''
THE INDEPENDENT,
FtlLIIBID
Every Thursday Evening,
THE INDEPENDENT
Adrortiaing Bates.
LEGAL tDVKnTIMKXEm (eoln.)
One Miliars or lout, on Inarrtlun J
Out qur aeli ubMquul lUkwrtioB Ov
ton ' IndeBenden
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ii. p.. 1. 1 c i:.
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Tl M K. I ti. 81- 1 V COltf Cl J COl.
Office, - - Old Court House,!
1 mouth ... I not 4 00 I 0u 0f) 7 OOIU 90130 00
TULLEOKO, OREGON'.
3 month.
400 ssrt
10 on;
: 60
MOO
tO 09
I months. .
I Off 101
urn
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Trrun of AiiHerription (coin ritn-
Mrle copy per far f 2 50
fctngle copy month 1 Su
tinsl number
month..
11 S0 IS (II
IT M
WW
VOL. 4.
LLSB0R0, WASHINGTON COUNTY, OREGON, THURSDAY, APRIL 13, 1876.
NO. 2
I JMf.
10 00 14 OJ
0U 23 (W
80 (M
sooJ
MOO
Wash
V
I
.
On the Short.
I urn growing old I fti-I it
la the tieiublinsf of the lUiib;
'I'll silver luil r.- reveal it,
Ami my sight is growing dim;
While my friends urourn! remind me
Of tlit dullness of my ear,
Though I hear it said behind m,
"(irand jni is gt( wing nueer."
Ah! so deep the furrowed places
Which flu: share of time dot It plow.
That it nmj have left its traces
On the hrain its welt as brow!
Hut I know that still utifur rowed
I have kept my better part;
For though lines lie on the forehead.
There lire none upon the heart.
And, therefore, old and weary,
I urn not ufmid to die,
Tho' the shore seems long and dreary.
And the waters wide and hili;
For I know across the river
There's a bright and sunny land,
Where the hand doth never quiver,
Nor the form decripit stand.
Where the hair doth never silver,
Nor the head unhidden bow,
And the passing ages never
In t a wrinkle on the brow!
And there's One will "jo beside me
Through the river's hri-uking tide,
That no waves will over-ride me
Till I reach the other side.
8. ('. Kikk.
The Hidden Cause.
In the neighborhood of Paris, a short
distance from Morfoutaine urn) Ermcnon
ville, there rises a pretty country-house,
carefully built, ami ornamented with
much taste. The traveler, in passing,
pauses to regard it with pleasure, as we
always do those habitations which seem
the abode of atllueiice, happiness anil
peace.
This dwelling, w hich has neither the
appearance of a chateau nor the luxury
of a villa, is the house of a citizen which
has served us the retreat of an artist; and
the inspirations of genius are visible in
its arrangement: for those who cultivate
the arts have the secret of bestowing
charms to the most simple things; and
the house of the painter, the garden of
the poet, the - pavilion of the musician,
have an- asjH'ct which neither the riches
of the capitalist, nor the pretensions of
the upstart, can bestow' on the most
semptuous propel ty. For those who
would escape the iioie of the town, what
more beautiful situation can be found
than the country between Morfoutuine
and Ermenonville i
It was with feelings of sweet joy that
the poet Delvigny entered on tho posses
sion of this charming abode, all the ad
vantages of which I shall not attempt to
describe, because description is never
more than si pale image of reality. I
will merely say that nothing was want
ing to supply all the charms of refined
existence; there was a pretty drawing
room with a piano, a handsome apart
ment for billiards, a beautiful garden with
grottoes and grove, and ju.-t such a piece
of water as an angler would desire; in
short, everything to satisfy an inhabitant
of the country.
Delvigny had quitted the city, on the
death of his wife, whom he had adored;
and, though still young, had not the res
olution to console himself for the loss of
one whom he had hoped to have had for
the fi iend and companion of his existence.
A son was t!ie only pledge of affection
Hymen hud left Delvigny a son us
beautiful as his mother, ami who prom
ised to be equally amiable.
The little Adolphe was the idol of his
father, who promised to make a celebrated
artist of him, and already perceived on
his forehead all the bumps of genius,
science and the arts. But death, who
disarranges all our plans, did not permit
Delvigny to accomplish his for the edu
cation of his son. The poet died three
years after his wife, leaving the little
Adolphe to the care of two good aunts,
who hail left their homes to attend the
poet during his illness.
Behold, then, our hero of live years old
in the charge of two old maids, of whom
one had never had a passion for any thing
but sweettneats,.and the other a very de
cided pinr'tiint for the game of ''pa
tience." Delvigny had left his son three hun
dred pounds a year income (which is not
so bid otF for a poet), and each aunt pos
sessed another, -all of which would ulti
mately revert to Adolphe; he would thus
We sutlieiently rich to live without active
employment. All they had to do, there
fore, was to disperse from his mind all
vicious propensities, all ambitious ideas
in a word, t make him contented with
his lot. With this view the good aunts
educated the boy as it' he had been a girl.
