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TERMS, IN ADVANCE: QS?S
Six months! 1300 V- '
Three months
A Journal for the People.
Devoted to the Interests of Humanity.
Independent in Politics and Religion.
Alive to all Live Issues, and Thoroughly
Radical in Opposing and Exposing the Wrongs
ol the Masses.
Free Speech, Free Press, Free People.
Correspondents writing over assumed signa
tures must make known their names to the
Editor, or no attention will be given to the'f
communications.
ADVERTISEMENTS Inserted on Reasonable
Terras.
4 F;
e VOLUME "V. POTfcTX.AJNrD, OREGON-, FRIDAY, DECEMBER lO, 1875. NTJIVJCBER. 15.
MADGE MORRISON,
The Molalla ilald and Matron.
By Mrs. A. J. DUNIWAY,
AUTHOR OF "JUDITH BKID," "ELLEN DOWD,"
"AMIE AND HENRY LEE," "TOI HAPPY
HOME," "ONE WOMAN'S SPHERE,"
ETC, ETC, ETC
Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the
year 1875, by Mrs. A. J. Dunlway, In the office or
the Librarian of Congress at Washington City.
CHAPTER I.
A lone emigrant wagon had baited
upon a rolling upland in the beautiful
valley of the Willamette, adjacent to a
running stream that came dashing
down with rippling music from the
gulch, a mile distant, in whose wooded
depths the sparkling spring from which
it drew its substance hid itself sereuely
away, alike from the glare of the sun
and the chilliest breath of the wind.
Hard by the wagon a pair of calves
were picketed, their mothers quietly
grazing within call, and three yokes of
sturdy oxen, tired with the fatigues of
the day, were lying near, chewing the
cud of evident satisfaction.
"You won't be gone very long, will
you, Mark?"
"Guess not, Nancy. But you needn't
worry about me. Just see to it that
everything's snug about the tent and
wagon; for like as not there's a storm a
brewin'. My rbeumatiz twinges con
sid'able. I'll be back afore long if I'm
lucky."
Sosaying, the husband started for the
woods upon a sort of limping trot, fol
lowed by a faithful watch-dog that had
accompanied them during all the weary
months of journeying toward thesetting
sun.
The work about the camp was soon
finished, and then followed a season of
dreary, anxious waiting.
"Mercy ! how the wind whistles down
the caflon ! I fear that we are to bavea
terrible night of it. Mark ought to
have been back an hour ago. Keep
still, children. You are better of! in
bed. Night will soon be upon us. How
I wish your father would come !"
The speaker, Nancy Morrison, was a
faded woman of five and thirty, with a
babe in her arms, which she hugged
tightly to her shivering form, as she
peered out into the gathering darkness,
looking in vain for her husband's re
turn. The family had traveled far with
their teams of oxen, and the rations of
salt meat and sea-biscuit, which had
constituted their almost entire bill of
fare for many weeks, had become ut
terly distasteful to the faded mother and
hungering babe; hence the determina
tion of Mark Morrison to secure some
game, with which he knew the wooded
gulch to be well supplied.
It had been with many misgivings
that Mr. and Mrs. Morrison had de
cided, months before, to leave their
comfortable, but narrow Indiana quar
ters; and, bidding farewell to friends
and relatives, take up their weary line
of march across the, as yet, almost un
tracked regions of the great so-called
American Desert, in search of un
claimed acres for the use of their grow
ing family. Not that there were not
untitled lands in plenty adjacent to
their little Indiana home; but these
lands were in possession of men who
would neither sell nor use them; and
so, while they were given over to the
abode of sheep and swine, humanity
must needs sally forth into the untamed
wilderness and become companions of
the panther and coyote more neigh
borly and accommodating than their
brother man. Health, too, was a
weighty consideration, for though Mark
Morrison was not a man of feeble con
stitution, be had all his life been
troubled with periodical attacks of ague,
with of late years a tendency to rheuma
tism, all of which he hoped to get rid of
in the new country beyond the Rocky
Mountains, of which he had often re
ceived tidings.
Mrs. Morrison had protested long
against the proposed removal, for she
shrank from the possible dangers of
desert and wilderness as only a woman
will as she feels the helplessness that
accompanies her lot when little children
depend upon her for that protection
without which the race of men and
women would soon be extinct. Yet, in
spite of her fears and protests, she at
last yielded a reluctant consent to the
importunities of her husband, as thous
ands of women do every year, when in
tuition teaches them better, lest their
so-called obstinacy may entail responsi
bility and possible blame upon them
selves, in case their premonitions
shall prove unfounded.
