ti. -N V 1 ?') 1;) 1 7 tJ tllPf DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON. . VOL. 11. OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 1877. NO. 26. I i r THE ENTERPRISE. A LOCAL NEWSPAPER FOR THE Farmer, Business Man, and Family Circle. ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY. It A. ' IC fH . 1 IZ 1 J3NT, FKOPK1ETOK AND I'L'BLISUKK. OFFICIAL PAPER FOft CLACKAMAS COUHTY. OFFICE In Entekpuisk Building, one d or south of Masonic Bulldiup, Main street. Terms of Mubucrlptlou: Single copy, one year, in advance $2 50 Single copy, six months, iu advance.... 1 50 Terms of Advertising;: Transient advertisements, iceluding all legal notices, per square of twelve Hue, oue week $ 2 50 For each subsequent insertion 1 00 One column, one year 120 00 Half " " GO 00 Quarter tt 44 40 00 Business Card, one square, one year.. . 12 00 SOCIETY NOTICES. O KEG ON LODGE, Xo. tf, I. I. O. F.. meets every Thursday even- ins, at o'clock. In the Odd Fcl-s lows' Hall, Main street. Members ;fij of the Order arc invited to attend. By order of N. G It B I IE CCA DEGREE LODGE, No. 2, I. O. O. F., meets on the ,, Second and Fourth Tuesday AizJ,!4 evenings of each month, at 1ri ir o'clock, in the Odd Fellows' Hull."',H,''ay Members of the Degree are invited to attend MULTNOMAH LODGE, No. 1, A. F. & A. M., holds its reirular coin , ,..,!....: 4 1... V.-mt ....A Tl.-...,l fj.iturdays in each month, at 7 o'clock V Iruin the JOtn ol September to the 20th of March: and 14 o'clock from the 20th of March to the 20th of September. Brethren in good standing are invited to at tend. . By order of W. M FALLS U N CAM 131 E N T. No. 4 I. O. O. F., meets at Odd Fellows' Hall on the First and Third Tuesday of each month. Patriarchs in "rood stand ing are invited to attend. BUSINESS CARDS. J. W. NORRIS, .Physician and Surgeon OFFICE AND KESIDENOK : On Fourth Street, at foot of Cliff Stairway tf CHAS. KNIGHT, CAMIY, ... OUKUOX, cPhysician and Druggist. IfFrescriptions carefully filled at short notice. ja7-tf PAUL BOYCE, M. D., 1'JiyMician and Surgeon, Oregon Citt, Okeqox. . Chronic Diseases and Diseases of Women and Children a specialty. Office hours day and night; always ready when duty calls. Aug. 25, '70-tf DR. JOHN WELCH, DENTIST OFFICE IX ORKUOX CITY, OKEdiOX. Highest cash price paid for County orders. JOHNSON & McCOWN, Attorneys aiil Counselors at Law, OBKUOX CITV, OKEUOX. Willpractice in all the Courts of the State, Special attention given to cases in the U. S Land Office at Oregon City. 5aprlS72-tf L. T. BARIN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, CFlCKtiOX CITY Will practice in all State. the Courts of the Nov. 1, 1875-tf W. H. HIGHFIELD, XZsta.lollsl3.ec3. since One door North of Tope's Hall, MAI NT., OHKUOX, CITV OKKGO'. An assortment of watches. Jewelry, , and Seth Thomas' Weight Clocks, all of which are warranted to bo as repre sented. tWyltepalring done on short notice; and thankful for past patronage. i iti itl for County Ordfn. JOHN M. BACON , DEALER IX JSffL Books, Stationery, sSfir PICTURE FRAMES, M0ULDI.V03 AND MISCELLANEOUS GOODS. CKEGOX ClTV, OKtGOX. At the Tost Office, Main Street, west L novl-'75-tf IMPERIAL MILLS. La Rot que, Savier & Co., OREGON CITY. Keep constantly on hand for sale Flour Middliugs, Bran and Chicken Feed. Parties purchasing feed must furnish the sack J. H. SHEPARD, Boot and Shoe Store one door north of Ackerman Bros. t-tfBoots and Shoes made and repaired as cheap as the cheapest. Nov. 1, l!S75-tf MILLER, CHURCH & CO. AY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR At all times, at the OREGOX CITY MILLS, And have on hand sell, at market rates, must furnish sacks. FEED and FLOUR to Parties desiring Feed novli-tf A. G. WALLING'S Pioneer Book Bindery, PittocVs Building, cor. of Stark and Front sta., POHTLAID, OKKUOI. BLANK BOOKS RULED AND BOUND to any desired pattern. Music books, Magazines, Newspapers, etc., bound in every variety of style known to the trade. Orders from the country promptly attended to. novl-75-tf OREGON CITY BREWERY. HENRY HUMBEL, T-T-LNO purchased the above tr3,,r,!Wery. wishes to inform the Huoiic mat he jg now preparei to manufac lur No x quality of v v 8t!00A V can b obtained anywhere in the l- UrUr solicited and promptly filled. y Time Enough. Two little squirrels, out in the sun, One gathered nuts, the other had none; "Time enough yet," his constant refrain, "Summer is still only just on the wane.'