THE INDEPENDENT.
rviimiD
Erwy Tlmrsdaj Evening, .
BY
II. II. LUC K,
Office, - - - Old Court House,
HILUBBOKO, OREGON.
THE INDEPENDENT
Advertising Hate:
LrOiLADTRHTINKIIKm (r !.)
DLdeBenduBiit
On wiiar or !. cn Insertion It M
On xjuarti eneli ulirju'nr iiiHerUtJii.. ........... N
llt'MIr.M A Df KnTIMKNRWTN (coin.)
I q. 1 4 ( v culV ooljl col.
TIME.
Is
t luonlb ... rati 4 u 00i i on 111 90S)
Ttrmi r Snbarrlptlon (In ratrs.)
St nil opt per reur $2 3ft
81nRl copy tlx month, I 30 A'OL. 4.
HILLSBORO, WASHINGTON COUNTY, OREGON, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1876.
NO. 35.
lOUUjM 00
iuyii uuuiucr ................
10
Washington
Ji
I mouth.. . 4U I Ml 7 j Ml 10 IU IT KJ IT M
3 aiobtba... BOuj T Ui 101 II UU )I(U 'JIIU KM
inuuth..., T toj 10 01 14 9(1 IB UJ IT fti 14 HI 10 00
1 ytr 10 (M 14 Od JO UJ J9 (W. H (M
Finally.
Is thy rose sweet and red?
Cloudless thy sky o'er head?
But finally, '.
The bloom Is faded,
The blue is shaded,
And bare the tree.
Is thy friend fond and true? ,
Is thy hope fair and new?
But finally,
Bereft, forsaken.
Thine all is taken.
E'en life must flee.
The fresh green leaf is brown.
The stormy rain beats down,
Its Autumn knell:
Warm was the greeting,
Glad was the meeting,
And then farewell.
Mortal, such is thy past,
Time gives us worst things last.
Therefore be wise!
Seize the best treasure.
Fame, love, and pleasure,
Tlf eternal prize!
Germantoten Teleqraph.
The San That Warms.
The sun that warms the fading flower,
May cheer, not change Its doom.
May stay its fate for one brief hour,
But ne'er restores its bloom!
So, when the withered heart receives
The light of love too late,
Its charm awhile the wreck relieves,
But cannot change its fate!
That heart, if yesterday caressed,
Perchance had 'scaped decay!
That smile, which yesterday had blest,
Comes all in vain to-day!
Then, oh! Love's vow of honor keep
Nor let Affection wait;
For vain repentance vain to weep,
Wheu kindness conies too late.
Chakles Swain.
The Raven' Voice.
I was a very bold and fearless child,
and my brothers anil sisters often dared
rue t go into lonely places in the dark,
or do perilous feats of various kinds,
which challenged I never refused. Often
they set out to play tricks on me, but it
usually happened that they fell into their
own traps, while I performed my part in
safety.
Very possibly the consciousness that
they were about to dupe me gave me
more courage than I would otherwise
have had, for any unusual noise or ap
jiearance would be attributed to one or
.another coming to frighten me.
But, night or day, I used to go straight
up to and touch whatever seemed fearful,
and finding the object of doubt resolved
itself into very simple elements, I ac
quired an ease which stood me instead in
times of real danger.
We lived in a large old house built of
English "oak, and bearing its nearly two
centuries very lightly. It opened to the
.South, and ttie two large parlors looked
to the East and West.
The dining-hall and spacious kitchen
formed the square of the house, while at
the West and back was another large
room sometimes called the great porch,
and at the East and back was the dairy
and another porch.
There were three stairways leading to
the upper rooms, and a garret, whose am
ple space was broken only by the great
chimney in the centre.
We had a gay and lively house, and
were used to a great deal of company and
visitors, for my parents were greatly
given to the old-fashioned virtue of hos
pitality. The humblest wayfarer coming in at
the porch was entertained kindly and
bade Godspeed, as well as the guest
whose elegant carriage and span drove
round to the front door on the Southern
side.
I am not going now to tell you of my
handsome "gentle" parents, or my broth
ers and sisters only about myselt.
There were a great many of us when
we were all at home, especially in the
winter holidays, but at times we were
nearly all away.
Boarding-schools, academies, traveling
all claimed us at various times. Yet
it was rare indeed that one was ever at
home alone.
It, so happened, however, aud to me.
It was a summer day, and warm, bright,
and beautiful. The morning promised a
lovely day. Just after our early break
fast, a merry party came riding down the
lane, in carriages and on horseback, and
calling joyously for my father and mother
to accompany them on a pleasure trip.
They were accustomed to this mode of
impromptu festivity, and gaily answered
that they would soon be ready.