And so, after many months of labori
ous wandering, behold Mrs. Morrison,
friendly reader, with her little ones
gathered at her knee In the great
wagon, a furiously threatening storm,
wierd harbinger of a night of howling
blackness, screeching through the
gulch, and wailing in fitful gusts around
her; wild animals and yet wilder sav
ages in the near-by forest, and no habi
tation of the white man within at least
a hundred miles of that heaven-favored
spot where her husband bad that day
decided to pitch his tent and become an
extensive free-holder.
The children of Mark and Nancy
Morrison numbered six, the two eldest
being girls, aged ten and twelve, a pair
of twin boys aged eight, a toddling
prattler of two, and the baby, of not yet
half a year. Death had made two deep
and badly-mangled chasms in their
household the year before, and the lines
of sorrow upon the face of the bereaved
mother were as ineffaceable as signifi
cant. A gust of wind, stronger than any
that had preceded it, was followed by a
blinding dash of rain.
"O, children! what can keep your
father?" wailed the anxious wife. "A
tree may have fallen upon him, or a
wild beast or a savage"
"Mother!" cried Madge, the younger
of the two daughters, whose sharp,
black eyes, irregular features, straight,
glossy, black hair, powerful frame, and
deep voice betokened wonderful strength
of both character and muscle, although,
fashioning our opinion after the usual
models, she was excessively coarse and
homely, "don't cry. Father's all right;
he's lbst his way in the forest and built
a fire and lain down to wait till day
light. Go to bed, do !"
"But you don't know he's all right,
Madge!"
"I do know it, mother! I can see
him!"
"Nonsense! you crazy simpleton!
Hush and don't bother me!"
Mrs. Morrison was indeed excusable
for discrediting this phenomenal "sight
seeing," of the nature of which she was
wholly ignorant. Besides, the poor
woman was half crazy with terror lest
her husband's death should occur, and
leave her alone and helpless in the un
inhabited wilds where tbey had rested
from theinvanderings.
Dwellers in well-built, substantial
mansions can sit comfortably before the
glowing grate and listen to the chilly
blasts without with a keen sense of en
joyment. "When the winds roar around
the gables, bowl in the chimneys, wail
through the corridors, whistle at the
keyholes, or sing in JEolIan sweetness at
the insterstices in the plate-glass win
dows, the dreamer by the fire-side can
lazily think and plan and be happy.
But the poesy of all these conditions
found no response in the soul of Mrs.
Morrison, as the cover to their wagon
leaked like a riddle, and the unsteady
vehicle rocked from side to side in the
howling darkness.
"Madge! Madge! are you asleep?"
cried the mother, at last.
For a long time she had not spoken,
and the children, either asleep from fa
tigue or frightened into silence, had lain
quietly in the wagon, with their heads
covered.
"You told me to bush, and not bother
you !" cried Madge, from beneath the
bed-clothes.
"Can you see your father now?"
asked the woman, inclining her ear for
un answer, as though, in her dire ex
tremity, she were consulting an oracle.
"I haven't looked since you made me
hush," answered Madge.
"Look now, won't you ?"
"No !"
"Do, Madge!"
"You'll say I'm crazy, and I s'pose I
am. What makes you want to talk
with crazy people? I'll go to father
when it gets light. You go to bed.
The rain won't wet you through the
quilts."
"But is your father comfortable ?"
"How should I know ?"
"Madge! you'll kill me!" cried the
mother, desperately.
"Not if I know myself," said Madge.
"Then why don't you try to see for
me?"
"I did !"
"And what did you see?"
"I told you."
Mrs. Morrison saw that it would be
useless to question her strange child
further. She usually had no faith in
the "sight seeing" with which Madge
had worried her for years, and the child,
knowing this, seldom so far forgot her
self as to intrude it upon her.
And still the storm howled piteously.
Thoroughly exhausted at last, the anx
ious wife crept shivering into her bed,
beside the sleeping two-year-old, and
clasping in her weary arms the puny,
crying babe, whose wail smote the ear
of the screaming night with a prophetic
agony, she tremblingly awaited the
long, long-coming morning.
At last the storm, like an exhausted
child, sobbed itself to sleep, and the
dawn beheld it weeping upon the!
bosom of the quiet earth like a lonely
widow, over whose surging soul had
settled the calmness of despair.
Madge was astir with the faintest
glimmer of the dawn. Rising as
stealthily as though she were bent upon
securing some coveted prize, in which
success depended on seorecy, and clam
bering over the other inmates of the
wagon without arousing even her ex
hausted and apprehensive mother, the
child siezed an axe and started on a
brisk run for the timbered gulch.
