HaaaMBHnaHBMaHXSSBBSK A Journal for the People. Devoted to the Interests of Humanlt y. " Independent In Politics and Religion. -Ulve to all Live Issues, and Thoroughly' Radical In Opposing and Exposing tho Wrongs' o( the Masses. MES. X. J. DrXlWAT. Editor and Proprietor OFl-ICE-Cor. Front and Htark Klre-eta. TERMS, lit ADVANCE: One rir-j 81 monthgj Threo monthly ..taco 175 -100 Fkex Speech, Fuze Parts, Fees Psortx. Correspondent writing over assumod slgna-I tures must make known their names to the. Editor, or no attention will be given to their, communication. TVF.nTISEMENTS inserted on Reasonable YOLTBIE III. rcvrcxjL.Aovi), Oregon, fkiday, vtjoxtst is; ist'u. 1 W'J' WWWW" f Written for the Xew f orthwcat.1 A Lady Teacher. "My dovet" the bridegroom speaks. To whom? whom, thlnkest thou, meaneth he? Say, O my soul! canst thou presume He thus addresses thee? Yes, 'lis the bridegroom's voice of love. Calling thee, O my soul, his dove! My soul, of native power bereft. To Calvary repairs; Immanuel Is the rocky cleft. The .secret of the Ktalre! Since placed these by the hrldegroonvs love, "What evil can befall his dove t My soul, now hid within a rock, (The "Rock or Aces," called). Amid the universal shock, Is Tearless, unappalled. A -cleft therein, prepared by love,. In safety hides the bridegroom's dove. OThou.-wboon thoV idegroom heart Didst ox a dove come down,' , Within my soul thy graces shed, Establinhed there thy throne; There shed abroad a Savior's love. Thou holy, pure and heavenly dove. ELLEN DO WD, THE EAEMEE'S WIFE. PART SECOND. Entered according to the Act of Conrrrss In the year 1872 by Mrs. A. J. Dunlway, In the of- nce or tne Librarian of Congress at Washington t-ny.j CHAPTER VII. The morning dawned in heavenly oeauty. Great sombre clouds hung over tlie Uolden Gate and diffused theii dripping fringes In the masts and rie ging that adorned the restless, white capped billows of the bay. They ca reBsed the spires of the many churches ana lay solemnly upon adjacent hill tops. Grand radiations from the bril liant sunshine that illumined the east crn valleys lit up the distant mountain summits with gorgeous tints of gold and amber, or, castiug shadows of black upon the cloud rifts that they could not penetrate, threw back bright radiations upon the sheltered portions of the busy harbor. A fog-like rain that for a while had sifted its misty essence over the city rolled itself away, leaving flowers, trees and Jandscapes aglow with wel come moisture that glittered in the hal cyon sunshine. The mysterious patient of Ellen Do wd had risen from her couch, and stepping through the open window, stood gazing from the balcony upon the lovely scene. Ellen watched her furtively for several moments to satisfy herself that reason bad resumed its sway over her long suf fering brain, and then, ordering an In valid's breakfast, Invited her to her pri vate apartments to partake of It. The old governess sipped her tea and ate her toast in silence. Then, at Ellen's bid ding, she disposed of her frail form upon an invalid's chair and in a low voice began her story: "I always felt that I should find you sometime, my dear, persecuted child. If It hadn't been that I loved my boy so well, I should have prevented much of your suffering. Ellen, in the eyes of God I was that man's wife." "My dear old governess, what do you mean? You certainly don't intend to say that you were the wife of that sing ing, grinning old ghoul that was deter mined I should marry him? It can't be possible! You were not an accom plice to such a horrid scheme!" "Ellen, listen to me. You have chll dren; not one, but many. If somebody were to have a claim upon all of your children, and bold that claim as a con stant menace over your head, threaten ing to destroy those children's opportu nitlc8 for life by denouncing them as il legitimate, when they were as the very apple of your eye, and you had wealthy parents who would cast them off and curse and spurn you If they found that you were not above suspicion, what would you do?" "I had the trial once, or something very nearly like it, aud I defied the world." "Well, dear, you had more fortitude than I. You are brave and I was not." "But, my dear governess, you mystify me utterly. I have not the most remote suspicion of what you would tell me." "It is a long etory, Ellen, and a fear ful one." "Do you think you are strong enough to tell It? Itemember you havo been very 111. I am anxious to hear your story, but if you are going to allow It to excite you, I must curb my impatience yet a little longer." "Nonsense, my child. Nothing ex cites me now. I lived for fifteen years in an insane asylum. They put mana cles upon me and called me crazy, but I was aane as anybody, and I out-wltted them. Ha! ha! ha!" The patient's laugh was strained and harsh, and Ellen, fearing a