It was only the day before that my
father had returned from the Australian
gold fields, aud had brought with him a
bag of gold. I knew he had this, for I
had seen him the night before counting
some of it, and putting it into another
bag, and I badly wanted to ask him to
give me one of the pretty coins, but was
too well taught to interrupt or tease him.
Thomas brought the chaise to the door.
Father's favorite black horse, whose coat
looked like lustrous velvet, and who
stepped V so proudly, was pawing the
ground impatiently as he appeared. He
handed iu my beautiful mother, and I
stood looking on with childish pleasure
at her beauty and rich dress that so be
came her. My father suddenly turned
to me and siiid. taking his key to his
iron-bound Hox :
"Run, Anrfc, and get me the little bag
you saw me put away last night."
I was proud to be so trusted; but when
I ouicklv returned with it, he was al
ready in the. chaise, and part way to the
crate. . lie iorfKeu out anu saiu :
"No matteir, now, Ann, you may put it
back again, fcr we are going another
road, and I -.will Day Harris to-morrow.
Take care of the key, my dear, and good
bye." (
"Good-bfce. and a good time to you,'
I lauchinArlv reDlied and ran back to
V9 m
pat the treasure iu safety.
I haatened indoors again to see them
Wind do On the private war that leu
l - - .
through our extensive grounds, and half
wished I were old enough to go with them.
Hearing a slight noise, I turned and saw
a stranger, a figure not unusual, a man
with a bundle hung on a stick.
He was leaning on the stone wall, and
apparently looking after the carriages.
He came forward in a moment, and
asked if he might sit down and rest, and
if I would kindly give him a drink of
beer. Beer was as free as water with us.
Of course I said yes, and with lightj
steps soon naa mm a suosianuai iunc
of bread, cheese, and beer, which he came
into the kitchen to eat. Betsey and Han
nah were busy, hurrying to finish their
work, for they were going out to tea and
to spend the evening. They talked gaily
about their visit, paying little attention to
the stroller, who was quietly eating. He
had laid his straw hat on the floor, and I
saw that his head was bald on the top,
and the thinnish hair brushed up from
behiud over it.
He had prominent ears, low forehead,
and large mouth with a retreating chin,
where grew a stubby beard, of grizzly
black, like his hair. I did not know
why I observed all this, or his eyes, small
and hid under grayish brows, that seemed
to glance furtively about him when no
one apieared to be looking.
His voice was harsh and croaking, and
had startled me when he first addressed
me.
We were used to strollers of all kinds,
as I have said. Perhaps I was mentally
contrasting his repulsiveness with my
father's noble and dignified features.
He seemed to me very ugly. I was
glad when he had finished his meal, and
risen to go.
He asked permission to light his pipe,
which was readily granted. He went
out directly, passing accidently through
the diuiug-room and ouf of the great
hall, where he lingered for a moment or
two.
He had thanked me civilly enough for
his breakfast, but the girls laughed and
nodded as he went out, and said they
should think I had picked up a raven.
All that long, bright day I was busy
and happy in the flower garden, or sew
ing, or reading; and when the girls left,
looking very cheerful at their half holi
day, I wished them a merry time, and
told them not to hasten home, for
Thomas should come for them.
I expected my father and mother soon
after eight o'clock, and I told Thomas he
might go about that time, as they would
soon be home, and it looked a little like
rain.
Heavy clouds were gathering in the
West and the thunder rumbled sullenly.
He took the covered wagon and old
gray, and, before he stepped in, said re
spectfully :
"Miss Ann, I think you had better
fasten the doors, as you may be all alone
for a short time if I go so soon. Would
not you rather that I should wait till
your father comes?"
"Oh, no, Thomas; I don t mind ueing
alone iu the least, aud you ought to go,
lest it should rain hard, for it is more
than two miles to ride, and they may not
wish tji leave in a minute. I expect
father and mother every moment. Don't
wait."
So Thomas left, and the wagou rattled
merriiy up the lane.
I bolted the doors because he naa tola
me to, for otherwise I should not have
thought of it.
It grew dark rapidly, and the thunder
began to peal heavily, while the wind
rose, and the flashes of lightning grew
more vivid aud frequent.
I went into the east parlor, and looked
out to the south, but the sudden light
ing up of the sky and the following
darkness did not interest me long. 1
could not see out very well, either, as
the honeysuckles covered the windows.
The large mirror reflected me as I
turned away to cross the room, and I
stopped a moment with a natural vanity,
for I was young and fair enough to look
upon.
I let all my hair fall loose, and wound
it in long, shining brown curls over ray
fingers. It certainly did look handsome,
for it was very thick, and fell below my
waist, aud curled almost of itself as it
fell.
