carving
and relief, a sort of console, full of every
delicacy of detail. This precious lot of
furniture had just been received by the
maostio from Egypt. "Do any of you
gentlemen understand Arabic?" asked
Verdi of his visitors, pointing to an in
scription that formed a fringo around
the console Their profouud silence was
an expression of negation. "I am told,"
he continued, pointing to tho contra! in
scription, "that this signifies 'Celeste
Aida.' Here wo have several versos of
the Koran. Tho other inscription wishes
me many years of life, and I must con
fess I accept most willingly this good
augury." Tho ouly object in this room
not Oriental in make, but perfectly so in
character, is a precious picture by the
distinguished painter of Naples, Mrclll,
representing an obclisquo. Thoro is a
beautiful Egyptin statue; also, Turkish
pipes, and a number of other valuable
Oriental objects, which tho fow intimate
friends of the maestro can admire at their
ease, when they assemble in this salon
after dinner to drink cofleo.
In the conversation that occurred dur
ing the visit, Verdi said: "I respect the
musio of all nations; but as I recognize
that they are right to make German mu
sio in Germany, French musio in France
I cannot understand tho determination
that shows itself from time to timo in
Italy to mako music more Gorman than
that of Germany, when it is our nature,
in our beautiful suns, to make entirely
different music. I respect, I repeat, the
musio of every nation, and as I rccog
nizothata Ninth Symphony of Beetho
ven cannot be written by us, I wish, on
tho other hand, that other nations
should understand that they are notable
to write the Prayer in Moise, noither a
Casta Diva, and especially a Barber of
Seville. It is with great sorrow I boo a
great tendenoy in musical studies in
Italy to go far away from our musical
traditions; for example, young men of
merit who have gouo out of our conser
vatories and daro more in tho work thau
Wagner himself would."
Of course, his visitors talked of tho
marvellously fine woather we are having
this vear all over Italy. "It is too fine,"
said Verdi, "eontadino countryman J as
I am, and wish to be, I recognizo tho
need and right that agriculture has too
bad woather." and then the great com
poser pourod out a fine display of far
mor erudition. He dwolt especially
npon the good and benoficial effects of
snow and the special coses whore it was
nseful against insects. London Tele
graph. -
An English Story of American Inge
uulty.
The following curious bit of informa
tion appears in the Daily Telegraph ot
London :
"American ingenuity, stimulated to
almost superhuman efforts of conception
by the favorable results of tho experi
ments recently made with a view of tun
neling the bod of the British Channol,
has put forth an amazing project for
connecting Great Britain with the United
States by a transatlantic railwuy. Ko-
jeeting the notion of driving a tnnnol
under the ocoan as too tedious and ex
pensive, the dovisers of this scheme
propose to sink upon tho Atlantic bed
an iron tube somo throe thousand miles
long and twenty-six feet in diameter,
through which two trains might
travel simultaneously with perfect con
venience and safety. As, howevor, this
tube would be subjected to exterior water
pressure equal to that of about 120 at
moapheros, its casing will have to be at
least eighteen inches thick. The tube Is
to consist of sections, each 1G0 feet in
lonKth. and is to be laid down in the fol
lowing manner: Five such sections aro
to be weldod togother upon firmly-anchored
pontoons, both ends of the length
thus prcp'ared for sinking boing her
metically closed, but in such sort that
they can be opened from within. Thon
the entire compartment, 800 foot long, is
to be lowered into the sea by stool
chains, so that it shall reach the bottom
in immediate proximity to the Bection it
is destined to join. The junction will,
of course, bo effected by submarine
workmen; and tho process will bo car
ried on with undeviuting regularity,
starting from the American coast, until
the shores of Ireland shall bo attained
by the mighty tubo. Meanwhile the lay
ing of rails, telegraph wires, lighting
and ventilation apparatus, and so forth,
will go inside the tube as it grows longer
and larger. Mr. Edison believes that he
can perfect an electric locomotive to draw
the trains along through tho tube in fifty
hours from shore to shore, and the cost
of the whole line, rolling-stock included,
is not to exceed ore hundred and sixty
millions sterling."