return of de lirium, prevailed upon her to quaff n soothing draught, from the effect of which she soon sank into a peaceful, quiet sleep. Satisfying herself that her patient would sleep for several hours, Ellen left her side and sought the balcony for quiet reverie and retrospection. Whst of this mystery? Hack her brain as she would, Ellen could remem ber of no single act of her governess or tutor during the years in which they were installed in the old mansion of the D'Arcy estate that could havo compro mised th.e sweet, dignified woman who had always appeared the very soul of honor. Suddenly, however, tho thought flashed across her brain that she had once caught the twain in earnest, law toned conversation in one end of the long corridor up-stairs ; and the also re- membered having said to bergoverness, "If I knew that you two were in league against me I would murder you." Hour after hour rolled on, and still she paced the balcony, with he hal lowed glory of the gorgeous day wast ing its beauties upon her unheeded. The door-bell rang wlth-sharp, sud den, successive peals that startled her. Hastening to the parlor with a flutter ing heart, and wondering much at her trepidation, she found herself face to face with a stranger whoso'nandsome eyes gleamed familiarly upon her. He was tall and dark, with beaming kindly eyes, and a singularly melodious utter ance. "Have I the honor of addressing Mrs. D'Arcy Dowd?" extending, bis hand and looking wonder! ngly into the eyes of his ho6teas. You have guessed my name, sir, but I do not recollect you." Ellen was trembll ng visibly. She made great exertion to control her nerves, but an unaccountable agitation possessed her. Where had she seen those eloquent eyes ? Had'they come to her in dreams when the dull realities of life, ai she had found it, clothed themselves with the bright, pure habiliments of that which might have been? "You don't remember me?" queried the stranger, speaking Blowly and gaz ing at the bewildered woman with a mute appeal to her recollection, ren dered doubly impressive by his own poorly suppressed agitation. Ellen clasped her hands over her face and stood for a moment In silent reflection. "I had hoped, though why I cannot tell you, that you would recognize me at once. I am sorry to bring up remin iscences wuicn i would to uod you could forget forever, but do you rcmem ber the foreman of a certain jury, who, in the long ago, dared in tho face of al most irresistible circumstantial cvi dence to add the weight of his bumble convictions to the eloquent plea that a certain persecuted little woman made so ably in her own behalf?" "Mr. Worth, is it possible? I have never met or even beard of you since" Ellen stopped abruptly. A marriage ceremony that she would have fain for gotten, with Its unpleasant associations as well, passed before her mind in a dis tinct panorama; "Yes, I remember," said the newly found acquaintance. "Business in the East required my presence immediately after that time, and when I returned to the West I found that you had taken your departure for the setting sun." "And you didn't forget tho poor, slan dered, persecuted, sick, but Impatient and rebellious "grass widow?' Ob, how I hate that term of reproach! I have said many a time that I would rather die than bo called by such an epithet. But I couldn't die, neither could I longer endure my bondage; sol found the epi thet fitted me more lightly than the yoke. But how did you happen to find me? I supposed myseirsecurely hidden from all old associations until very re cently." "I havo never lost you, madam at least never in my own Imagiuings. You have blossomed into just such a woman as I knew you could become the first moment that I met you. No doubt you have had many eligible offers of marriage. I fain would add my name to the list. You may think my wooing very singular. I did not intend to speak to-day, but it is done, and I cannot re call my words. Will you be my wife?" "Mr. Worth, be seated," was Ellen's calm reply, although her face was crlm son and her eyes downcast. Her voice was steady and her manner firm. "I cannot give you an answer now," she resumed, after a pause. "My heart an s were 'yes,' but prudence and good sense say 'wait.' Let us talk of something else." Repelling the advances of her agitated suitor with an imperious wave of her shapely band, once disfigured by the most uncongenial toil, Ellen proceeded to Inform him of the presence of her mysterious governess in tho house. Edgar Worth sprang to his feet. "Is my mother here?" ho asked ex citedly. "She escaped from me at the hotel In less than an hour after the steamer landed. I have hod the police on the look out for her ever since she got away. Why, Ellen, she Is as mnd as a March hare!" "Is my old governess your mother, .tvdgar wortuy will wonders never cease? Tell me