? Listen, my child, while I tell you his fate; ' He roused him at last but he roused him too late; Down fell the suow from a pitiless cloud, And gave little squirrel a spotless white shroud. Two little boys in a school-room were placed; One always perfect, the other disgraced; "Time enough yet Tor my learning," he said, "I will climb, by and by, from the foot to the head." Listen, my darling; their locks have turned gray; One as a governor sitting to-day; The other, a pauper, looks out at the door Of the alms-house, and idles his days as of yore. Two kinds of people we meet every day One is at work, the other at play. Living uncared for, dying unknown The business hive hath ever a drone. Tell rac, my child,if the squirrels have taught The lesson I longed to impart in your thought; Answer me this and my story is done. Which of the two would you be, little one ? Stephen Girard. Nearly every person who went to the Centennial talks about Stephen Girard They knew somewhat of him before, but because they only read of him they did not feel much interest. He was a French man, and was bora in the year 1730, in Bordeaux. His parents were very no atid not able to send him to school much, and his educatiou was very limited. He could only read and write. lie never ac quired the English language readily, al ways blundered in las commonest speech, and if he became excited he resorted to his mother tongue entirely. When he was ten years old he shipped as a cabin boy on a vessel bound to the Ea9t Indies. Afterwards he sailed from New York in the same humble capacity. He was a trusty lad, and so faithful to the interests of his employer that a few years later the master of the vessel gave Lira the command of a small craft, and the young man Stephen made several trips to New Orleans and other ports. He was so successful in all his under takings and so frugal with liis earnings, that in a little time he was enabled to become one of the owners of the vessel that had been entrusted to his manage ment. When he was nineteen years of age he settled in Philadelphia, and before he was twenty he married a servant girl, who was as pretty as a doll. Her name was Polly Lum, only seventeen years old, the daughter of a poor man who repaired vessels, a caulker by trade. "We feuppose Stephen, while waiting to have his craft tinkered up, cast his eyes upon the pretty girl the tinker's daughter lost bis lieart, and married her. But pretty Polly bad better have gone on cooking dinners, tending babies, doing chamber work, etc., for the marriage proved a very unhappy one. The young husband's temper was unmanageable he was hard and stern and cold, and exas perating, iu his broken French-and-En-glish, and the final result was a divorce from his wife, who afterwards became insane, and for the last tweuty-tive years of her life was an inmate of a lunatic asy lum. She died in 1815. They had no children except one, and that died in early infancy. Girard had not long entered the West India trade until he was recognized as a rich man. People who have seen him, concur in the statement that he was the homeliest man they ever looked upon. lie was short and thick, and as unshapely as a butter tub. The swaying, swinging gait of the old-time sailor was his as long as he lived. He had one wall-eye, which in itself was enough to spoil a handsome face; was deaf in one er, always dressed very mean and shabby wa3 cold and stern and vulgar, and his whole exterior, coupled, with his miserable broken lan guage, rendered the man a forbidding object. There was nothing favorable in his appearance whatever. He talked but little; he did not like t talk on any sub ject but business, and then as little as possible. His habits were precise, and regular .as clock woik. Aside from the business of money getting1 he cared for nothing but his fig trees and shrubbery and grape vines, lie was a cat none in n;s religious belief. At the time of his death, in 1831, his est:te was valued at t-velve millions ot dollar?, and by his will was all to be de voted to educating destitute children, and to the relief of the poor and distressed. As is too often the case in important matters of this kind, prolonged litigation was one of the deplorable result. In his will, Mr. Girard gave directions for constructing Girard College; the size, form, and the kind of materials to be used. The building was commenced in the summer of 1833, but not opened un til ions. The form is that of a Corinthian tem ple, surrounded by a portico having thirty-four columns, eacli six feet in di ameter, and fifty-five feet high, resting oq a basis of eleven white marble steps. The building is ninety -seven fett high, one hundred and eleven fWt .,lo nrl one hundred and sixty-nine feet lon. The stairways and roof are all of wime maroie. The entrances nro en hJ north and south frouts-ear.h hai-in.,lAr. ways thirty-two feet high, and sixteen feet wide On each of the east and west sides are thirty-four windows Visitors at the Exposition 'were shown the place where rest the remains