Ex-Confedeiutb Oenerals. Some
prominent ex-Confederate Generals are
employed as follows: Major General
Marmaduke is a Missouri ltailroad Com
missioner, and, as a bachelor, lives com
fortably in St. Louis on a salary of 5000
a year. General J. B. Gordon, as coun-
m -r - - Ml , l :il 1
sei ior me ijouisvme aim nasuvuie roau,
gets a salary of $11,000. Major General
Y. B. Cheatham has a handsome farm in
Tennessee, and General L. J. Polk has
another. General Toombs practices law
and is very rich. General Basil Duke is
a lawyer in Louisville, Kentucky, and
has a good income; General Bradley
Johnston is also gotting rich in the same
profession in Baltimore. All the sons of
Robert E. Lee, except one, are successful
farmers in Virginia. Custis Lee succeed
ed his father as President of Washington
Lee University. General Jabal Early is
living quietly at Lynchburg in comforta
ble circumstances. General J. G. Fern-
berton has become a resident of Phila
delphia, is an invalid, and has written a
book on v icksbarg
A Drovers Story.
My naino is Anthony Hunt. I am a
drover, and live miles and miles away
upon tho western prairie. ThorJ wasn t
a house within sight when we movod
there, my wifo and I; and now we have
not many neighlors, but those we have
are good ones.
Ouo day alout ten years ago I wont
away from home to sell some fifty head
of cattle fine creatures as ever I saw. I
was to buy somo groceries and dry goods
before I camo back, and above all, a
doll for our youngest Dolly. Sho never
hod a shop doll of hor own, only tho rag
babies her mother had made her. Dolly
could tulk of nothing else and went down
to tho very goto to call after me to "buy
a big oue." Nobody but a parent can
understand how my mind was on that
toy, and how, whon the cattle were sold,
tho first thing I hnrriod off to buy was
Dolly's doll. I found a largo ono with
eyes that would open and shut whon you
pulled a wire, ami hud it wrapped uii in
ii .per and tucked it under my arm, while
had parcels ot calico and delaine, and
tea and sugar, put up. It might have
been moro prudent to stay until morn
ing: but I felt auxiona to get back, and
eager to hear Dolly's prattle about tho
doll she was so anxiously expecting.
I was mounted on a steady -going old
horse of mine, and pretty well loaded.
Night sot in before I was a mile from
town, and settled down as dark as pitch
while I was iu tho middlo of tho wildest
bit ot road I know of. I could havo fult
my way through, I romombered it so
well, and it was almost that when the
storm that had been browing broko, and
pelted tho ruin in torrents, five miles, or
mav bo six. from homo, too. I rodo on
as fast as I could ;but suddenly I heard a
littlo cry like a child's voice. I stopped
short and Jistenod. I heard it again. I
called and it answered mo. I could not
aco anything. All was as dork as pitch.
I got down and felt about iu the gross;
colled aaain. and again I was auswered.
Then I began to wonder; I am not timid;
but I was known to bo a drover, and to
hove money about me. I thought it
might bo a trap to catch me, and theu
rob and murder me.
I am not supersti'ions not very -but
how could a real child be out on tho
prairie in such a night, ut such an hour?
It might bo more thau huiiniu. Tho bit
of coward that Lidesitsolf in most men
showed itself in mo then, ami I win half
inclined to run awor; but onco more I
heord that piteous cry; and said 1, "It
any mou's child is hereabouts Anthony
Hunt is not tho man to let it lie hero to
die."
I searched azain. At last I bethought
mo of a hollow under the hill and groped
that way. Sure enough, I found a little
dripping thing that moaned and sobbed
as 1 took it in my aims. I call
ed my horse und the beast
anre to me. and I mounted, and tucked
the littlo, soaked thing under my coat ai
well as I could, promisiug to toko it
home-to mamma. It scorned tired to
doath, and pretty soon cried itself to
sleep against my bosom.
It hod Blopt tiioro over on uonr wnen
I saw my own wiudows. There were
lights in them, and I supposed my wifo
had lit them for my sake; but when I
got into the dooryard, I saw something
was the matter, and stood with dead fear
of heart five minutes before I could lift
the latch. At last I did it, and saw tho
room full of noighbors, and my wifo
amid them weeping. When sho buw me,
she hid his face.
"Oh, don't toll him," sho said, "it
will kill him."
"What is it, noighbor?" I cried.
And one said, "Nothing now, I hope;
what is that in your arms?"
"A poor lost child," said I. "I found
it on the road. Take it, will you? I've
turned faint." And I lifted the steeping
thing, and saw the toco of my own child,
my littlo Dolly.
It was my darling, and no other, I had
picked up upon the drenched road.