all about her, do!" "Yes," Bald a voice, "and old Kll lingswortli, the 'singing, grinning ghoul' you used to talk about, Is Edgar Worth's father. I am not mad, my son Edgar. My mind Is .shaken, I know, and sometimes I say unreasonable things, but if I can make my home with Ellen D'Arcy Dowd, and spend the rem nant of my days In atoning for the sor rows that your wretched father caused her, I shall be sane enough. Edgar, be cause I loved you I permitted that old man, who, being your father, had a le gal right to take you from me if I did not do his bidding, to contract with this poor child's grandfather for her band in marriage and the D'Arcy estate. Ho said our marriage was false. He threats ened me with exposure and disgrace. I never lived with him one hour after he declared that I was not his legal wife; but he threatened to take you from at forever, Edgar, If I should aver bint to Ellen Dowd the relations we had borne to each other. But I found I trcw his legal wife, and when I would have warned you, Ellen, ne sent Vac to an insane asylum. Oh. I was crazy then! It was no wonder they put' man-acles-upon me. Ha! ha! ha!" With tender, spmpathetlc touch and wooing, tender wonts the lunatic- was quieted, and after a time persuaded to retire to ber room. Quiet once, more reigned In the house. The gorgeous beauty of the day was gone, and tho quiet eventldo stole, over the city while yqt theso two lingered, living over the mysterious. parts ofeach other's history, unraveling here and there a tangle- in' their Uvea' nneven threads. Edgar's father, a miserly, unattractive mortal, possessed of wealth-, had stealth ily married his mother when but a child and carried her from her sunny home. Why the strange match was made he did not know. Ills father had been unsuccessful In speculations. Fall ing to secure wealth with his first mat rimonial alliance, he had denied lis va lidity, and to screen her boy from the blight of Illegitimacy, the poor mother had been frightened into silence in re gard to tho relation that had existed between them, even while ber husband was making overtures of marriage with a weak old man who fancied that he was protecting the grandchild whom ho was destroying by pledging her hand and body to endure a galling, hated yoke. To be continued. 0HAEL0TTE BBOHTE. BY MART GOOnELL. There are always those ready to write the history of great men aud women; those standing expectant, waiting to chronicle their great deeds aud clothe them with undying fame. Such worn en as Joan of Arc and Charlotte Corday, women who havo departed from their usual position and seem to bo of differ ent natures from their sisters generally, aro more eagerly taken as the theme of the historian. Invoking the aid of Clio, his muse, and soaring with her through the realms of fancy, forgetting, mean while, the realities of life, he is filled with enthusiasm, with admiration; he rejoices to record their mighty deeds, their heroic actions. And, the soft glamor of romance over all, he places them upon the pedestal of fame, as heroines, as models, as almost more than mortal. We find this tendency to hero worship developing itself especially in this age. We also find a tendency to elevate this nearly unnatural character, to the depreciation of true unobtrusive greatness which seeks not high-sound ing titles and great notoriety. True greatness need not exert itself to be known. Its influence Is fcltas naturally as the genial Influence of the sun. A woman whose life Is spent In trying to benefit others, whose motives aro pure and unselfish, need not fear lack of ap preciation. She will be loved and hon ored by her family, her friends, by all who know her, if she Is not known to the world at large. Among the many such women who have lived we find Charlotte Bronte, one who is known to many, but perhaps not so widely as some less deserving of honor. She is perhaps better known as the author of "Jane Eyre," this being her most cele brated work. Tho history of this wom an's life, her writings, and especially her character, are Interesting because of her harrishlns and sullerlngs, Her peculiar temperament, the cultivation of her intellectual powers In the face of so many difficulties, and her wonderful genius. Her home was In the northern part of England; it was known as Haworth Parsonage, situated In the lit tle Village of Haworth. Left mother less at an early age, and her father not allowing her to associate with the vil lage children, her life was very lonely; and Itwasallfe tending to cultivate a thoughtful disposition. Her father wob a minister, and is described as having been very eccentric Ho subjected his children to a severe course of discipline which told upon their character as well as their health in after life. Of her life at school and difficulties in gaining an education we will Bay