There came a great flash of light, and
I saw distinctly reflected in the glass a
face looking in the window. It was an
iustant of terror, but I neither screamed
nor moved.
The face could not see my face, and 1
kept my body still, anil rolled the long,
shiuiug rings off my cold, white fingers.
It was an ugly tace, ana l recognized it.
I had seen it that morning, and I knew
what lay before me. I prayed inwardly
a brief prayer for help.
Turning from the glass, I went stead
ily toward a table that stood near that
window, and on which I had left my can
dle. I moved steadily as usual, and took
up the water-pitcher and looked in it,
then took my candle aud went toward
the kitchen.
The lightning kept flashing, but the
face did not come again. I dropped my
candle on the kitchen hearth and put my
foot on the wick. I set down the pitcher
on the dresser, and with soft, light foot
fall hastened through the west room up
the front stairs, into my father's chamber,
and softly closed and bolted the door at
the head of the stairs. I unlocked his
box, took out both the bags of gold, re
locked it, and made my way into the
great chamber.
I heard voices; I heard the doors tried
below. I knew it was not my father. I
dared not tremble nor grow faint. I
went through that room and two others
to the garret stairs. I hardly breathed.
I heard a window pushed up; more than
one person came in at it. 1 felt about
me in the dark. There was a sliding
panel in the inside of the stairway.
pushed it and it rolled back. I entered
into a long closet under the stairs, and
slid the panel carefully into its place. I
felt cautiously to see if all was safe. 1
pulled ray dress close about me lest it
might be caught, and the door not closed
tight. Then I waited. I heard steps
coming up the stairs. I heard a search
through all the rooms below. My heart
beat till I thought that each bound mast
be audible. I heard voices one voice,
the Raven's. I knew that harsh croak.
It told me nothing. The face had re
vealed all to me. The man had seen the
bag of gold as he leaned over the wall
in the morning, unnoticed by the gay
group. It was all plain to me. He had
gathered from the girl's talk that I might
be alone, tie had returned and watched.
He had brought accomplices.
Very soon the steps and voices came my
way. 1 couia distinguish the words that
were spoken.
"Drat her I she must have seen you."
"No matter; we'll split the box open
with this axe."
I knew the axe was in the little porch.
Thomas hadset .it in when he had done
chopping the brush, as it looked like
ram.
I heard the steps and voices move
away, a dull, crashing sound, and then
stifled, angry tones. I knew they had
opened the box, and found nothing but
the papers. I knew they would now
search for me.
I heard them as they looked into
every room and closet, and came up the
stair separate. They all met at the foot
of the garret stairs. A thick board was
between us. I thanked God that the
panel was close shut. I knew it, for no
ray of light come through.
"She must be up here," said the Raven,
"and we will soon have her."
"I'll warrant she is here, and I'll
wriug her neck if she makes a noise about
it."
But the thorough search was ended,
and the voices grew very angry and full
of frightful oaths and tbreatenings.
They sat down on the garret stairs to
hold a parley. A spider ran across my
face. A spider puts me in mortal fear.
It was with a great effort that 1 kept
from screaming.
"Come," croaked the Itaven, "let us
go aud get the silver; that will be some
thing that will be something."
"Curse the silver. It s the gold I ve
come for, and I'll burn the house if I
don't fiud the girl I So let her look initl"
A cold perspiration came on my fore
head. Would they perforin their
threat?"
"Good! Then the rats will squeak,
Down drop the money-bags, and we'll
choke the girl to make her dumb."
"Hold your noise. The old man wil!
be coming home. We'll be caught here.
Be quick."
"Who cares for him I He s only one. A
bludgeon will give him a handy little
headache as he comes in.
"And his wife?"
They spoke low, hideous words that
made my flesh creep. I was almost
reaily to call aloud, to open the panel, to
give them the gold, and bid them go.
They got up, and the steps aud voices
went down. It was horrible there iu the
dark. I was stifling.
I moved the panel slightly. No light
entered. I slid it softly back. My reso
lution was taken.
I would get out of the house, run down
the road, aud meet my father. I would
save him.
I left the gold in the closet, shutting it
in close. I stole down two steps into the
chamber lelow. I knew there was a win
dow open there. I crept across the room,
Iistemug keenlv.
I lifted myself cautiously on the win
dow-ledge, and caught a branch of the
cherry-tree which grew close to the
house.
Swinging myself lightly out, I hastily
descended the trunk of the tree, and
found myself on the ground safe.
xSo. lhe lightning flash betrayed me.
The Raven's voice shrieked hoarsely,
"There she goes! Catch her I Quick!
This way !"
Out at the front door came the pur
suers, hardly ten steps from me.
I dashed toward the thick shrubbery to
put them off the track.