My littlo child hail wandered out to
moet "daddy" and doll while the mothor
was at work, and thoy word lomonting
her as one dead. I thanked God on my
knoes bofore them all. It is not much of
a story, noighbors, but I think of it often
in tho nights, and wonder how I could
bear to live if I hod not stoppod whon I
hoard the little ory for help npon the
road the little baby cry, hurdly loudor
than a squirrels chirp. Christian
Woman.
An Absent Blinded Man.
Tlin TTartford f!ourant sovs that a
ourious demonstration of absent-mindedness
occurred at tho New York and New
England ltailroad hearing in that city.
Tho original dispatch of instruction to
Conductor Aldritch, in violating which
lia mi liia ilftiith was nut into evidonoe
and was passed about the room. One
gentleman witn wuom it lougoo worn
a while and then bogan carelessly twist
ing it np as one does a bit of waste paper.
The hearing went on, and by and by,
some one asked for the dispatch. It
could not be found. One person thought
he saw it boing twisted by the gentle
man alludod to, but tuo lauor uiu not
remember having it. An adjournment
ti 1mnt fnr it fnilfld in reveal it. Finnllv
whon the hearing was over it was found
on the floor, twisted into a mue Duncu,
where it had been dropped by the absent
minded eontleman who had forgotteu ho
had ever had it.
C3AnAnH rt Ttuuiuutrmf navfl
nvuniui ui iivi v. j -
that while in Italy three years ago, he
went into a barler s shop at I'isi to have
his hair dressed. "You know," says
Mr. Bruce, in describing the inoident,
"that the hair of my peculiar 'raco, color
and previous condition of servitude' is
very singular; tho longer it gets the
almrtnr it crows, and reollv outkinks
every conception of curiosity. There
waa Jurtl enougu oi uio mm; into uunucu
with the white to furnish my barber such
a specimen of wool as he had never aoou
before. He toiled with it, and was puz
zled. After running the comb through
it he would press it down with his hand,
but it wouldn't stay down; it persisted
in jumping np like a jack in a box. He
went out and called in another barber,
wtin afvwl Avar mv wrvil vnmlerinff.
Finally he got his scissors, clipped it off
.7 . . 1
to suit nimseii, and careiuiiy wruipeu
op the fleece for preservation as the
greatest curiosity he had ever seen. I
could not speak Italian nor he English,
so he must wonder to-day what manner
of man I am."
ITosMa IB Parts.
If you ask a Frenchman why the la
dies and gontlemon are completely sepa
rated at the ordinary Parisian soiree ho
will account for it by the radical differ
ence of the eduoution which boys and
girls rooeivo. Tobacco used to bo blamed,
but tho license givon at soirees in times
to cigar smoking has not boon bridgod
over the groat separating gulf. Tho
brains of girls aro not allowed to acquire
the sumo habits as the brains of boys.
They learn to think differently, and to
see all things unconnected with tho gal
lantry and tho playhouse in a different
light. What intellectual, or indeed
sentimental, convene of a delicate and
platonic nature can bo kept up betwocn
men and women so disqualified to nnder
stand each oilier? A man of lilierol
view s on any possible subject would, if ho
owed tliem iu the hroring of ladies, pass
for impertinent or indiscreet. How for
instance, could M. Oscar do Layfuetto
(tho grandson of Washington's ally),
who has voted in tho Senate for girls'
colleges, and to seak in tho jargon of
his feminino rehitivos for all sorts of
ltepublican horrors, talk with any free
dom in tho drawing rooms ho frequents
within earshot of the ladies of his kin
dred aud their fair friends?
Whenever a large-minded woman of
pleasant manners and Bocial tact obtains
an entry into the Parisian monde, sho
carries all bofore her. Tho gontlemen
confess thomselvos at onco her devoted
slaves, and really do not stop to consider
whethor she is plain, sur lo retour, inex
pensively dressed, or not rich enough to
cive dinners soveral times a week. It
occurs to me that owing, no doubt, to
the intellectual inferiority of which
French upper class young ladies have
long been kept, the influential women of
our dny in Paris are foreigners or of
foreign extraction.