but little, as time will not nermlt a lonethy detail. Her school life was attended with much Buf fering, an the schools were In unhealthy situations, and not well regulated. She attempted teaching, but on account of poor health, failed. Still, in spite of all these difficulties, she succeeded, by studying and diligently applying all of ner time, In gaining a good education When she was not at school, she re mained at home cheering her father, at tending to her home duties, and devot ing her leisure hours to study and writ ing, though longing for better oppor tunities ot developing her mind, yet never repining or complaining of her hard lot. She reminds one of some sweet flower, seeming strangely out of place among the bleak, barren hills of Haworth, yet cheering all by Us beauty and fragrance. Although she had written both poetry and prose from an early age, ou almost every variety of subjects, and with marks of considerable genuls, she did not succeed well In any of her writings until the publication of "Jane Eyre." In the publication of this work In 1847 she more than realized ber fondest hones. It was reviewed lu the most celebrated literary magazines of Eng land, and spoken of and praised by all. It was -read with, equal Interest by the educated and uneducated as well. It wsa some time before the author was discovered, as heretofore she had writ ten under an assumed name. Great was the astonishment of the literary world when the author wob found to be an obscure country girl, whose name was known to but few. This book fully deserves the fame it received; for, be side the story being one of intense inter est, there is an undercurrent of phil osophic thought all the way through, giving the most profound views on sub jects of the greatest interest. The story Is that of a little orphan girl going through life nearly alone; struggling for truth and right, aud the highest at tainment of all, a beautiful, perfect char acter. In her heroine, "Jane Eyre," we find, as it wore, a minor of herself; clear and truthful. Here are pictured her own thoughts, feelings and purposes; her straggle for knowledge; her experience and sufferings at school. From this book we may Judge better of the character of the author than we could from "volumes of history of her life. First In tho character of the orphau, her own strong love for the beautiful, the wierd, the romantic; ber hungering for human love, especially a mother's. Her genius also appears in early life, Just as she represents In "Jane Eyre," in relating stories to her school mates; such ghastly, wierd, marvelous stories, that her listeners sit scarce dar ing to breathe. Right hero we may see what an influence one's surroundings In early life may have upon their charac ter. Her home was in a desolate place, withiu or nearan old churchyard. Her window overlooked the old church with its gloomy surroundings; its moulder iug slabs of marble; the old moss-cov ered monuments, partly fallen away; then away in the back-ground the bleak moors, aud high, barren hills. Imagine the white moonlight playing over such a scene, throwing Its distorted shadows around over the graves, and the old monuments standing out like great, white spectres. What wonder, being accustomed to such scenes as this, that her mind should have been filled with strange, wild fancies manifesting them selves in. her writings In after years. In this book she expresses her religious views so simply and clearly, yet with such depth of wisdom and extent of views, as to contrast strongly with tho narrow-minded fanaticism, which she portrays well In her "St, John Rivers." It seems strange that, with all her clearness of perception and strong faith lu religion, she should have always felt a lack of assurance and even doubted at times as to whether she was a Christian. Thcro is no strong mind, however, but that hesitates and ex amines before accepting great truths. Ab Tennyson says of some one: "Perplext In faith, but pure In deeds, At last, he beat his music out. There lives more faith in honest doubt. Believe me, than In half the creeds." There is an' uudertone of melancholy underlying oil her pure, sweet nature; manifesting itself throughoutall of her writings, softening tho most brilliant passages; felt through all iikeBome low, sweet minor chord in music, making the wholo more beautiful. She has been censured by some for a tendency to what is known as modern Spiritual ism; but any one carefully reading her writings, will find this to be false. This misapprehension only rises from her superior refinement of mind, her clear ness in defiuing sensations and power of expressing nice distinctions, fine shades of thought, which so few possess. This is shown well in a passage where she speaks of a calm evening, and where some sudden noise breaks in upon the silence. She says: "A sudden noise broke in on these fine- rippliugs and whisperings at once so far away, and yet so clear; which effaced the soft wave wanderings, as in a picture, the solid mass of a crag or the rough bole of a great oak, drawn in colors dark aud strong, on the fore-ground, efface the atrial distance, tho azure hills, sunny horizon and soft clouds where tint melts Into tint." Her skill Jn reading and portraying characters Is equal to that of Shak speare. There Is nothing unnatural in the story as one often finds In Dickens and Thackeray, no Incongruities, but harmonious throughout. This Is a book designed to accomplish good In the world. None can read It without ex periencing a feeling of moral elevation, of desire for purity and strength such as she pictures in her heroine. It is, as some one says, "A book that sets hearts beatiug pure as well as fast." About the time of the publication of this book the author was called to pass through severe trials; tho disgrace or her ouly brother and the death of her two sisters transpiring within the same year. For a while she was almost overcome by these troubles so cruel, so unexpected. But seeing her father's grief, ahe restrained when In his presence trying to comfort him, tbe night and darkness only witnessing her sorrows. It seems sad that just when her Joy at the success of herwork might have been so great. It should have been marred by so great - ' Just as In a calm summer day, we hear tbe roar of the distant thunder, and see tbe cloud Increase that at first was no larger than & man's hand; then comes sorrow. But thns it Is with us all, inj8hufflnT out of tho. wagon, fell in a the midst oMight coraeth darkness, ditch. The old man got up, said his the storm In all Its fury; Just so unex pectedly -comes sorrow. In 1849, ;at the earnest request of her friends, she visited London. There she was received Into the highest society everywhere, was Introduced to all the great suthors.of the day, and acknowl edged.as.oneof the brighestof the many literary etam. She Is described as having been very quiet and retiring " in her manners, though when drawn into conversation, evincing remarkable conversational powers. She was small, almost child llko In appearance. Her features were irregular, but accompanied by sweetness of expression as to corapensato for all lack of beauty. There was always a pensive sadness about her mouth and eyes, which lent a superior charm to her face. The whole face was expressive of Intellect and the purity of the soul within. She appears to Lave been entirely un affected by the honors bo lavishly bestowed upon her during her visit to London, and returned home the samo dutiful daughter as before, loving her home and Its duties. In this again she shows her superior qualities of mind; having bo much clearer apprehension of duty, looking so far above all motives seen by tho world at large, as to bo en tirely unaffected. After her return from London, she still continued writing, and her productions were always well re ceived by the public. In 1S35 she married a curate of her father's parish, anil had lived with him but a few short, "happy mouths, when her bright young life was ended that life bo short yet so full of good works, that it seemed a loug one. She lived so earnestly, labored so faithfully, that she accomplished more than mauy do in their three-score years aud ten. But now ero her life seemed scarce yet be gun, it was ended. So passed away the hope of the lit erary world aud the pride of her native village. Now "All was ended, tho hope, the tear, and the sorrow. All the aching or litart, the restless, unsaUsfled longing." Then all tbe longings for goodness and truth are satisfied, all the Ideals of beauty and perfectness realized. As the morning "mists roll awny before the ris ing sun. so all doubts and troubles van ish before the gloriouB light of the great All Father. She had sounded tbe shal lows of time, and found them to be as nothing compared with one wave that breaks upon the shore of tin- great ocean of eternity. Gladly would we trace her course lu that land of light and joy. Gladly would we know her thought as her eyes first opened on these scenes of wondrous beauty. But why seek to read these veiled mysteries, for, as Mr. Browning somewhere says: "Death quite unfellaws us, HeU dreadful odds between the live and dad, And make us part an those at Babel did. Through sudden Ignorance of a common tongue." We, with these eyes, can see no farther than that lone grave in the old green churchyard at Haworth, over which the bleak winds sweep and the white moonlight plays just as they did before. But we may derive benefit' from this example of a beautiful life. We never see a beautiful character without admiring it; and what we ad mire we instinctively imitate. Thus wo see that we may derive benefit