Fortunately I knew the way, every step
of it. They were guided solely by the
sound and flashing light.
"Shoot her by the next flashl" cried
one.
My flying feet struck loose boards.
I was passing directly over an old, un
used well, very deep, and it gave back a
hollow, resonant sound.
Almost the next moment I heard a
crash, the report of a pistol, a heavy fall,
oaths and a deep groan.
bhuddering, I sped on through the gar
den, up toward the cider-press, over the
stone wall, down the hollow, up the hill
side, over the fields.
Jso steps followed ; no voices shouted
after me. I ran down to the second bars,
and let them down.
It began to rain a few great drops,
then fast, then it poured. I was wet to
the skin.
I ran on, for I heard advancing wheels
coming rapidly. I stood in the road aud
cried "Father I father I"
The chaise stopped. Another chaise be
hind stopped also.
It was our next neighbor's, who lived
a quarter of a mile further on.
"Ann, my child. Good heavens! What
is the matter? What has happened?"
I told the whole in a few words, amid
eager exclamations of joy at my safety,
of surprise, even of anger because Thomas
had left me alone.
"Don't blame him, father; I insisted on
his going."
A hurried consultation took place.
My father was very brave. Our neigh
bor was very timid. He proposed going
on to uis nouse and returning witn
weapons.
In the meantime I had got into the
chaise and crouched down at my mother s
feet, who was half crying, and wholly
thankful to feel me there.
We rode on, and came to our gate un
der the willows. There were lights in
the house, bat all seemed still. Nothing
moved. My father put the reins in my
mother's bands, and opened the other
gate that led up the lane.
"Will you go home with Nathan!" said
be.
"And leave you here? No."
"Take your wife home, Nathan, if you
will, and com, back.
"We will stay by you."
"Let us reconnoitre, then, a little."
They got oat, leaving us sitting still.
The rain fell leas heavily. They got
something that would do for weapons
from the tool-house. They went all
round the house all was quiet. They
went in.
We sat still, speaking few words, my
hand clasped in my mother's.
"Thomas is coming!" I exclaimed, eag
erly. "I hear the wheels."
We called to him as he came to the
gate, for he could not see us.
He drove through, and called out :
"What is the matter?"
We told him sufficient, and he left Bet
sey and Hannah, and went in at once,
with only the heavy whip.
We did not sit long. Nathan came out
directly.
"What have you found? Who is there?"
"Nothing. Nobody."
"Are they all gone?"
"Yes, with some of the silver, and a
few things. We don't know what yet."
The horses were put under the shed,
and we all went in.
My father said, calmly:
"We will take a lantern, Thomas, and
look round out of doors a little."
I knew they would go to the old well.
I stood aud looked out of the window,
and saw the gleam of the lantern as it
moved.
In a very few minutes they came back.
"One of them is dead," said my father,
"and the other lies at the bottom of the
well and groans. The third has escaped."
Ther laid boards across some barrels
in the shed, and brought up the dead
man and laid him on them. II is com
rade, who fell in the well, had shot hiin
in the head as he plunged through the
boards. His ugly face was still uglier.
It was the Raven.
That night my father's prayers were
very solemn, and his embrace was close
as he gave me my ginxl-night kiss.
The robber in the well was bruised.
but not seriously hurt. The law took
him to punishment.
The third escaped to Amercia, aud
afterward reformed.
I was never left at home again alone.
Tale: of 31 y Grandmother,
lloogley's boy has been spending his
summer vacation with his grandfather
and grandmother down East. He got
home this week, and a few evenings ago,
white sitting on a curbstone adjusting a
rag on his sore heel, he was telling Squeky
one of his cbums) what a good time he
had. The following is his story:
"I've got the boss grandmother for tel
in' stories, and don't you forgit it! tihe
is as much as 200 years old, with a great,
long, crooked chin, and her face kinder
ooks like pork scraps, but she s a bully
old gal, aud can't she tell some awful In
jun stories? She says she's got three mat
tresses stuffed with Injun hair that my
grandfather killed and scalped when he
was a young man. AH of my grand
mother's pillers is stuffed with Injun's
hair, too, she says. My grandfather he's
got an old flint-lock gun that I guess was
made when Noer cum out of the Ark.
My grandfather used to shoot bears'n
tigers'n elefuuts'n crockerdiles, and all
kinds of birds and everything. Sly
grandfather shot his giin inter a lion or
wolf one day, and the wolf growled
mad'n run out of the woods'n run inter a
naber's house'n swallered three little chil
dren. My grandfather runs'n grabbed
the wolrn skinned hunn saved the chil
dren fore they's et up. Piruts used to
sail up the river in front of my grand
father a house n they used to rob folks
and murder ein and git their munny ; they
used to murder a thousand folks a day
sometimes and berry the gold in a cave.