They would not let him karn Grecian
history, for fear he should acquire a taste
.for .war; they locked up Kotnan history
lest it should make him cruel. In fact,
tin two old ladles suppressed a crowd of
things which they judged to be useless
and dangerous; but, on the other hand
the boy learned to sing and to read in
very old, respectable books; lie knew
how to m ike tapestry, and wind silk, and
to weave nets with.thre.nl. Thev had
al.-o inculcated, in a good hour, h love of
sweetmeats and the game of "patience."
In the meantime Adolphe grew apace.
He was gentle as a lamb; he lowered his
eyes when anyone looked at him, and
blushed w hen he was spoken to. He was
not very learned, nr very industrious;
but then he adored c'onfects, and passed
willingly an hour or two at the game of
"patience." The two old aunts were
enchanted with their pupil.
IIo is a jewel a real cherubim!" said
they one to another. "It will be very
easy to make him happy, for happiness
is rather compounded of ignorance than
knowledge."
In this way Adolphe attained the age
of eighteen years without ever going out,
except to take a walk with Ids aunts in
the neighborhood. They, good ladies,
believed that their beautiful nephew
would pass through life without any
other idea?, other thoughts, or wishes;
the poor girls never having had any others
themselves, conceived the love of sweet
meats ami the game of "patience" suffi
cient tor human happiness.
Hut one day a peasant happened to let
fall a few words to Adolphe, about a fate
at the vjluge ot J-.rmenonvilIe, to which
he requested his aunts would take him.
They consented, not toreseeing-how at a
village jtte their gentle nephew could
provide Jiunselt with new nenclniia
Adolphe opened his eyes wide on seeing
the people, the shops, the dance; lie
opened them yet wider on beholding the
young village girls, so lreh, and pretty,
and coouettishly dressed. I hen he low
ered them suddenly, and reddened with
an emotion of mingled trouble and pleas
ure, In-fore a young face so sweet, so
gracious, that she resembled rather the
ideal creation of a painter than the work
oi nature.
This charming face was that of CTo-
tilde, a little peasant girl, the daughter
of a poor but honest laborer. She was
his sole possession the last hope of her
old father, tor whom she worked Irom
morn till night. She had the entire man
agement of their little household; and
when anfete days she was enabled to put
on her pretty robe ot pink cotton, and
take the arm of her father under her own
oh! then the young girl thought her
self as happy as a queen.
After having lowered his eyes before
the young girl, Adolphe raised them
again, and hazarded another look at this
charming face, so candid and so pure
Uy a singular accident, it happened that
( lotilde was also regarding the handsome
volmg man w ho stood near her, and it
wajs now her turn to redden. Adolphe
had no power to move away from C'lotilde;
the company were dancing, but lie would
not dance because the peasant girl hud
no inclination to leave her father, hvery
one solic ited them to take part in the
pleasures of their age; and the young
man hastened forward to invite C'lotilde
to dance with him, telling her that thev
would place themselves opposite to her
father.
C'lotilde tremblingly accepted the hand
ot Adolphe, and during the dance they
exchanged but few words. Adolphe only
found that the lather of the little
'ime was named Dumout, and that he
was very poor; C'lotilde, that her cavalier
was called Adolphe Delvigny, and that
he was rich.' The girl sighed at this
news. Their dance lasted a long time.
for Adolphe recommenced each succeed
ing one with his pretty partner, whom
he had the sense to engage in advance.
Hut in the interim, the file drew to a
close; his aunts desired to return home,
and took the young man, who was habit
nally obedient, with them; but though
he left C'lotilde, Adolphe turned back very
oftil n to look at her uiriin, and each time
he found the little peasant looking also;
so that accident already made them act
alike.
The next day Adolphe ate very little
breakfast, and lens dinner; he seemed
melancholy and disturbed. lie could do
nothing; he even refused to eat sweet
meats, though newly made.
"Nay, then, the poor lad must be ill."
said both aunts, overwhelming him with
questions.
"Where do you suffer?'' asked one.
"How did it take you?" said the other.
'Does it pinchi"
To all these inquiries Adolphe con
tented himself with replying,
"I do not suffer. I have no pain any
where. I am not ill."
Several days passed, during which
Adolphe visibly changed, lie lost his
color, his eyes had no longer their lustre,
and a languor mixed with melancholy
replaced his usual gayety and petulance.
The aunts were disconsolate, and sent for
the most skillful doctor in the neighbor
hood. The medical man examined the
patient, shook Ids head and muttered,
"It is very astonishing; there is noth
ing the mutter with the young man."
"And, notwithstanding, he visibly drops
off, sir," suid aunt I'rsule, weeping.