of the founder of this college. Thev are buried beneath the center of the "lower vestibule, and are covered by a marble statue of Girard himself. The cost of erecting the building was not less than two millions of dollars. Provision was made in the will for sun- porting as many orphans as could be ac- commodated ; first, the orphans of the city of Philadelphia; secondly, those of Penn sylvania; thirdly, of New York, and fourthly, of New Orleans. Generous pro vision was made for these poor children between the ages of six aud ten years. and when between fourteen and eighteen years of age, they are to be bouad out to learn trades or follow useful occupations. The eccentricity of the man's character is shown in his will, where he says, '"No ecclesiastic missionary or minister of any sect whatever shall ever exercise or hold any station or duty whatever in said col lege, nor shall any such person evr be admitted within the premises appropri ated to the purposes of said college." Ihe trustees are very watchful lest the will be violated or broken, though years ago they decided to introduce the Bible for the use of the pupils, not deeming such a step at variance with the will of the founder. We write this crude biographical sketch at the suggestion of a little lady at our elbow, who very recently has become in terested in all that relates to this singular man. We ask her if the marble statue of Girard was tine looking. "Not by any means," the replies with a shudder. "His head was flat where veneration should have been, and his countenance was not at all prepossessing. He was life size,and I didn't see his white wall-eye, because the snowy marble favored the poor old man." "Don't forget," she add:, "that his lat ter generosity covered a multitude of sins, and that his wealth was what brought him up before a carping, critical, scrutiniz ing public, always ready to detect flaws." It is gratifying to know that the pres ent President of that noble and humane institution is the President of the Ameri can Bible Society, a LL. D., aud a man of unblemished Christian character. A very homely man once stepped up to Girard and handed him a huge old . jack knife, saying, "That knife wasgi'n tome, stranger, fur bein' the humliest man 'at anybody ever seed, but gor a mity ! take it! an' may peace go with ye!" The donor was glad to get away with out any broken bones. Girard swore and sputtered in villainous Eoglish the wrath that boiled over indignantly. , Ministers of the gospel are not even al lowed to visit this institution to step their unhallowed feet over the princely sills of polished marble, and for this rea son the utmost watchfulness is preserved. One time a party of students visited the college, and one of them, a jolly, fun loving fellow, wore a snow-white cravat, aud put on the very demurest of clerical faces. At the door the warden politely bowed, and looking keenly at the white cravat, said, "I am sorry, sir, but indeed you cannot be permitted to enter." "What the devil is the reason I can't sro in?" said the student, with a great show of mingled indignation and surprise. "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; ! was mis taken," said the suave warden, with a wave of the haud that signified an abun dant welcome. Ohio Farmer. What He Found. BY KAY. Yes, Rene, I will trust to your silence, and tell you the history of my life, from the time I left lale with you up to the present time. ".When 1 came home, I found my sister Alice very ill. v ith her was lady friend whom she had known at school. Cora Thornly was a sweet, pret ty girl of about seventeen years of age, at least nve years the junior of Alice Although she was so much younger, Alice had loved tier as sue nau never loved any one else but myself, and think you well know what devotion ex isted between my twin f-ister and mvself; one thing, I suppose, that made the love jrreater, was the fact that we were or phans. . "The day preceding her death, sent for me to come to her room, the bed, kneeling, was Cora Thornly she By " 'Harry,' said my sister, 'it has been my wish for the last five years that when you knew C ra you would love her, and wish to make her your wife. It is true yon have known her only live weeks, yet in that time you have seen how go and lovable she is. I have cherished the thought of seeing you married until it has become a part of my being. Cora is, like yourself, an orphan, and she loves you. Will you not be married to-day? I fear I have only a few hours to remain with you.' "lieue, what could 1 say? mere was my frister, dying1. On the other side of the couch vas C ra. I had never felt anything like love for her; I liked her as my sister's friend, and that was all had seen the blood