Straight and swiftly on she ran, paus
ing now and then for an instant, with
her eyes shut, as if to close her senses to
external things, and then bounding on
more rapidly than before, till high
above the encampment in the valley
she crossed the rippling stream that the
night's revel of elements had swollen
into a considerable river, and then,
more carefully heeding her wherea
bouts, she began, in a guarded tone
that sounded strangely harsh to ber
acute senses, to call
"Father!"
But the deep, dark, dripping forest
only answered back a muffled echo of
the guarded word, and all was still
again.
"Father!"
This time a rabbit bounded through
the thick undergrowth and stopped be
fore her, with its fore paws in the air,
while it eyed her curiously.
"How I wish I had a gun, and could
shoot! I'd have a breakfast for mother,"
thought the child.
"Madge ! Come to me, Madge !"
The voice was barely audible; but to
the child's quick ear it was plain
enough.
"Which way, father?"
"Here, Madge! Quick! for God's
sake !"
The child bounded over the logs and
briers, in the direction indicated by the
voice; and there, upon the sodden
ground, securely pinioned by a large
branch of a fallen tree, with bis leg
broken at the ankle, lay her father,
writhing In pain, and utterly unable to
help himself. By his side lay a brace of
grouse, and bis gun, which the rain had
rendered unfit for service, reclined be
side them.
"I thought you'd come," said the
father. "Did you bring an axe ?"
"Yes, father; but you can't bear the
jar of chopping."
"I must bear it."
Finding a broken tree-limb near by,
which she used as a lever, and a large
stone adjacent, which fortunately was
in position to serve as a fulcrum, the
child managed to so far "ease" the
weight of the branch that bad rested all
night upon her father's leg, that she
could chop enough to liberate him from
bis peril without much increasing his
agony.
"How shall I ever get to camp?"
groaned the suflerer.
"Bather say, 'how shall we set that
broken bone?' " answered Madge. "We
can easily make a camp here, and bring
you everything you need, but I don't
know where to fiud a doctor."
The unfortunate man was suffering
for water, which Madge brought in a
large maple leaf, and then, assuring
him that she would soon return, she
hastened back to camp with the sad
and yet welcome news of her discovery.
While the family were pondering, in
acute perplexity, the terrible problem
of setting the broken bone, an Indian
approached the camp, to whom they
imparted the story of the disaster, rely
ing upon his mercy for that aid which
they knew not how to do without.
This Indian was not one of those noble-looking,
handsome braves that ex
ist in books only. In truth, he was a
filthy specimen of a deteriorated race, a
stranger alike to good cheer and soap
and towel baths. His vernacular was
of that character designated in far
western parlance by the simple appella
tion of "jargon," though our men of
letters have seen fit to classify it in
later years by the expressive title of
"Chinook."
"My husband has been disabled by a
fallen tree," said Mrs. Morrison.
"Nika wake cumtux," responded the
Indian.
"His legis broken," explained Madge,
helping her expression by appropriate
sign language.
"Ugh! Nika cumtux. Nika heap
make 'em well. Nika good Injun."
Mrs. Morrison suddenly remembered
that she bad often heard that Indians
were skilled in a pe'culiar way in some
of the curative arts.
"Come with us, won't you?" she
said, eagerly. "I want you to cure my
husband."
"Mika potlalch dolla'."
The poor woman's dollars were few in
number; but the fee was promised, and
very soon the Indian, with the profes
sional air of one who understands his
calling, was bending over the prostrate
man, feeling remorselessly the position
of the shattered bone, and grunting
contemptuously at the patient's agoniz
ing outcries.
But the untutored son of the forest
evidently understood his business, and
in a few hours the crippled unfortunate
was borne, with his assistance, upon a
rude litter, to his chosen camping
ground, where the delirium of fever
mercifully deprived him for a time of
all knowledge of the hardships that lay
in store for his family during the com
ing winter.
To be continued.
Colonel Forney, writing home of the
frequent wills and bequests printed in
the daily papers, and the good influence
of their example, mentions the will of
the Bev. Henry Charles Morgan, made
two years ago. His personal estate was
about $1,000,000. He left $5,000 each to
nineteen hospitals and benevolent in
stitutions, and $2,500 each to five other
institutions. Another benefactor was
Thomas Bliss Pugh, who died a month
ago, leaving $15,000 to the Royal Sea
bathing Infirmary, and $1,500 each to
three other charities. Another was Mr.