I shall not name thoso who do not
court publicity. Tho Princess Mroubci-
skoi lind a siioi t reign in tuo cany part
of tho MacMahonnote, but an absolute
one. Small Bernhardt is a Dutch Jew
ess, and livod at Tho Hague until 11
years old. A Bavarian Jewess has
aeqiiiivd notoriety by twisting Oenerala
ruuuu iiui iuivi unburn. xim iuhvsw
ilo Sagen ly blood is of tlioueiman
Juiverie. Her friend, "tho Marquiso,
is half a Scotch woman, and sup
posed by her father to descend from
Q.iocn Marie Amolie. who was half an
Austrian. Tho lido Duchess do Mont
moreucy do Talleyrand, about whom
much cold gush bus been luduigcu in iy
the fauhionable world, was a mixing up
ot Miicdoualds, De Las Marismos, and
Aguados. Tho late Mmo. do Culonne
was a Polisr Jewess; tho unfortunate
and onco most influential Comtesso do
l'rebois was a Badoise; Marcello, tha
lute "Empress of the Studios" and sculp
tress, was a Swiss, married to a Roman
Duke; Madame B ki was a Cir-
. . i.
cassiun slave, picacu up in
the slavo market of Constantinople
by the diplomat whose name she bears.
Iu tho reign of Napoleon a Spauiuli lady
was Empress and an Italian lady gov
erned the Empire. Madnmo de B 1,
the daughter of a Wcst-of-England
squire, governed at the camp of Chalons;
Madame Mold, an Englishwoman, gov
erned tho Institute, the Sorbonne, and
tho College of France, and Madame de
Circourt the intellectual world. On the
rive droite French ladies were com
pletely eclipsod, even in the domain of
frivolity, by the Florentine Comtosse
Walewski, who nappenea to ue very
clover, by the Duchesse de Morny, nee
Troubotskoi, by the Princosse Mdttor-
nlch, Mrs. 11 , and la Morochale Can-
robert. London Truth.
Tom t'orwln and Mrs. Bnanuon.
St. Clairsvillo people tell an amusing
story of the late Mrs. Shannon, widow
of ex-Governor Wilson Shannon, who
diod last week at Leavenworth, Kansas.
In 1840 Governor Shannon was a candi
date for re-eloetion as Governor of Ohio
on the Democratic ticket, his opponent
on tho Whig side boing the famous
Thomas Corwin, who was successful in
the canvass, and became Governor,
though Shannon was again chosen at the
biennial oleotion in 1812. Dnring the
canvass of 1810 Mr. Corwin was an
nounced to BnoakatSt. Clairsville, where
Govornor Shannon rosidod.. Possibly
there was to bo a joint discussion be
twoon tho two candidates at any rate
tho mooting was lookod forward to with
absorbing interest, and Mrs. Shannon,
who was visiting friends in this citjr,
took the morning stage to go out home
on the day of the occurrence. There was
in the stage quite anumbor of St. Clairs
ville ladies, and a man, apparently a
very dark mulatto, who seemed to
be of a retiring disposition, and
occupied a corner as remote from hia
fellow passengers as possible.
Arriving at a watering station, noar
the foot of the "Big Hill," Mrs. Shan
non, who was acoompanied by a balie in
arms, desired to procure some milk for
the child, and requested the dark man
in tho corner to hold the infant for her.
Upon returning with the milk, having
fed tho baby, and the stage was again in
motion, the babe was once more con
signed to tho cure of the "mulatto," tho
ladies proceeded to discuss the great
event of the day. Whon tho stage ar
rived at the hotel ht. OlairsviJlo, tne
nurse deferentially informed Mrs. S. tliat
he was at the end of his journey.
und transferred his churgo to her care,
not, however, until sho had tendered
him a quarter in payment for his ser
vices, wiiich was, much to her sur
prise, declined with much dignity,
though very politely, withal. The sequel
transpired in the afternoon. What was
Mrs. Shannon's surprise upon reaching
the grove in which the meeting was to be
held, to see her mulatto nnrse of the
morning occupying a seat of honor upon
the platform ; surprise scarcely increased
when the dark gentleman arose and was
introduced by a prominont local politi
cian as "Thomas Corwin, the next Gov
ernor of Ohio." The great orator was
introduced to the wife of his opponent
later in the day and enjoyed hor embar
rassment over the affair hngely, but
Mrs. Shannon nover quite recovered
from the mortification she felt when she
discovered what a mistake she had made.
Wheeling Intelligencer.
"You seem to enjoy telling fibs,"
drily remarked an old lady to her
little niece the other day. " Yes, auntie,"
replied the child, " I think I do, but I
enjoy having yon swallow them more."