"There must be some hidden cause,
said the doctor.
"What is there he would not tell us?"
exclaimed the aunts. "We love him so
much that we could refuse him nothing."
At the end of some weeks, Adolphe
became so weak that he was obliged to
keep his bed; his aunts demanded with
out ceasing, if there was anything he de
sired; but Adolphe wished for nothing,
only he often asked when the ftte of
hrmeiionvilie would come again.
"In a year," said they.
At this the poor youth sighed, and said,
half to himself,
"In a year that's a long time; shall
I last until then?"
Hut the doctor, understanding that hit
patient was in the habit of asking this
question daily, hastily inquired of
Adolphe what he had done at the fete to
which the other answered, in a faint
voice, that he had danced w ith C'lotilde
Dumont.
The doctor immediately sought the
aunts, and said to them, rubbing his
hands,
"I believe I know the secret of your
nephew's illness."
"Oh, doctor, then you will save him?"
"No!"
"How no?"
"Keeause I cannot; it will be a young
girl of Krmenon villi, named CTotilde Du
mont." "What do you say, doctor?"
"That your nephew is in love with that
young peasant, and that his passion is so
consuming, that it will conduct him to
the grave unless you permit him to
marry her."
"Our nephew in love! Impossible,
doctor! Uliy he sees no one but us!"
"I know very well lie is not in love
with either of you; but send to Clotilde
Dumont; it is she only who can restore
your nephew."
The two aunts regarded one another a
moment in silence; but Adolphe suffered,
and they could not hesitate long. On
the morning of the next day, the aunts
and the doctor entered the invalid's cham
ber and announced a visitor. It was
CTotilde, who had come with her father,
in consequence of an invitation they had
received, and who remained immovable
and trembling at finding herself in the
presence of the sick young man.
On seeing her, Adolphe made a move
ment as if he would have sprung towan
her; but weakness prevented him, am
he fell back ujHin his bed. Yet his heart
leat strongly, and his eyes recovered
their brightness.
"I was not mistaken," said the doctor,
addressing the aunts. Your nephew's
malady is love; and as this cannot be
treated by homu'opathy, love only can
cure In m.
I lie good aunts, willing t sacrifice
everything tor the happiness of their
nephew, demanded Irom Mr. Dumont
the hand of his daughter for Adolphe,
and presented her to him, saying,
"She shall be your wife as soon as you
recover.
I need hardly say that his illness did
not continue long.
Rest.
Multitudes of earth's toiling millions
have died while striving to make enough
money to retire from business, and in
beautiful cottage on their own little
farm to spend the remnant of their days
in rest, in having nothing in particular
to do. I'crhaps one m a million ot the
hopers does make money enough to en
able him to retire to his country seat,
and for a year or two, while he is fixing
it up to his notion, all goes on charm
ingly, but when everything is completed
to his mind, and he has nothing more
to take up his attention, he eats and
sleeps and lounges around for a few
months longer, falls into disease and
dies; or if he has unusual force of char
acter and power of observation, he no
tices that !oth health and happiness are
passing from him, and tracing this to the
true cause of an inactive body and an
unoccupied mind, he resolves to ''sell
out" and plunge again into the vortex of
busiuess.
IJecently an old schoolmate younger,
graduating in the same class thirty-seven
years ago wrote that "loth body and
mind are worn out; the slightest phys
ical labor exhausts him," and, "any effort
to think or study or even read, so wearies
the brain that life is felt as a burden."
lie withdrew from his professional duties,
which he had performed in the place for
twenty-five years, with honor to himself,
having secured the love and confidence
and resjtect of all who knew him. He
gave up Ida calling for the purjKse of
obtainiug rest as a means of health.
The number of families is increasing
every day, who give up housekeeping as
a means of rest from family cares, and
resort to that miserable and most un
wise mode of life, boarding at a hotel or
in a private family, to get more dissatis
fied than ever in a few months, mean
while falling into bail health and bad
habits of various kitfds.
All these classes of persons fail, mis-
erablyvfail, in their object because they
mistake tho physiological meaning of
the word "rest." Xeither body nor brain
are safely, truly and happily rested 1y
doing nothing. The only healthful rest.
as long as our physical ami mental con
stitution remains as it is, is to be busy.