from all great lives. Then let us read our lesson taught by this. Let women know that they can be intellectual, be wise, attain a perfect character, and If they havo no higher, motive, gain fame without despising-home and its duties. Let them know that woman' b greatest exaltation, is not 4n changing, but In elevating" and purifying her nature aud becoming as truly womanly as possible. And then there is another lesson that we may learn. Do not be discouraged by difficulties through life, difficulties In any undertaking, lu gaining knowl edge that many: have experienced and succeeded perhaps-the better for having. Let us not be overcome by troubles and sorrows but go on hopefully as she did, recognizing in all a higher !ower, a Di vine Providence. Though. we know not their Import, still let us trust, "Let ns be patient, these severe afflictions Yet from tbe ground arise; But oftentimes celestial benedleUons Assume this dark disguise. "We see but dimly through the mists and vapor, Amid these earthly damps; What seem to us but sad funereal tapers May be hoaven'sdUtantlamps." One Wife Quite Espuait. We clip the following from a California let ter to an Eastern Journal: Atl incident or crossing the plains In the early days was told by a clever lady at the break fast table oue morning In 'Frisco. A Dutchman and bis wife had traveled West aud arrived at Salt Lake, where they baited for a few weeks. The Mor mons cot around tbe old Dutchman aud eoaxeJ him to their rauks. After re- tiring one night to thelrcanvos-covered wagon bed, tbe good Dutchman broke the matter to hit better half, hinting to her that the Monnons told him he had better "stay, settle among deru, and take some more vlvcs." "How many vives you tlnks you vants?" asked Katrina. Tbe Dutchman thought "flfe more would niako a half dozen already;" wbereupqn the old wife got her pawn boddlce, and slipping front It what tbe Dutchman called tbe "nrest-board, vlch was made of Visconsln hickory, was very tough," and she laid tbe hickory nirM nn fnnr oil LU uw lunu, nu, Derce ana last on u u,u "stomach was very cold, but nts- uacx It was varm." HU wife cried out, "How any vive-you'tluK: -Vu vanta-now ole fool?" But tbaJDutcbman felt and oxpretaed that ons was euough. Labor and Capital. I have been watching some stone-cut ters at work next door. Tho boss Is ab sent. Three men have been at work all the morning splitting ott a mass of granite. It is very plain that if one of the men nan taken me separation or that moss of granite by contract, he would have done It in half an hour. But these Ingenious creatures have al ready given three hours to it, and it is pretty clear that they intend to make half a day of it. I don't know what the workmen themselves receive per day, but. the occupant of the prem ises has to pay live dollars per day for each of theso skilled laborers. So the cracking off of that piece of granite costs him seven dollars and a half. I would make a wager of Ave to one that either of the three men could do it in twenty minutes. I am not writing the paragraph to complain of the lack of honor and manliness -among workmen, for nerhans I and (I betr vour nanlon. deat reader) vou under the same cir- cumstuuees might be truiltv of the same mean, sneaking theft, hut mv ob ject Is to say a word on the system of won? oy tne day. it is utterly demor alizing. It is bad altogether. .Last summer I resolved unon two small sub-cellars under my own house. They were of tho same size, and simi larly circumstanced in every way. The nrst was excavated under tne manage ment of a boss, who charsred me hv the day for his men. His bill was $39 50. falling upon an unemployed Irishman, tasked mm touig out tlie other cellar for a definite sum. He suggested Sf0, but we finally fixed ou 58. Patrick tried hard to finish the job in one day, but he failed, and had to work two hours next morning to finish it. JMne-tentbs or the troubles between labor and capital would disannear at once If we who need labor could tret at i the workmen directly, and not meet everywhere a boss who so manages that the laborer shall perform but hair u day's labor, while we are required to pay in many cases ut least three times as much for the work performed us we should have to pay if we could make our con - tract with the workmen themselves, who in their turn would often double their watres. and, what would be even more precious to them, preserve their seiifte of manliness. My own experience with plumbers aud steam-piping would prove a still stronger lllustratiou of the value of the Idea I am urging. Dia Lewis in To Bay. Miss Anthony's Sentence. We apprehend the sentence In this case brought disappointment to Miss Anthony, if to no oue else. "The ludir- ment of the Court is that she uav a fine of oue hundred dollars and the costs of the persecution," and