My grandfather was all alone one day,
and some piruts cum and set the house
afire, and my grandmother throw'd bilin'
water on the piruts, and they left four mil
lions of gold and run off. You ought to
see my grandmother and hear her tell
things." Botlon Sunday Courier.
A New Process for Preservino
Wood. A new process of preserving
woixl from fire and decay has lately been
nvented. It consists first in kiln-drying
the wood, which deprives it of all moist
ure and much of its volatile turpentine
and other inflammable matters; it is then
put into suitable cylinders, in which lime
aud water, with sulphurous acid gas, are
forced into the pores of the wood under
considerable pressure; the wood is then
removed, dried, and ready for use. The
chemistry of the process consists in the
formation of a soluble sulphate of lime
by means of the sulphurous acid aud
the lime; this crystallizes as a bisulphite,
which oxydizes, and is converted into the
sulphate of lime or gypsum. As this is
an exceedingly insoluble salt, ft is not
easily removed from the pores of the
wood, and not only by its presence pro
tects it as a non-conductor of heat, but
deoxidizes all matters which are likely to
prove objectionable as ferments.
Better Times. At the great business
centres of the country the symptoms of
an improving trade in nearly all depart
ments are most encouraging. The fact
that hope is reviving so generally is good
and substantial testimony. Merchants
from the interior are sending forward
orders. Money is in demand for moving
the crops to the seaboard. The farmers
are in want of fresh supplies, and that
sets the whole machinery going. Manu
factories are decidedly brisker, almost
all the mills that were suspended having
been set to work again. Trade shows
the improvement everywhere. People
look and feel better. To be sure, there is
no magic or miracle about it, but there
is a change, and a positive one. Even
those who profess they do not see it have
much less time to complain in. The
decks are pretty thoroughly cleared for
free action in trade, and as soon as the
conditions are right we may expect to see
a prosperity tor the next twenty years
that the country never knew before.
Man. Ploughman.
i he jsngtisn law now secures to any
wife her own earnings in any occupation
which she carries on separately from her
husband. Previous to 1870, the wife
had to apply to a magistrate and procure
a judicial order setting apart her own
wages from the control of her husband,
and many continue to apply to the courts.
under the supposition that it is necessary.
Dio Lewis on Wholesome Food.
For Breakart. Oatmeal porridge with
milk and sugar.
Or, Graham mush, with a little good
syrup.
Or, cracked wheat with milk and sugar.
Or, baked potatoes with bread and
butter.
Or, beef. teak or mutton chop, with
baked potatoes and bread and butter. -
If you are thin and need fat use
the first three; if you are too fat use the
last named two.
Drink cold water or a little weak coffee.
Dinner. Beef or mutton, roasted or
stewed with any vegetables you may like
(though tomatoes should be used sparing
ly), gd bread and butter, and close the
meal with a glass of weak lemonade. Eat
no dessert, unless it be a little fruit, and
eat nothing more until the next morning.
There is no rule in regard to diet about
which I am so fixed in my convictions as
that nothing should be eaten after dinner,
and I think that the dinner should be
taken early iu the day, not later, if it can
be so managed, than 2 o'clck. In re
gard to the precise liour of the dinner I
am not so clear, though for myself 1
o'clock is the best hour; but in reference
to the omission of the third meal, I have,
after long observation, no doubt whatever.
Hundreds of persons have come to me
with indigestion, in some of its many
forms, and have experienced such relief
in a single week from omitting the sup
per that I have, for a number of years, de
pended upon this point iu the diet as the
best item in the prescriptions for in
digestion. I have never met one person
suffering from indigestion who was not
greatly relieved at once by omitting the
third meal.
Eat nothing between meals, not even
an apple or a peach. If you eat fruit let
it be with breakfast or dinner.
Cooked fruit is best for persons with
weak digestion. I have met hundreds of
people who could digest a large beefsteak
without a pang, but could not manage a
single uncooked apple.
I think some dietetic reformers have
somewhat overrated the value of fruit.
Avoid cake, pie, all sweetmeats, nuts,
raisins and candies.
Manage your stomach as above, and at
the end of ten years you will look back
upon these table habits as the source of
great advantage aud happiness.
For thirty years I have been a constant
and careful" observer (I have no hobbies
about diet), and in the light of my own
experience and these long observations, I
assure you the table habits I advise are
vital to health and happiness.