John S. M. Churchill, who left some
$200,000 to various hospitals and
churches. We are constantly doing the
same thing in the United Stales, and on
a scale quite as geuerous.
Mrs. Belle Lynch, of the Ukiah (Cal.)
Dispatch, announces the opening of the
seventh volume of her paper. She has
conducted it successfully since the
death of her husband nearly two years
ago. She says: "The care of three lit
tle helpless children and the labor of
managing a newspaper is no light re
sponsibility; but the cheering encour
agement given us by friends and patrons
of our journal has enabled us to pass
safely through the trying ordeal."
Woman Suffrage.
The claim of womantd the ballot 13
based, on the ground of a natural and in-,
alienable right. We are fully aware, in
making this statement, how difficult it
is to argue an abstract principle; but no
reform can be established, until at least
the abstract principle which covers it is
seen and admitted. The discussion of
this question, from woman's side, has of
late been ullowed to run into several Il
logical side-issues; and the force of the
movement seems to have declined in
conseqnence. The argumentfor Woman
Suffrage would not be weakened one
iota if it could be shown that every
woman to be enfranchised belonged to
the class defined by the elegant term of
"Bridget;" it would not be one whit
stronger if it appeared that universal
suffrage would give the ballot to no
woman but a Julia Ward Howe. For
the establishment of a natural right has
nothing to do with the character and
attainments of the person who is to be
benefited by it.
When our fathers struck for national
independence, they were moved by a
prophetic impulse to base their claim to
it on a principle so comprehensive that
it held the germ of all personal liberty
and social progress. "Ail men are cre
ated equal." This was the most revo
lutionary statement ever thrown into
society, and the invisible force of that
principle is the source of all the agita
tion that stirs our politics or social af
fairs to this day. As a people, we first
accepted that principle in its abstract
form, without adopting it in all of its
applications. It made chattel slavery
impossible; but because we denied its
self-evident application, avenging na
ture exposed to us the horrors of a san
guinary conflict, the wounds of which
it will take long years to heal. Early In
the century came the claim that it be
applied to suffrage: if all men are equal,
all men have ail equal voice in deter
mining the character, and shaping the
administration of the political institu
tions of society. The claim was resisted,
of course; but Jefferson added to it the
force of his immortal epigram "It is
said that man cannot be trusted to gov
ern himself; can he then be trusted to
govern another?" and the battle was
won, at least for white male humanity.
Womau's right to vote has exactly the
same basis. Men have no more right
to vote than women.
All this is very trite. But it is not so
trite that itdoes not need to be repeated.
It was only last summer, by newspaper
report, that sentiments averse to uni
versal suffrage were uttered in the most
scholarly assemblage in the land, by a
venerable ex-President, and received
with applause. When such gross ignor
ance is shown in such quarters, is it
not time to recur to the sources of
knowledge ? If not, we may soon be
come swamped in a common illiteracy.
It is only a few years since President
Fairchild, of Oberlin, arguing against
Woman Suffrage, found it necessary to
assert that our fathers, when they said
"all men are created equal," only meant
one nation's independence of another,
and did not mean personal rights at all.
But he was not the first man who re
produced the image of Mrs. Partington
with her broom at the sea-shore. We
had then hardlyceased laughing at him
who undertook to sweep back the same
ocean of truth with his little broom of
"glittering generalities." But General
Fairchild deserves credit-for the logical
perception which compelled him to see
that unless the principle of the declara
tion could be explained away, the right
of woman to the ballot must be admitted.
We may discuss as much as we please
the probable consequences and results
of securing the ballot to woman; but all
this Has no connection whatever with
the question,- Has woman a right to
vote? Whether it would add more of
intelligence and virtue, or more of ignor
ance and vice to the volume of the
electoral voice, is not logically to be con
sidered at all, unless it is settled what
her right is. This may possibly appear
more clear In comparison with another
right. The natural right to life is not as
well understood as it ought to be; but
it is better understood than any other.
We recoguize the right of a human be
ing to life; a right which we hold that
he forfeits only for a few crimes; but
short of these, his right is by no means
impaired by any density of ignorance,
or any enormity in vice. The right of a
human beiug to the ballot is co-equal
and co-extensive with his right to life;
aud yet, such Is the destitution of ordi
nary intelligence on this point, that
when Massachusetts, a few years since,
with exquisite despotism, imposed a
reading and writing qualification on her
voters, no one was startled by this clear
evasion of a natural right. If "intelli
gence" is to be the test, where can a
single qualified voter be found ? He
can not be found in North street, of
course. Can he be found in Harvard
College, that applauds the disparage
ment of a natural right ?