rush to her faco when my sister was speaking; it had not left it yet. I pitied the poor girl, vet her face told me nothing. " 'Harry, what will be your answer?' came faintly from my sister. "I beut oVer and whispered, "'As you wish, my darling; yes, if it will make you happy.' "A bright, holy look sprang into her eyes, aud putting Cora's hand in mine she said, " 'God bless you both I You have made me very happy. I can now die content. "That afternoon I, Harry Ciifton, stood by my sister's bedside a married mnn, bound to a woman for whom 1 hat not a spark of love, and for whom 1 cou!d only feel pity. "The next day my sister died. I wil not dwell on the sad, sad days that fol lowed. Cora soon saw that I did not love her. I was truly sorry, for the poor child loved me, and for that reason I in- tended to make her happy, it possible .c" A-a alio vnn to me. " 'Ilarrv ' she said. '1 know that you do not love me, and it was only that jour sister might die happy that you married m T know vou would love me if you could. I have seen the struggle, and honor you for it; but I will not trouble you long.' "I could not understand "her. I did nof irnnw thnt child - ns she was, her heart was breaking with her love for me T did nnt know until the next morning n.hnt- cha mean t- then T found a note on mv dressing table; it ran thus: I howl love you" I cannot slay wTth you day after day and know that I am only a care to ou. l go only that you may be uappy. 1 am but a child; you will soon forget rue, aud think of me as dead."' But you will nevar know how dearly you were loved by . " 'UOKA.' "That was all. For the last ten years have looked everywhere for my child wife, and have not found her. Durinjr that time I have learned to love her. It almost breaks my heart when I think that she is lost to me, whether she is dead or not. If I could but find her, and tell her that the man she loved only too well at last loves her! I would give my whole life to see her happy. But I fear that it can never be." "Harry," said Rene, "I think you know, without my saying it, that I feel for you deeply, and will do anything that lies in my power to assist you in your search. By the way, I have a message to give vou which my sister gave me when I told her that you were in the city, and I was going to call on you. She has a end there who is a grand singer, and she told me to be sure to ask you to hear her. The girl is an orphan, and Laura wants to iutroduce her to a few of her friends." "I know of nothing to prevent," said Harry, "except my sadness. I fear you will not find me a very cheerful addition. Your promise of music wins me. Cora was a sweet singer. Evening came. Mrs. Grey's parlor contained a few select friends, and among them some old friends of Harry's, whom he had not seen since his marriage, over three years ago. In a short time Mrs. Grey came to him and said, "Come with m", Harry, and I will in troduce you to Miss Hastings." bhe led him to the end of the room. to a beautiful, sad-laced lady, who seemed strangely familiar to him. Har ry thought he had never seen such a beautiful wnnian in his life, but the sad eyes told a tale of suffering. Ihe introduction was over, and Harry found himself alone with the lady. "Miss Hastings," he said, "my. friend Iiene tells me that you are an excellent iger. May I have the pleasure of .hearing you" And he led her to the piano. "Have you any choice?" she asked. "None," he replied. "I shall be much pleased with your selection." She turned over the music and selected a piece he had once heard Uora sing. the strange lady saug so much like his ost wife that he involuntarily put his hand to his eyes, to hide the tell-tale drops that glistened there. "What is it, Mr. Clifton?" asked the fair singer. "Does my song affect you? If so, I will sing something else "No, no!" said Harry. "You will pardon me, Miss Hastings, for saying it, but I wish you would never sing that song for any one when I am by, for it has sad memories connected with it for me." "I am sorry," she said. "I ought no to have sung it, as it is connected with one ot the s:uldest periods of my own life." They talked on for some time, Harry soon finding out that his companion was a woman of rare culture. Rising, he said, "I have passed a pleasant evening, and hope soon to have the pleasure ot seeing you again." Time passed on. Harry wa3 deeply in love with .Miss Hastings. Every time he met her some new quality was de veloped. He kuew that he was doing wrong to allow this passion to grow on him. At last he spoke to Rene about it. "Well," said Rene, "I don't know as my advice will be right; but it 1 were you, I would go to Miss Hastings and tell her my history, that what she tells right, or I am a character." I