Boilino Indian Pcddi.no. Take one
pint of meal, pour over it a pint of boil
ing water, stirring briskly meanwhile;
add to this one tablespoon heaping full
of butter, one teaspoouful of salt, one
pint of sweet milk, two eggs, one heaping
teaspoonful of cream tartar, and one-halt
as much soda; flour enough to make a
stiff batter; turn the batter iuto a white
muslin bag, and drop the bag into boiling
water in wbich a piece of salt pork or
corned beef is being boiled. Be sure
there is sufficient water so there will be
no danger of boiling dry. Some people
think fresh or dried fruits make a nice
addition, plum, blackberries, raspberries
or strawberries preferred. Stir the fruit
in the batter before putting it in the bag
ready for boiling. The pudding will re
quire one aud a-half hours for boiling;
when uone, sup ou me musuu cover, tui
in slices, and serve with rich cream and
sugar, or maple molasses, if preferred.
This makes a good dinner for wash day,
as it is easily got aud does not require
lengthened time for preparation. ue
sure there is plenty of water in the kettle,
else the pudding will be heavy and
oversalted.
Canned Pears. Pare the fruit and
leave it whole, or halve or quarter it as
you prefer, though that which is whole is
considered the nicest. Do not remove
the stems. Put into cold water as soon
as pared. Place it in the cans more or
.... ma VI
less artistically as you piease. iaca
close. Fill up with a mild syrup, or with
water, and cook in a kettle of water until
sufficiently tender to be pierced with a
straw. Take them out and seal the same
as any other fruit. Any of the above
stewed pears may be canned after they
are cooked, though tue ginger and peel
of the lemon should be removed before
inning.
Pu&ni Pimm no. Heat one nuart of
n!llr mix tliri'rt tablesooonfulB corn
starch with a little cold milk, add two
eggs, six even tablespoonfuls sugar, one
teaspoonful salt, one teaspooniui lemon
or vanilla, and stir in the hot milk. Let
it cook until it thickens, stirring con
stantly. Prepare peaches as for the ta
ble, and put in a deep pudding dish.
Sprinkle sugar over them, aud pour the
pudding over the fruit. Best when eaten
cold.
VrTK- von the Laiivoky. Alwava
mend clothes before washing them. Alum
or vinegar is good to set the colors of red,
green or yellow. A hot shovel held over
varnished furniture will take out white
spots. Ribbons of any kind should be
washed in cold soapsuds and not rinsed.
.... I .
If your nat-irons are rougn, ruu mem
with fine salt and it will make them
smooth. Scotch snuff put on the holes
wnere cncu tuuio vut wmuj
them. Ex.
Pears and Qcinces. Prepare the
quinces and add to tbem, soon as
they commence cooking, an equal quan
tity ot pears, more or icss, wcuruiug m
the flavor of each. The pears should be
pared, cored, and cut to harmonize with
iha nutnr.es. If the Dears are sweet, and
in large proportion, less sugar will be re-
quireti. auu mw juices vt iu
seeds, ana serve coia.
Baku Qoihcks. Stew them as for
alone. When thev are tender.
place them in a nappy, cover them with
the juice, season them to the taste, cover
hm with a. nlatA kad let them stand in
a moderate uvea and bake gently two
nours.
Blistered Feet. To cure fcetblU
tered by long walking, rub the feet at
going to bed with spirits mixed with mut
ton lauow.
Wholesale Matrimony.
A very curious procession took place
recently, says the New York Mercury,
on East Second street. It consisted of
thirty-two young couples, all of them
dressed in the uational costume of the
Bohemian Czechs. The men wore short
jackets, richly embroidered in red silk,
and the girls white skirts and crimson
jackets, with caps of green velvet, em
broidered in goldand silver. The pro
cession, which was headed by a small
band and by a venerable prelate in his
full vestments, moved through .Second
street to Avenue A, and then through
Etsex street to Broom street, wh"re in
the large hall of tliu building N . 'i'il a
ceremony such as has never leen wit
nessed before in New York tk place.
It was simply a wholesale wed. ling ot
thirty-two young Czechs with thirty-two
buxom lassies from the land of Nepotnuk,
the patron saint of 1J hernia. There is
probably no country In the world where
the wedding ceremony Is looked upon
with more religious awe than in B ihemia.
The Czech colony in this city, consisting
mostly of men and women engaged iu
the manufacture of cigars, or iu glass
blowing, has recently received strong ac
cessions, principally from Prague and the
surrounding country. Notwithstanding
the prostration of business, these Czechs
have flourished more than any other ele
ment of our foreign population. They
are very thrifty, soler and industrious,
and they say that there is not a single
Bohemian pauper in the city. Soma of
the female cigar-makers of that nation
ality have relatively large sums in the
savings banks. They are a very energetic
class of females and by no means unat
tractive in personal appearance. There
being no priest here able to perform the
nuptial rites iu the Czech language, the
young couples that were ready to get
married clubbed together aud sent for the
Right Rev. Bishop Iltbelczek from
Prague, to marry them all at once.