Men ot torco and industry will every
where tell you, "It is the hardest thing in
tho world to do nothing." No mortal
man was ever made to be a loafer, to be a
miserable drone. The true idea of rest
is recreation, a making over again, a re
turn to our accustomed vigor; and this is
iccomplished, not by allowing the ma
chine to come to a standstill, for inactivi
ty is rust and ruin to all mechanical
contrivances, and death to all physiolog
ical structures. 1 he true object ot rest
is recuperation, and that is best brought
about as to the body, by exercising a
different set of muscles; and as to the
brain by calling into requisition a differ
ent set of organs or powers, causing the
mind toact upon new objects. A I letter plan
is not to get into the unhealthful condi
tions named, and they are avoidable by
giving two hours daily to the exercise of
a different class of muscles, or to the in
vestigation and t-tudy of objects of com
paratively trivial importance, and of a
wholly different nature. The student
should ride on horseback, or cultivate
fruits and flowers ; the merchant should
employ his mind in liberal studies, in
active personal and elevating charities.
while the overtaxed and worried wife
should pay a visit daily to some prudent
friend, some cheery neighlmr or suffering
sister or cnild; the main idea in all cases
being to spend two or three hours daily
in open-air activities wholly ditierent
Irom the ordiiiary business routine.
It iitrhiwtii and Jit fifrtor.
Let Uh Hem One Anothek. This
little sentence should lie written on every
heart and stamped on every memory.
It should ue the golden rule practiced
not only in every household, but through
out the world. Hv helping one another
we not only remove thorns from the path
way and anxiety from the mind, but we
feel a sense of pleasure in our own hearts,
knowing we are doing a duty to a fellow
creature. A helping hand, or an encour
aging word is no loss to us, yet it is a
benefit to others. Who lias not felt the
power of this little sentence? Who has
not needed the encouragemeut and aid of
a kind friend? How soothing, when jer
plexed with some task that is mysterious
and burthensoine, to feel a gentle h ind
upon the shoulder and to hear a kind
voice whispering, "Do not feel discour
aged. I see your trouble let me help
you." What a strength is inspired, what
hope created, what sweet gratitude is
felt, and the great difficulty is dissolved
as dew beneath the sunshine. Yes, let
us help one another by endeavoring to
strengthen and encourage the weak and
lifting the burden of care from the weary
and oppressed, that life may glide smooth
ly on and the fount of bitterness yield
sweet water; and He, whose willing hand
is ever ready to aid us, will reward our
humble endeavors, and every good deed
will be as "bread cast upon the waters, to
return after many days," if not to us, to
those we love.
All. truths, unless productive of holi
ness and love, are of no avail. They may
float upon the surface of the understand
ing, but this is to no purpose unless they
transform the heart.
The Philosophy of Curing Cheese.
1. Hut little advance can be made in
the quality of our best fancy cheese w ith
out especial care in curing.
2. Uy proper attention in curing it is
possible to reach the highest excellence
in the cheese product. That by this means
immense losses now uunually sustained
may be avoided, while consumption will
be uromoted.
.'. The 4rojver temperature for curing
cheese to get the best result in quality,
has been determined by experiment to be
from 70 to .o deg. t ah.
4. The temperature above named must
Imj uniform, and that uneven tempera
tures, by alternately checking and unduly
increasing fermentation, cause bitterness
and other objectionable taint in cheese.
5. Moisture is an impotlact element in
cheese; that it should be properly dis
tributed through the solids and soassimi
lated as to form one homogeneous mass,
mellow and plastic, giving the cheese the
appearance of great richness.
0. At least from i!0 to 33 jicr cent, of
moisture should be retained in curing
cheese; that as we decrease the percentage
of moisture from this point, the percent
age of butter must be increased to obtain
mellowness of texture; that the cheese is
not improved in taste, by this substi
tution, which is often a serious loss,
and this loss may always be esti
mated to be in proportion between
the cost of water and fat.
7. Hy proper temperature and attention
in retaining a proportion of moisture, the
cheese is not only of better flavor and
quality, but a saving in weight of from
three to four per cent, is made to the pro
ducer over the ordinary methods of curing.
8. Hy the use of refrigerator rooms a
cheese may be kept at any desirable point
of flavor, and thus by holding w hen the
markets are dull or the weather unsuit
able for shipping, the intervening space
of time may be bridged over by the fac
tories without detriment to the flavor or
quality f the cheese.
1). With our present knowledge of
cheese making a certain amount ot tat in
the milk is needed to make a good, pala
table cheese. Hence excessivei-kimniing.
or a reduction of the fat in the milk be
low l'i to 2 per cent., is not to be rec
ommended where the milk is to Im? made
into cheese, unless other fat be substitut
ed to supply the deficiency. Moore' Jiu-
rulew 1 urker.
To Avoid Si.eeilessn ess. If you
wish to sleep well, eat sparingly of early
supiiers. Avoid all arguments or contest
ed subjects near night as these are likely
to havn a bail effect upon one who is
troubled with sleeplessness at night.
Avoid having too much company. Many
persons become so excited with the meet
ing of friends that sleep departs for a
time. There is probably nothing better.
ifer cultivating a tranquil mind, than ex
ercise in the open air. Hy observing these
simple rules, sleeplessness, in the major
ity of instances, may be w holly enred.