then, as if Im- the Judge added, figuratively to all the weaker sex, suffragists included "There is no order that you stand committed until the fine is paid," the interpreta tion of which literally is: "The payment of that little bill need not trouble you, Miss Anthony. Of course we would not let a man off so easily, but seeing you area woman," etc etc. And all this when she asked no elemenev of the court and demanding the rigor of the law as her right as an American citizen. The recognition would havo been grati- lyingeven u conveyed in a sentence to prison, certainly more palatable than, this dismissal like a wilful naucrhtv child who is given one nioro chance for reformation without the rod. But Miss Anthony, mind you, does not promise never to do so again." nor declare her, sorrowond purpose of amendment. She of healing the wounds of political mar- tyrdom iu ' feminine pursuits and worn- enly cares." She means aggressions now, if ever, war that will end iu some- Know wuen uic iruiuneL call la souinieil. and greater than ever will be the gath- eriug of women to the standard which has only gaiued recruits by this pro-i longed trial. Judge Seldeu has earned a happy fame in conducting tho defense, and Miss Anthony may reasonably rejoice in the lustre his forensic- eloquencu has given her cause. Rochester Evprcss. Turned-np Noses. Mrs. A. turns up her nose at some thing Mrs. B. does or lias done, and Mrs. B. lives to see the day when she turns up her nose at the Bame conduct iu Mrs. A., forgetting the record of her own his tory. Thus Is the air continually more or less filled with inconsistent turued-up noses, when really there is uo occasion for one to think himself or herself better than another. Truth reveals that mortals are all err ing, and one time or another every one is guilty of that which memory would rather blot from the record. It Bounds well for people to aver in lofty style that they never did anything of which to be ashumed. There is not, and probably never was, a person so perfect that to a greater or less degree lie or she has never done wrong, wil fully or .Ignorautly. In either case a blush of sliauio Is but a slight token that the spirit has realized higher and better things, and has riseli above the possibility of committing the same error again. Women are at a decided disadvantage iu regard to shortcomings. But natu rally uo better than men, they are ex pected to be angels. If by any chance there is occasionally found a woman whose wings have beeu soiled by the sordid or other evil Influences so rite iu this world of men, she is iustautly and foreverbranded. Faults which, are excused in men be come crimes when committed by wom en, for which the supreme court of so ciety finds them guilty aud deserviug of banishment for lite. Ta crave the license which society gives to men wll not mend matters at all, but lf women would look with a lit tle more complalsancy upon all grades or ber own sex, the yoke of injustice would not wound quite so..deep or fre quently as now. Elm Orlou. -The Shah is. so daintv in his dipt tw nothing but gold fish aud silver eels are gooa enouga lor mm. . b , , " v.imuuaiBua , winter it is too com; in sumraor the with thoughts of euterlng a I'rotestuut j flies stray in, or, if they are netted. tho Sisterhood, or of oflering her services to dust sifts through the nets. Xow, f can the torelirn Missionary Board, nor even toll iw.rst, u-r.r. ci. thing besides a geutlenmuly obeisance, thing of the sort, to 'take the taste out.' and polite dismissal. V,e are not In-! A house that Is never aired has every formed where the next Suffragist Oon-UOok and corner filled, with stala ventiou will hold forth, but wo shall all rwinr of noird How Alum is Obtained. ' In some portions of Europe alum stone, a grayish colored mineral, Is found la large quantities, from which the best alum of commerce is procured; in Italy this stono is obtained from quarries by -blasting, and, when exposed for a short, time to a moist atmosphere, becomes friablo and et'entually falls to pieces. The first process In tho manufacture of this "variety of alum Is the erection of parallel plIcB of these stones, ar ranged In regularly formed layers, on . each side of which, and In close proxim ity, channels are excavated and tilled with water. A gentle heat lsthenar, El led, and the water sprinkled over ths eaps at frequent Intervals. By this treatment the stones soon commence to pulverize, but the moistening Is con tinued for several weeks, as It facilitates the separation of their constituent ele ments. When completely pulverized, the powder is thoroughly boiled in ves sels especially prepared for this purpose. This process causes a subsidence of earthy ingredients, and an evaporation of all volatile foreftrn substance?. The liquid is then withdrawn into other vessels, and