Wheu the bishop arrived here, a singular
complication occurred. Tne nuinoer of
couples that had seut for him was found
to be thirty-three, a very unlucky num
ber, and heuce it was determined that
only thirty-two couples should be mar
ried. They drew lots as to which cou
ple should be excluded, and the hapless
lovers who were selected manifested their
disappointment in a very lively manner.
The bishop consoled them by promising
to marry thcru soon. The wedding cere
mouies on Broome street were quite im
pressive. After the service had been read
the older portion of the female audience.
among whom there were many in uners oi
the brides and bridegrooms, burst into
startling lamentations, while the groom
looked unconcerned, and the bride
blushingly dropped their eyes. When
the prelate had blessed them, salt and
bread were handed round and partaken
of by everybody. The bridegroom did
not kiss their brides, the Czechs consid
ering it indecent even for husbands to kiss
their wives in public.
Tue history of burning mirrors of brass
is known. At R me the saored fire was
lighted with apparatus of this kind, and
Archimedes tired the ships which were
blockading Syracuse by conceutratiug
upou them the sun's rays by meaus of a
large reflector. UufTin repeated success
fully the experiments of Archimedes.
With a mirror of very slight curvature,
consisting of a number of pieces of look
ing-glass, tic set fire, at some distance, to
fir and beech planks, melted tin aud sil
ver, aud brought iron to a red heat. Saus
sure later accumulated, by means of a
super-imposed enclosure of glass, the
sun's heat up to a temperature exceeding
that of boiling water, aud Mr Johu Her
schcl repeated these experiments at the
Cape of G"ood Hope at various times be
tween 1834 and 183d. At the same
period the French physicist Pouillet was
engaged at Paris in measuring the carlor-
ific iuteusity of solar radiation, arriving
at the conclusion that the heat emitted
from the sun aud poured down upou the
earth in one year would suffice to melt a
sheet of ice thirty metres thick, aud en
veloping the entire globe.
German Piloiiims Cukkrino the
Poi'R. There was a very curious scene
to-day fJune 21st), at the Vatican. The
Pope, with many cardinals, received a
larue body ot uerman pilgrims who iihu
Just received the Eucharist from the
W . . , If I
hands or Cardiual mdocnowsKi at me
high altar iu St. Peter's, and then prayed
atthe Apostles' tomb in the crypt. Baron
Loc read a Latin address denouncing ty
rannical laws against the Cuurch as a
satanic war against morality. An im
mense number of various objects were
then presented to the Pope, including
chalices, vestments, and liuen iu great
quantities for the use and service of the
altar; also a very considerable sum ot
money. The Pope delivered a long ad
dress. The Voce reports that he spoke
of Antiochus and his ending, and made
some terrible comparisons. The Pojie's
voice is still powerful; It filled the large
hall. Then the Germans begged to siug
to him one of their German hymns, and
when that was finished they gave a Ger
man hurrah, K lebe Piua IX.; hock!"
with three times three. German cheering
is a strange sound in the halls of the Vat
ican. London Standard.
A servant girl employed at Rramu'cld
Hall, Suffolk, England, brushed against
her master with a rlh kettle recently and
so aroused his gentlemanly ire that he
retaliated by striking her on her mouth
several times, thereby breaking her jaw
and necessitating the removaf-of four of
her teeth. She brought suit against him
for damages and was awarded $100, which
wi'l lust about get her a new set of teeth
and "half pay" her doctor. Verily, the
ways of the rank in dealing with the file
are rank indeed in the blessed kingdom.
The new tunnel being built under the
Thames is intended chiefly for the use of
about 8.000 workmen who have to cross
at that point, and who are often detained
by fog that stop the boats. It will be
an iron tube nine feet in diameter, light
ed with gas, thoroughly ventilated and
only tor pedestrians.
Visit to Emcmra'i Home.
At the junction of Lexington with the
old Boston road In Concord stands tho
house of the rarest thinker, tho most
purely literary man in America, that of
Ralph Waldo Emerson. I (correspond
ent of Cleveland Leader) confess the night
of it was far more attractive to mo than
battle-fields and monuments. When so
rare a person as he arises in a community,
tho curiosity that every ono mu.t feel
concerning him, his surroundings, tho
way ho lives, whom he knows, what ho
doe, is not an idle sentiment, but ouly a
restatement of tho old question, upon
what doe this our Ciesar feed that he
ha grown so great? Emerson belongs
to the world, aud should not take it ill
that the world seek to know something
about him. Indeed, he does not unless
it imk him for his uutograph, a request
which disturbs even hi serenity, and ul
ways meets a refusal or pauses unnoticed.