Whether or not women wish to vote,
it entirely irrelevant to this argument.
Some men do not wish to pay their
debts, but we do not therefore say that
a man has not a natural right to pay
his debts.
We think of but one reason, not log
ically a part of this argument, that has
a direct force in connection with it. A
man should forbear all opposition to the
enfranchisement of woman in the im
pulse of pure manliness alone. It is
one of our comforts that, owing to the
imperfections of knowledge, human be
ings do not always know how mean
they are; and we never need this com
fort more than when we see a man vo
ciferously denying to another the enjoy
ment of a natural, inalienable right,
which is his own pride and boast. New
Age.
Will Gabriel's trumnet be loud
enough to reach the ears of Guibord in
his new resurrectionist-proof coffin?
The body is to be placed in a hollow,
chiselled between two blocks of Mon
treal limestone, seven feet in length,
three feet in width, and two feet in
thickness. These will be cemented to
gether aud held with iron bolts, while
the stone will be covered with several
iuches of cement, mingled with scrap
iron, in order to render it impervious to
ordinary drills. At the last day Gui
bord will have no occasion to call upon
the rocks to fall upon him, for his coffin
will answer the purpose fully. Chicago
Times.
Mount Holyoke Seminarv has sun-
plied 115 wives for foreign missionaries,
the last two graduating classes furnish
ing eighteen. They usually go abroad
first as teachers, and are speedily mar
ried by the missionaries.
Alice Cary's Secret.
X TENDER STORY OF AN ONLY LOVE WHY THE
SWEET POETESSNEVER MARRIED "ALICETHE
PENSIVE AND SAD" MADE SO BY THAT "DREAM
OF DREAMS."
"To what uses shall we put
The wild weed flower that simply blows;
And Is there any mortal shut
Within the bosom of the rose I"
Clovernook graveyard Is a small en
closure near the road, shaded by tall lo
custs and wild cherry trees. It has an
air of abandonment aud neglect, but
Nature bas taken it kindly tp her breast.
The graves are overgrown with ivy and
long grass, aud blackberry vines twist
about the mossy headstones. The tall
est monument is in memory of John
Lewis, a native of Denmark. His farm
adjoined that of the Carys, and his
widow became the second wife of Rob
ert Cary, the first Mrs. Cary having
died when Alice was about fourteen
years old. She Mrs. Lewis sold a
greater part of ber farm to a gentleman
trom the East. This was Mr. Charles
Cheney, brother to the silk manufac
turer of that name. He had previously
been engaged in business in Providence,
Rhode Island, but an unfortunate spec
ulation bad swept away his property,
and it was by the aid of his brother that
he was enabled to buy the farm near
Clovernook. He purposed here to en
gage in the culture of the mulberry tree
and feed silkworms. He was accom
panied by his wife, who was an invalid,
and did not long survive her removal to
the West.
THE OUTLINE OF A LOVE STORY.
Alice Cary was a shy, awkward school
girl when she first met Mr. Cheney, and
had never before seen any person so re
fined, so gentlemanly and well-bred.
He was greatly superior to the people
among whom he took up his residence;
not that his mental endowments were
very great or better, perhaps, than those
of some of his neighbors, but his had
been brought out by education, and
found expression in graceful manners
and polished phrases, while theirs were
imbedded in the clownish fetteis from
which their position and circumstances
in life had in no way tended to free
them. Chiefly through his instrumen
tality, in the course of a few years the
neighborhood of Clovernook was
changed from a thinly-iuhabited and
ill-cultivated district to one abounding
with vineyards and orchards, and dotted
with public edifices and private resi
dences, surrounded by green lawns,
fringed with clipt hedges.
As years passed on, the shy, rustic
schoolgirl grew to womanhood, and the
proud and cultured neighbor of whom
she had stood in such awe, learning of
her thirst for knowledge, lent her books
from his library and eucouraged her ef
forts to self-improvement. Their ap
preciation of tbe same authors formed a
bond of kindred tastes between them,
and was the beginning of a more inti
mate acquaintance, an interchange of
thought and feeliug. For him it was
intellectual companionship, and tbe
charm of contact with a fresh, growing
mind, filled with beautiful thought and
earnest aspirations. For her it was ed
ucation of mind and heart, the revela
tion of a new life, the "opening of a
sealed fountain in her bosom." What
wonder if he wiio was her ideal realized,
the highest type of manhood she had
ever known, should win her heart? He
did win it, and in the highest sense of
the phrase, she never loved another.