IlrsTY Nails. Every little while we
read of one who has stuck a rusty nail in
Ins toot or some other portion ot his per
son, and lockjaw has resulted therefrom.
All such wounds can be healed without
any fatal consequences following them.
The remedy is simple: It is only to smoke
such wound, or any wound or bruise that
is inflamed, with burning wood or woolen
cloth. Twenty minutes in the smoke of
wool will take the pain out of
the worst case of inflammation we ever
saw arising from a wound.
Hheao IIamj. Break the bread in
small pieces, and moisten with milk or a
lttle warm water, season with salt, jHp
er and nutmeg, adding a little tine sage
or parsley and a small piece of butter;
mix ami form into small cakes or balls;
roast with beef or chickens, or fry after
meat in a skillet.
Smokei Geese Bkkabtk. Cut out the
breasts of young, fat, and well-cleaned
gKse, rub them well with salt, and with
a little saltpetre, place in a jar or other
vessel, with a weight Uon them, lct
them remain thus for ten days, after
which put them in smoke for two weeks.
Lemon Tie. Take the juice and grated
rind of one lemon, one cup of sugar,
yolks of two eggs, three tah!cponnfuls
of flour, one pint of milk ; after baking
cover with a soft frosting made from the
whites of two eggs and four tablesjioon
fuls of sugar, ami brown slightly.
Salt Kiiei'm. One ounce spermaceti.
one ounce white wax, one and a half
ounces sweet oil, and one-half ounce cam-
hor gum. Melt all together, but do not
I -oil. It is a cheap remedy and a
splendid one.
German Potatoes. Mashed potatoes
well seasoned ami plenty of cream. Make
in little cakes an inch thick, (made some
hours beforehand they are better), lieut an
egg and dip them in it; brown nicely on
both bides.
Indian Ki sk. Two light cups of In
dian meal, one cup of flour, one tea
spoonful of saleratus, enough sour or
buttermilk to dissolve, one cup of sweet
milk; stir in three-foui ths of a cup of
molasses.
Mrs. Smith's 'Potato Pie-Crust.
Take six good-sied potates, peel and
noil them, then mash them tine, add two
tahlespoonfuls of shortening and a little
salt, and sufficient flour to make a nice
pastry.
Saoo Pkddino. Two large spoonfuls
of sago boiled in one quart of milk, the
jieel of a lemon, little uutmcy; when cool
add four eggs; little salt. Bake about
one hour and a half,
cream.
Eat with sugar and
Quick Pudding. One egg, one cup of
sugar, one tablespoonful of melted butter,
one cup of sweet milk, half a teaspoonful
of soda, three cups of flour. Bake half
an licur or more. L.at with sweet sauce.
When the kerosene gets low and the
wicks short, and you can't conveniently
replenish the can, till up the lamp-bowls
with water and the difficulty is sur
mounted.
Pancake. One egg, two spoonfuls of
sugar, one cup of sweet milk, one tea
spoonful of soda, two teaspoon fu la of
cream-tartar, three cups or flour.
Tho Klephnnt us an Executioner.
Among the modes of punishment iu
vogue in the East there are few that are
not characterized by barbarity in a
greater or less degree. We may, It we
like, hold the theory in America that the
execution of a criminal should be curried
out as a deferrent to others rather than
as society's revenge upon him personally
tor the oltense committed ; but with In
dians such an argument would not hold
water for a moment, ami this is sutli
eiently proved by the refinements of tor
ture which many of their modes of pun
ishment involve, and w hich seem sjiecially
designed as much to ratify the morbid
tastes of the beholders as to accomplish
their ultimate design on the victim.
Although the English have done much
to abolish these barbarous modes of exe
cution in the different native States um
der their control, they still prevail in
some parts of the Indian empire; notably
at Hyderabad and at Baroda, from the
latter of which capitals we have received
the following account of the mode of ex
editing criminals with the elephant:
The wretched victim is bound hand
and foot, and then by means of a rope
tied round his wai.-t, is secured to the
hind leg of the elephant, which is then
driven at a brisk trot through the streets
of the city. Of course, at every move
ment of the animal's leg, the body of the
man is lifted up and dashed against the
ground; and it is well for him if one of
these concussions should haply prove
fatal, in which case his sufferings are ut
an end.
Otherwise the miserable wretch is
taken outside the city, where he is
placed with his head upon a stone, and
the elephant, raising his enormous foot,
crushes it as easily as a Xusuiyth ham
mer would a Barcelona nut. .
A Fiistidioiis Bride.
Pleasant Valley, in the State of Iowa,
has developed an uncommonly punctilious
young lady. She lived near enough Daven-
jHirt to catch the manners ot the town, and
a city lieau into the bargain. She put
slyle on her beauty, ami, as is generally
the case with suburban belles, overdid it.