The house is a plain, squuro building,
painted a light stone color, with notfilng
to distinguish it from its neighbors. A
great square yard, well kept but desti
tute of flower, lies In front, and up i
either side of tho street gate is a largo
horsc-chesnut treo. At tho left is a grove
of pines, end on tho right a generous
wood pile, which speaks volumes tor win
ter comfort. Stopping tho carriage a
little to one side, iu order to mako our
observation unnoticed, what was our de
light when the sago himself appeared at
the side-door, crossed the yard, and went
to the bam! Ho had not known before
that we really expected to sou him iu a
Roman toga, but our .disappointment at
his appearance prove that some such idea
mutt have been latent in our mind.
Natural' a tall mm, ho is greatly bent
with study. Hi homo lit'u is almost
wholly spent over hi book, and the ono
whose care it i to relieve him of hi petty
detail is not his wife, for she has been
for m my years an invalid, but hi daugh
ter Ellen. Sho Is tho strong staff upon
which ho lean, aud to her loving euro
shall we owe much that Emerson doe in
this, tho decline of life. Sho has in
herited her father's strength of character,
aud holds, of course, Emersonian views.
An anecdote illustrative of this may uot
bo uninteresting. It seems Miss Emer
son is a member of tho school committee.
Sho also own a donkey. Those faets
coma into Juxtaposition whu Mi Em
erson ride her donkey to visit tho schools.
II at nature is always the same, and,
if the truth be told, the Emersonian don
key has suffered both through hi intel
lectual aud physical nature. What was
to bo doue; send tho towu constablo after
tho boys? PerUh tho though I ! On tho
contrary, a list has bueu made out con
taining the names of all tho boys of Con
cord, and each is to ride tho donkey
once, so that ho may feel an interest iu
him aud no longer torment tho poor beast.
iVt latest advices the plan wa working
well at least tho doukey was. and tho
boys were riding..
The Woman That WVddt! Litmiirtine.
The story of tho tnairisgo of Lamar-
tiue, the great French p ct and statesm in,
i one of romantic interest. Tho lady wa
of an Euglish family named Uirdi, an J
very wealthy, Sho first fell in love with
the pi et from reading his "Meditations
Poctiques." Sho wa. slightly past tho
bloom of youth, but still young aud fair.
She read aud ro-read the "Meditation,"
and nursed the tender sentiment iu se
cret. At length she saw Lamartino in
Genoa, and her lovo becamu a part of her
very life. Not long after this sho was
in ado acquainted with the fact that tho
poet was suffering, even to unhsppine.
from tho embarrassed state of his pecu-
t y t start am.a , .
uisry auair. jui jurcii was not long
in deciding upou her course. Sho would
not allow tho happiuc of a lifetime to
slip from her if she could prevent it. Sho
wrote to tho poet a frauk and womanly
letter, acknowledging her deep interest
and profound retqwet, and ottering him
tho bulk of her fortune, if he were willing
to accept it. Of course, Lamartino could
not but suspect the truth. Deeply touch' d
by her generosity, he called upon tier, and
found her to be not only fair to look upon,
but a woman of a brilliant literary ami ar
tistic education. Ho made an offer of his
hand and heart,and was promptly and glad
ly accepted, and in after years Alfonso de
I. a at (
Lismanine owed uoi more 10 ins wuo s
wealth than to her sustaining lovo and in
spiring enthusiasm.
A Tender Act. Gainsltorouzh. an
eminent English ai tint of the last century,
must have been a very kiud-hearted man,
judging from a story told about hi in.
Words worth told it one day iu tho Zo
ological Gardens to Lockhart aud Hay-
don.
A friend of Gainsborough had a clild,
a sweet girl, who was going away to
school. As her father wa on a sick
bed, he was deeply moved at parting with
her. This fact coming to Gainsborough's
ears, he sought tho child aud said to her,
"My little love, can you keep a secret?"
"I don't kuow, sir, but I'll try." "Well
you come to me to-morrow." She went,
aud he painted her portrait. Tho child
went to school enjoying her secret. Tho
next morning, when the father opened
his eyes, there was tho portrait of his
darling looking at him from tho foot of
his bed.
Difficulty or Excellence. It is
certain that if every ono could early'
enough be made to feel how full the world
is already of excellence, and how much
must be done to produce anything worthy
of being placed beside what has already
been produced of a hundred youths who
are now poetizing, scarcely one would
feel enough courage, perscverence aud
talent, to work quietly for tho attain
ment of a similar mastery. Many young
painters would never have taken their
pencils in hand, if they could have felt,
known and understood, early enough,
what really produced a master liko
Raphael. GoMftt.
We should no more lament that we
have grown old than the husbandman, that
when the bloom and fragrance of spring
have passed away, should lament that
summer or autumn has come,