allowed to remain undis turbed until the alum appears in tbe form of crystals, which is usually the case in the course of a few days. This Is termed Roman nlmu, and is regarded as the most valuable variety in the mar ket, because possessingfewer impurities than any other. It can be readily recog nized by the auburn tint seen on the surface, which is imparted it by ths presence of minute particles of the sul phate of Iron. Another variety of alum is manufac tured from alum slate, a species of sandstone containing a large quantity of clay, which Is extensively dissemi nated throughout different portions' of tlie I tilted mates anil Canada, in its preparation, tne slates, like the alum rocks, are arranged in regularly formed masses and subjected to a certain umouut ot neat aud moisture. -At Whitby, where the most extensive (manufactories of Europe are located, these masses are often built to a height lot one hundred feet square. Owing to tne composition ot these slates, twelve months, and often more, are required for the burning process. After an artificial tire has been contin ued fur several weeks, no additional food is necessary, as the chemical changes in the Ingredients will furnish auilicient material for combustion. When thor oughly pulverized by this process the powder is placed in large vessels of wa ter, where the soluble salts they contain are washed out, after which the liquor is boiled, and, for the purpose of elimi nating all impurities, condensed by the agency of heat Into a powerful solution of copperas and tlie sulphate of ammo- I nia or hasln lnm Tills liquor, thus ; condensed, is then conveyed Into largo tanks, where the iron Is chemically sep- mation of crystals ou the sides of the tanks. These are agaiu dissolved, and the solution placed in casks, around tho sides of which, in a short time, the alum crystals are re-formed, and these, when tney necome iree irom moisture, aro ready for market. It is estimated that j Gil tons of alum slate are required to one ton of alum. X. Y. Mercantile Jovr- nal. TJnaired Chambers. us by a correspondent in the Cwmtry itemicmuiw "I pass some houses in every town whoso windows might as well be sealed in with the walls for any purpose they. have but to let In the light. Thoy are never opened, summer or winter. In when I pass him in tho street there is such a smell about his clothing, i always wish for a snlfl of cologne, or heartshorn. or burnt feather, o? mm. hh.a ..r.Aiiiv ooi.i,. 7 which, as the weeks go By, literally reelc in their hiding places, "Who has not wished sometimes to bans a new servant's clothimr out of doors 'some frosty night until it should be thoroughly aired? But I havo seen the fine ladles come sweeping into church with their velvets aud silks, when said velvets and silks gave un mistakable evidence or having been linncpH in tuaf. atlfti almf-un nlm V. n w. Oh, what a tale that ordor of pork and cabbage tells about tlie lady's style of hiuse-keeplng! The very garments of the children tell the same, story of un cleanliness. It is bad to have unwashed clothes, but there may be an excuse for it. But what excuse can there be for unaired ones, when air is so cheap and free? There is death in such unaired chambers. Better a swarm of flies or a cloud of dust, better frost and snow in a room, than these intolerable smells. Dear girls, tbe first thing in tbe morn ing, when you are ready to go down, stairs, throw open your windows, take apart the clothing of your beds, aud let the air blow through it as hard as it 1II. There is health and wealth In such a policy. It helps to keep away, the doctors with long bills. It helps to make your eyes to sparkle and to make love your presence. Girls who livedo close, shut-up rooms, can only be toler ated ut the best in any circle." Receipt eor Making a Fashiona ble Woman. Take one hundred and one jiounds of fleh und banes, bore holes in the ears, cut oil" the Btnull toes, bend the back to conform to tbe Grecian bend, as the taste Inclines, then add three, yards or lluen, a hundred yards of ruffles, seventy-five yards or edgiug, eighteen of dimity, one pair of silk or cotton hose, six yards of flannel em broidered, ou pair of balruoral boots with heels two inches high, four pounds or whalebone Iu strips, two huudred and sixty yards or steel wire, hair a mile of tape, two pounds of cotton or wire hem isphere, fifty yards or silk and other dress goods, one hundred yards of point lace, four hundred yards of fringe and other trimmings, twelve gross of but tons, one box of pearl powder, onosaucer or carmine, one bushel of hair, frizzled and fretted, one quart of hair plus, ono pound or braid, oue lace handkerchief, nine Inches square, with patent holder, perfumed ottar of roses and mtislc. ana let Pygmalion admire hi' bandlworlc uwa wa wws,u auwua UU IICU t?k! tf La