In every case of heart-history there is
much that is sacred to those immedi
ately concerned, aud should never pass
beyond them into the cold and curious
world.
It all happened many years ago, and
the particulars of the story are known
to few. Suffice it to say that this was
the first and only love of Alice Cary's
life, and it ended there. Mr, Cheney
went East and married, and she read the
announcement in a newspaper. Later
she left Clovernook, around which clung
so many bitter-sweet memories, and
went to New York, where she made her
home during the remainder of her life,
and gathered around her a circle of ap
preciative friends, many of them gifted
and great. Though many prized her
worth and sought her hand, she never
forgot the love-dream of her early wom
anhood. Around it clustered all the
bright and tender associations of youth;
and as she receded from it and her hair
grew gray, it "gathered a pathos from
the years aud graves between."
Her life, though blessed with the com
panionship of noble minds and loving
hearts, had one sense weary and incom
plete, for she missed the crowning bless
ing of womanhood, the love that would
have been at once ber inspiration and
reward, and have satisfied the longings
of her nature as no personal achieve
ment or fame could have done.
But perhaps she was kept from the
fullness of happiness that she might
help others. We know
"They best can serve their gods,
Their errands run,
Who call no love their own
Under the sun."
She has ministered to many sad and
discouraged hearts, softeningaud bright
ening the surroundings of hard, homely
lives, and bringing to problems of doubt
and despair tbe lessons of faith and cheer
which she distilled from the "long, dull
anguish of patience." She won for her
self a place in the hearts of her readers,
and gained their personal affection as a
greater writer which less sympathy
could not have done. Her name is a
household word in many homes in this
Western land, aud the memory of her
brave and patient life "smells sweet and
blossoms iu the dust." Cincinnati Cor
respondence N. Y. Fost.
Substantial old farmers vie with
each other about the size aud elegant
appearance of their wood-piles. Mr.
Crabapple was thus praising the gentle
man who recently sawed his wood :
"When he-piles the wood, if one stick
projects beyond the others, he pounds it
in with the axe."
"Ah ! you should see my wood-sawyer,"
remarked a neighbor. "When he
gets the wood all piled, he takes off the
rough projectiug ends with a claw-hammer
saw."
"Does he? Well, he couldn't saw
wood for me," broke in a listener. "My
sawyer piles the wood carefully, then
goes over tbe ends with a jack-plane,
sand-papers them down, and puts on a
coat of varnish before he thinks of ask
ing for his pay."
But nobody bad anything more to
say after a fourth man told how bis
wood-sawyer silver-plated all the ends
of the wood, aud nailed a handle on
every stick.
All material life is but the stepping
stone to spiritual existence.
Be Cheerful.
There is many a girl called beautiful
whose haudsome face will not bear a
good look at it. The features may be
fine, and tbe complexion faultless, and
to a careless observer she may be very
pretty; but watch her awhile, wait un
til she is not talking, and until the
smile is faded and the light of laughter
gone from her sparkling eyes, then
you'll see her as she is.
A face in repose tells the true story.
It tells of a daughter whose selfishness
is proverbial in the home circle; of cross
words flung at her father and mother,
of bitter taunts given to her brothers, of
unkind treatment to her sisters, and of
a jealous, captious, unhappy disposition,
irascible, overbearing, and self-important.
That smooth pink and white face
will tell all this, if it is hidden there at
all.
When the features are in repose and
the mind in its usual state, not elated or
excited if the girl is unlovableat home
and not of a sunny disposition, the face
assumes its everyday, stolid, sullen,
ugly look, and a close observer cannot
help but read it aright.
That sweet mouth settles down into a
cold, dissatisfied expression, it droops at
the corners, the rosy cheeks hang sul
lenly, tbe eyes look as. though there
were hidden, back of them, really vic
ious, hateful thoughts.
We see such faces every day, and
while we are sorry, we can't help feeling
glad that "truth will out," that it is im
possible for a handsome girl to hide an
ugly disposition. It is good enough for
'em, too.
Let mothers teach their little daugh
ters that every snarl of ill-temper chis
els itself into the features, defaces them,
leaves its mark to remain through all
time, not even to be removed from the
face by death.
I often read one thing in pretty faces,
and the girls don't know that I see it,
but it is just as plain as this written
page before me. This is what I read :
"I think it a shame that I, Flora Ara
bellie, should have to work just like a
kitcheu-girl ! I do hate to drudge a',
milking and scrubbing and washing
dishes, and if there's one thing more
than another I despise, it is cooking,
bending over the hot stove and ruining
my complexion, and making my hands
red and wide; just a complete drudge
for those big boys and father and the
young 'uns! It's a burning shame ! I
was born for something better. I feel
it; but how can I rise when I am fet
tered thus?"