Her wedding day was set, and her
father's house was thronged with seventy
guests, who were invited to witness the
ceremony, and sit down to the wedding
feast. 1 he preacher was there with his
book; the bride swept into the midst of
the company in gorgeous attire; the
gr4Mm and his friends were there on
time, and tho hour was five o clock in the
afternoon. It was now first discovered
that the groom had forgotten to provide
himself with a our ot gloves. Glove-
less and shamed he stixwl in that bril
liant, expectant company. What was to
be done? The town w as a long way off,
the night was growing dark and the
roads were bad; the shops would be
closed, too, before the city's centre could
be reached.
The groom's next friend offered to
lend him the lacking attiie, but he nobly
refused to appear in borrowed "toggery."
He was willing to take time by the fore
lock, and be married without gloves.
The bride positively refused to he mar
ried without gloves. He sat down in a
pet of perplexity, and she flirted out of
the room. Here was a marriage mess,
and severity guests in waiting. Two of
the bride's brothers mounted fleet steeds
and galloped to town through a storm of
mud to buy a pair of gloves. In the
meantime the wedding guests slumbered
and slept. About midnight the gloves
came. No matter if they were a mile
too small, they were regulation white
kids, and that was enough to satisfy the
whimsical belle. She was married to
white kids, and the feast went on. Life
is long, and gloves are fleeting, and that
fastidious belle may yet be handled with
out gloves.
The Catitai. ok Greece. I half ex
pected to find here n half asleep people,
azily following old fashioned ways of
proceeding; but, on the contrary, a more
wide-awake government cannot be found.
It is, you know, a constitutional mon
archy that rules free Greece. It is like
England in having a king, but in every
thing but the name he is much more like
our president, since in many ways his
power is circumscribed.
Athens his some oitv-hve or lilty
thousand eopIe. But within three or
four miles are many little village--, thus
making everything here more stirring, as
the country tow ns do their "-.hopping"
here. Indeed, I find it hard to realize
that I am not iu a real live Yankee city.
Here the king, queen, ministers, and of
ficers dress like Americans, and thus, the
fashionable example being set, fully two-
thirds, if not more, dress exactly as we
Io. We are in the midst of a wide
awake, intelligent, go-ahead people, and
it is hard to believe that they are "hea
thenish in religious views. 1 he fact is
thev stand where German infidelity does
on materialistic grounds careless of
the whole subject ot religion, saying it is
no concern of theirs.
They Love to "Walk. Colonel For
.v writes from London that an English
n
woman thinks nothing of a twenty-mile
walk in a day, and he has two valued
.r..l lv no means iuvenile friends, a ircn-
tlem in and his wife, who think lightly of
going on Ix)t to me crystal i-aiace,
Sydenham, which is twenty miles away.
In a word, the English love their walk as
they do their dinner. It is a part of
their life, and they cannot and will not
do without it. I heard of an English
man who was condemned to le hung,
and whose greatest regret during his
imprisonment was that he could not take
his 'constitutional.' This habit of walking
makes most Englishmen and women iu
different to what we call comfortable
fires, and as to stoves, they consider them
unhealthy, and they are rarely found in
TU . lM,.l. - L I
their noines. i ucj isugu a us w ueu wc
for extra blankets, and shrut? their
shoulders, evidently thinking us some
what effeminate, to complain of a chill
the existence of which their stronger con
stitutions and weather-worn skins cannot
recognize.
Tbk rag-gatherers' trade is picking up.
Mm. Belknap.
The Washington correspondent of the
cw lurk orld says of Mrs. Belknap
wife of the late Secretary of War : "She is
tall, has a well -developed and rounded
form and graceful carriage. Her features
are regular, her complexion clear am
fair, while her hair is black, and her eyes
black and very bright. When first Ihc
camu to Washington Mrs. Belknap was
the widow of a Mr. Bowers, w ho had died
some months before in Cincinnati. Her
family name was Tomlinson, ami she was
a native of Ilarrodsburg, Kentucky
Her father. Dr. Tomlinson, was an cmi
nent physician, and highly connected
He had a largo family of sons and daugh
lers. All of the latter were noted for
their beauty, and weic reigning belles of
their native State. The mother of .Mrs
Henry Clews, of New York, was one of
the sisters and the second and present
wile of General Belknap another. Mrs
Amanda Tomlinson Bowers was married
two years ago in December to the Secrc
tary of War. She was heartily welcomed
to the Cabinet circle here and has held a
foremost place among tho ladies who are
acknowledged queens In society. She
has been especially distinguished lor her
ready tact in receiving the strangers who
each week throng the houses of tho mem
bers of the Cabinet. She always had an
appropriate greeting ready for each
comer. She has appeared to the greatest
advantage this winter aud has gone much
into society, us from her position she was
compelled to do. She displayed great
taste in dress and wears the richest mate
rials. All shades aud colors are becoming to
Mrs. Belknap's style, and she indulge 1 i'l
Worth's most effective combinations. At
the many entertainments she has attended
this winter he has looked equally beau
tiful, whether attired in pale rose-colored
silk, with soft, creamy lace, or turquoise
blue silk, with long garlands of flowers
trimming, the long corsage aud very
short sleeves, as well as the tablier and
trains of ivory-tinted silk, trimmed with
lunge and ace, or even her carriage cos-
tunics, one; of black velvet and lace,
another of blue velvet, trimmed with
bauds of pheasant's feathers. She has
many other toilets of tho richest material.