Pooh ! nonsense ! I guess when the
world needs you you'll find your place.
There has never yet been a man or a
woman, filling high places, who did not
come up, step by step, from a lowly estate.
How to Learn Self-Denial.
"Cousin Aggie, you are a mystery to
me. How you ever manage to live, I
do not know, with so much sickness al
ways in your home. Your husband
was an invalid for years; poor Harry
must needs break a leg, to enjoy your
good nursing; little Carrie bas had her
'ups aud downs' pretty steadily all her
little life, and now your husband's
niece is with you, wasting with con
sumption, and taking all your leisure,
just when it seemed as though you
might take a little rest."
"Hush, Jenny dear, and don't com
plain of poorHattie. Sbeis here by my
express invitation. Tbe poor child has no
other home, and what can she do with
out one? She is so comfortable and
happy here, it is reward enough for all
the care I give her."
"I don't complain, Aggie; I only
wonder you cannot love souud sleep and
ease and comfort, as I do, for instance,
or you could not bear it."
"Ah, Jenny dear, it is a good thing to
bear the yoke in one's youth. I never
could have done half so well by my dear
ones, if I had not served a long appren
ticeship iu self-denial in my early days.
It don't matter much bow tbe experi
ence comes, so the lesson of self-denial
is learned. It was just as hard for me as
for any one, I assure you. I rebelled
against it, and fretted under it for a
time, but at last it grew easy.
"Taking up the same burdens daily,
they at last become so much a habit,
that you feel lost without them. I can
net tell you howl missed my brother's
little boy when they moved away to the
West. I had taken almost the sole care
of him for a year, and no one thought I
could save bis life. He was always so
wakeful and restless, I had little sleep
with him, but it was a joy to see him
grow stronger and heartier all the time.
He has since become a very robust boy,
they write me. After Allie weut away
I could hardly sleep for a long time. I
missed the care so much. He kept me
awake more when absent than when
with me. It was my lot, Jenny, to have
much care and labor for others In my
childhood aud girlhood, and it has beeu
my preparation for the life-work God
had in store for me.
"Self-denial cannot come to us by
precept; we must have the sharp, hard
practice, or we shall not attain it. It is
a great blessing to have the lessons
taught early belore the opposite habits
are fixed, for it is hard to take them on
in later life."
Perils of the Atlantic There Is
no other great thoroughfare of commerce
or of human intercommunication on the
globe so beset with danger and difficul
ties as the voyage from New York to
Liverpool. The Gulf stream brings a
current of water fifty miles wide and a
thousand feet deep aud flowing at the
ordinary current of a river from the
tropical seas, and pours it out in a vast
expanding mass over and beyond the
Bank of Newfoundland, where It turns
off to tbe eastward, and finally looses
itself In the Northern seas; while to the
westward of it, a counter current com
ing down from Baffin's Bay a current
of nearly equal magnitude and force
pours into it a stream of icebergs, ice
floes, and ice-cold water. The effects of
this confluence are, beueath the water,
the accumulation of vast deposits of
sand and rocky debris, brought down by
the ice, and iu the atmosphere above an
almost perpetual succession of fogs and
mists aud driving rains, accompanied
by gales and squalls.
Charles Francis Adams, Jr., prophe
sies that all the railway systems of the
country will be consolidated into one
powerful monopoly, and that ultimately
they will become a department of the
Government, just as the post office now
is. He thinks that Scott, Vanderbllt,
and.Garrett are bringing this aboutN
THREE LOVES.
There were three maidens who loved a king;
They sat together beside the sea.
One cried, "I love him, and" I would die
If but for one day he might love me 1"
The second whispered, "And I would die
To gladden his life or make him great."
The third one spoke not, but gazed afar
With dreamy eyes that were sad as Fate.
The king, he loved the first for a day.
The second his life with fond love blest;
And yet the woman who never spoke
Was the one of the three who loved blm best.
THE FILLET.
BY R. H. STODDARD.
Love has a fillet on his eyes;
He sees not with the eyes of men;
Whom his fine Issues touch despise
The censures of indifferent men.
There is in love an inward sight,
That nor In wit nor wisdom lies;
He walks In ever-lasting light.
Despite the fillet on his eyes.
If I love you, and you love me,
TIs ror substantial reasons, sweet
For something other than we see,
That satisfies, though incomplete;
Or, if not satisfies, Is yet
Not mutable, where so much dies;
Who love, as we, do not regret,
Tbre Is a fillet on Love's eyes.