Mrs. Belknap is dainty from heud to foot.
Hats ami boot match each costume. Her
foot is the smallect in Washington. She
wears numlier one and a half shoes,
though she is five feet six inches in height.
Slippers and lioots of satin for these dainty
feet come from Paris, and are always
enough neeii to be admired. The towel
Mrs. Belknap most frequently wears
consist of a string of large pearls around
her neck, w ith a beautiful pendant of dia
monds. Her ear-rings ure two solitaire
hops for each ear. An aigrette of dia
monds is the only ornament she ever
wears on her t-ha-tcly head, amid the
puffs of dark hair that are always ar-
inged to suit Ihe contour of the hand
some luce.
The Mikado of Japan.
The term mikado, used to designate the
Emperor of Japan, is of doubtful tty
mology. The word docs not occur in
the most ancient Japanese books', but is
the one, out of many names given to the
enijieror, which has obtained the greatest
currency. The derivation of mikado
usually accepted by the Japanese is from
mi. honorable, august, and kado. a gate.
quivalcnt to the Turkish title Sublime
Porte. Tenno is the official designation
now used for the emperor, and all Japa
nese. ministers and consuls are accredited
as representatives of "his imperial ni i-
esty, the lenno of Japan." The first
mikado, Jim mil Tenno, who is usually
regarded as an historical character, began
to reign about 000 ii. c, since which
time one hundred and thirtv-onc emper
ors have occupied the throne. The reign
ing mikado 18o) is Mutsuhito, sec
ond son of the emieror Koinei Tenno
and the Empress rujiwara Asako. He
was born in 18 0, succeeded his father
February '.I, 18GH, and married Huruko,
laughter ot Iclnjo lad.ika, a noble of the
second degree of the first rank, born in
June, I8.1O. Abandoning tho habits of
seclusion practised by his ancestors, the
mikado appears iu public, aud gives uu-
lience to the memocm ot the diplomatic
corps in .In pan, to his own officers, ami
to the foreigners employed in Ihe govern-
ment service. He dresses, eats, rides
ml acts like a European sovereign.
Apphtont Amerif'tH Uydoptrdt'tt, recited
edition.
GkoUOE WlItTEKI eld's Nkvtness.
V person who has no regular home, but
is thrown among all classes of society,
and sees life under many forim, is very
apt to grow careless in his cr-.onal hub
its. It is hard to retain a scrupulous re
gard for personal neatness when mingling
daily with those w ho arc slovenly. White
field, the famous preacher, however,
though moving from placn to place
all his life,1 was fastidiously neat. His
love of order amounted to a passion. He
could not write unless books and papers
were carefully arranged on his desk. He
never retired at night until he had put
every article of clothing and all the furni
ture of the room In perfect order. If the
tables at which he sat as a guest, or the
parlors to which ho was iuvited, were
slovenly in arrangement, it always dis
turbed his comfort, though he was too
much of a gentleman to show it by word
or sign.
More Doa than Mex. Dr. Il;d field
writes from Nashville to the Cincinnati
Commercial :
"It is a humiliating fact that there are
more dogs in Tennessee than men. Ke
turns from the dog tax assessment from
thirty counties, the first to reach the
Comptroller's office, show 47,574 men and
70,780 dogs1. These thirty counties do
not embrace quite one-third the State,
but from them we can judge pretty fairly
what the totals will be. When all the re
turns arc in, the totals will no doubt show
that Tennessee contains very nearly one
hundred thousand more dogs than men.
This is among the 'great inducements to
immigration' to the farming class who
would naturally want to raise sheep iu
this favored climate,"
Uiitterwkk'n On Meter.
During one of the few cold snaps that
we have had this winter, says Max Add
er, the gas meter in Mr. Butterwick's
house was frozen. Mr. Huttcrwlck at
tempted to thaw it out by pouring hot
water over it, but after unending an hour
upon tho effort he emerged from tlieconteit
with his feet and trousers wet, his hair
full of dunt and cobwebs, aud his temper
at fever heat. After studying how ho
should get rid of the ice hi tho meter ho
concluded to uso force for the purpose,
ami so seizing a hot poker ho jammed it
through a vent hole ami stirred it around
inside of the meter with a considerable
amount of vigor. lie felt the ice glvo
away and lie heard the wheels buzz
around with rather more velicmeucc than
uual. Then ho went to sleep.
He noticed for three or four days that
tho internal machinery of that meter
seemed to bo rattling around in a re
markable manner. It could bo heard
all over the house. But he was pleased
to find that it was working again in spite
of the cold w eather, and he retained his
serenity.
AlxMit two weeks afterward his gas bill
came. It accused him of burning, dur
ing the quarter, 1,500,000 feet of gas, slid
it calleti on him to settle to the extent of
nearly $330,000. Before Mr. Butter,
wick s hair had time to descend after the
first shock ho put on his hut and went
dow n to the gas oilicc. He addressed one
of the clerks:
"How much gas did you make at tho
Blank Work last quarter?"
'I dunuo; about a million feet, I
reckon."
"Well, you've charged mo in my bill
for burning a half million more than you
m tide, and I want you to correct It."
"Less see tho bill, llm in -111 this
is all right. It's taken off of tho meter.
That's what tho meter says,"
"S pose 11 it does; I couldu t have
burned niore'u you made,"
"Can t help that. I he meter can t lie."
"Well, but how do you account for tho
difference?''
"Dunno. 'Taint our business to go
nosing and poking around after scientific
truth. We dejcnd on the meter. If that
says you burned six million feet, why
you must have burned it, even if w e never
made a foot of gas out at the works."
"To tell the honest truth," suid But-
tcrwick, "that meter was frozen, ami I
stirred it up with a poker and set it
whizzing around."
'Price just the same." said tho clerk.
"We charge for pokers Jut like wo do
for gas."
"You ain't actually Lolng to have tho
audacity to ask mo to pay (f;)i),0()() on
account of that porker.
"If it was 8700.000 I'd tukv it with a
calm lies! that would surprise you. Pay
up or 1 11 turn oil your gas. '
"I urn it oft aud be hanged, exclaimed
Huttcrwlck, as he emerged from tho
office, tearing his bill to fragment. Then
he went home, and grasping that too lav.
ish poker, he approached the meter. It
had registered another half million feet
riuce tho bill was made out. It was
running up a score of a hundred feet in
a minute. In a month Buttcrwick would
have owed the gas company moro than
the United States Government owes its
creditors. So he beat the meter into a
shapeless mass, tossed it into the street
and turned off the gas inside the cellar.
He is now sitting up at nluht writing
an essay on "Grinding Monopolies" by
tho light of a kerosene lamp.
m m
Activity is Not Always Eneroy.
There are some men whoso failure to
succeed in life is a problem to others, as
well as to themselves. They are Indus
trious, prudent and economical ; yet after
a long life of striving, old age finds them
still poor. They complain of ill-luck.
They say fate is always against them.
But the fact is that they miscarry Iwcause
they have mistaken mere activity for
energy. Confounding two things cssen
tially different, they have supposed that,
if they were always busy, thev would be
certain to be advancing their fortunes.
They have forgotten that misdirected
labor is but a waste of activity. The per.
son who would succeed In life is like a
marksman firing at a target ; If his shots
miss the mark they are a waste of jiowder.
So in the great game of lite, what a mtiu
doc must be made to count, or it might
almost as well have been left undone.
Everybody knows so mo one in his circle
of friends w ho, though always active, has
this want of energy. Tho distemper, if
we may call it such, exhibits itself in
many ways. In some cases the man has
merely an executive faculty when ho
should have a directive one; In other
language, he should make a capital clerk
for himself when he ought to do tho
thinking of the business. In other cases,
what is done is not dono either in the
right timo or in the right way, Energy,
correctly understood, is activity propor
tioncd to the end.
An Intei.lioknt Don. Mr. Thomas
E. Bent, of Sudbury, Mass., is tho ow ner
of a dog of tho Newfoundland and St.
Bernard breeds, which seems to ho pos
sessed of more than ordinary instinct,
taking into consideration the fact that
he has hail no special training. Among
other examples of his intclllgence.tlie most
noticeable seems to be found in his will
ingness to act as news-carrier, which duty
he has performed for al-out two years for
his master. The residence of Mr. Bent Is
several rods from the main highway, from
Wayland to Sudbury, and over which
Moses Weston's Wayland and Sudbury
stage coach passes every week-day even
ing shortly after six o'clock. By this
conveyance Mr. B. receives a Boston paper
and his faithful canine messenger meets
the coach each night, picks up the paper
and carries it to tho house of bis own w ill,
always waiting until he hears the con
veyance approaching, before leaving
home. Once in a great while the coach
does not arrive at the usual hour, and, in
the event of another heavy wagon being
on the road, tho rattling of which re
sembles that of the stage, the dog goes to
meet it and consequently gets "fooled."
The dog is about five years of age, and it
a great favorite,
4
X
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2.
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