Harper's Magazine for November.
PARTIXG.
BY A. C. 8W1NBURNE.
For a day and a night love sang to us, played
with us.
Folded us round from the dark and the light.
And our hearts were filled full of the music ho
made with us,
Made with our hearts and our lips while he
stayed with us,
Stayed In mid passage his pinions from flight
For a day and a. night,
From his foes that kept watch with his wings
had he hidden us,
Covered us close Irom the eyes that would
smite;
From the feet that had tracked and the tongues
that had chidden us,
Sheltering In shade of the myrtles forbidden us,
Spirit and flesh growing one with delight
For a day and a night.
But his wings will not rest and his feet will not
stay for us;
Morning is here in.the joy of its might;
With his breath has he sweetened a night and
a day for us;
Now let him pass, and the myrtles make way
for us;
Love can but last in us here at his height
For a day and a night.
Some months ago a sensible business
man, while traveling at the South, .fell
in with an invalid gentleman. In the
course of the conversation, the latter re
marked to the former, "I suppose you
also must be something of an invalid,
as you are devoting, so much time to
traveling."
"Not at all," replied the business
man; "I am in the best of health; but I
am traveliug so that I may retain my
vigor."
"But your business, my friend does
it not suffer during your absence?"
"Better that my business should suf
fer a little than that by over-application
I should be totally incapacitated for at
tending to it," was the reply.
The exhausted invalid pondered a
while and then said, "I wish I could
have reached that conclusion twenty
years ago."
Herein is a lesson. A summer's va
cation does not always repair mind' or
body weakened by excessive exertion;
rest itself is not always rest, and recrea
tion sometimes seems only weariness to
the overtired mind. Thousands who
are simply slaves to business are ever
looking forward to a time when they
shall relax the strain and rest. That
time seldom comes until too late. They
subject themselves to a pressure which
common seuse should tell tbem is above
tbe limit of safety. Little sleep, hasty
meals, aud constant business auxiet'es
wear out the life. Hard work is not
injurious in itself ; but Americans seem
not to understand bow they can work
hard, aud yet obey the pbysiologicai
law for systematic relaxation. Long
vacations are all very well whenever
they can be taken, but a short time
given to pleasant, wholesome rest and
recreation every day, free from thoughts
and business, will keep the powers of
life fresher and brighter.
Woman Suffrage Association. At
the recent meeting of the Woman Suf
frage Association of this city, the pro
gramme, as laid down at the October,
meeting, was pleasantly carried out.
The committees appointed to report on
suffrage, religion, (having reference to
woman's work in churches and other re
ligious organizations), domestic matters,
etc., brought in various questions and
items of interest which furnished mat
ter for discussion among the members.
The report on suffrage included extracts
from the New Northwest, a paper
lately started in Oregon under the di
rection of two ladies. If grit and earn
estness can carry the enterprise through,
we may forecast its success with tolera
ble certainty. Two religious items
worthy of note were reported, viz.: that
during the past four years the women of
the Baptist Church have contributed
over $100,000 to aid th3 work of the Mis
sionary Union, and are now supporting
nineteen missionaries in tbe field; also,
that tbe new Deaconesses' House in
Boston, designed for the training of
women for public and private services of
charity, had just been finished and ded
icated. The point of interest was the
existence of deaconesses in a church
hitherto reserving all its offices for men.
The treatment of the subject of hospi
tality to guests, when the report on do
mestic matters was given, was specially
happy, as also the medley of fun and
seriousness with which Mrs. Foltz closed
the meeting. San Jose Mercury.
In Saxony children not only attend
school up to tbe age of fourteen, but af
terward, until they are seventeen, they
continue to receive regular instruction
in lessons varying from two to six
weekly, in accordance with the previ
ous proficiency of the pupil. Up to the
age of seventeen a child's education is
superintended by the state; at nineteen
the child, if a boy, enters the active
army; after serving for three years he is
relegated first to tbe reserve, next to the
Landwehr, then to the Landsturm; and
not until he arrives at the mature age
of forty-two can be call himself a free
man.
Strange changes take place in the
course of ages. Who would ever have
thought that tbe house once occupied
by the poet Milton should have degen
erated into a fish-monger's shop? But
so it is. His residence in Westminster
is still standing, very slightly altered
from its original condition. It is situ
ated on York street, not far from the
St. James Park station of the Under
ground District Railway. Over the
front of the house is now placed the.
sign, "The Noted Fried Fish Shop,"