am almost certain you- to do will be bad iudge of her That evening he called, was in the parlor, and he side her. They talked on Miss Hastings sat down ue different sub- jects; finally be said, "Miss Hastings, I have long wondered what your hrst name is. .Will you par don my curiosity and tell me?" "Jiy name, she said, "is a very com mon one Cora. Have you ever known any one by that name?" And she looked in his face with a sad, sorrowful look "Yes; I once had a very dear friend by that name; in fact, she was more than a friend she was my wife. I came here to-night intending to tell you my his tory." "You need not," she interrupted softly 'T know it, and have known it for a long time." "You know it?" cried Harry. "There are only three persons in the world who know it Rene Woodward, mv wife ant myself. Rene could never have told you He had not been looking at her while he spoke; she had risen and stood by his side. Laying her hand on his arm, she said, "llarrv. do vou not-know mef 1 am Cora Thornly." His arms were around her the golden head dropped on his breast. At this moment the door opened, and Rone came rushing in. "Laura says oh. excuse me 1" And he turned to go out. "btay!7 cried Harry. "Wish me joy R?ne. I have found Coia. my child A Goon storv is told of a well-known Broad street broker, r who on his way home from the club the other evening. managed to occupy considerable more than two-thirds of the Madison avenue sidewalk. In this predicament he was met by two seedy individuals, who firs relieved him of his watcb, and then tumbled him over into the snow. As he lav there shouting for help, two other in dividuals came along. -and inquired "What's the matter!" "Why." said the broker, "here I've hie been robbed of my hie watch." "Didn't they take your money?" asked . the strangers "Don't know," said the broker, feeling ia his breast pocket for" bis wallet. "No here 'tis bic money's all right." "Well we'll take that, then," said the strangers, as they seized the wallet and disappeared around the first corner. Commercial Ad vertiter. 1 COURTESY OF BANCROFT LIBRARY . I Russia aud the Dardanelles. Let us now consider the fearful pre ponderance which Russia would gain by the possession of these straits, including t course that half of European 'lurkcy bordering upon them. "We have seen that the shores of the Black Sea furnish every facility for the construction of a navy or any required strengtn, ana its waters afford ample space for its training. With these approaches in her grasp, Rus sia might in ten years construct and dis cipline her fleet there, perfectly safe from molestation by the navies of Europe. Fleets built and equipped at Sebastopol, Kherson, and Nicolaief, could sweep through the Dardanelles, closed to all ex cept themselves, enter the Archipelago and the Mediterranean, and dominate over their shores and over the commerce of every nation which has to use these waters as a highway. In case of it hap pening at aoy time to find itself over matched, the Russian fleet could repass the gates of the Dardanelles, and be as safe from pursuit as an army would be if sheltered behind the rocks of Gibraltar. Great Britain would be first and most immediately menaced ; by this for a 6trong military and naval power estab- ished on the Bosphorous would hold in command the shortest way of communi cation with her possessions in India. The Czar would hold in control the route by way of the Suez canal; or at best Great Britain could keep it open only by main taining a vastly superior fleet on the Med iterranean; and it would' be difficult for her to maintain there a fleet which would not be practically overmatched by one which Russia could ca-ily keep up in the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmora. The days are past when a Hood or a Nelson might safely risk a battle if the odds against him were much les than two to one. A British Admiral must hencelorth make his count upon meeting skill and seamanship equal to his own, and what ever advantage he gains must be gained by sheer preponderance of force. It Great Britain is to retain her Indian empire, a collision there between her and Russia is a foregone conclusion. An em pire which, under a succession of sover eigns ot very different character, has steadily pressed its march of conquest through the deserts of Turkistan, will not be likely to look without longing eyes on the lertile valley ot the Indus; and here Russia will have a fearful advantage in position. The Suez route practically cltsed, as it would be in the event of war, Britain could only reach India by the long voyage round the Cape of Good Hope, while Russia would have broad highways for the march of her troops to the banks of the Indm, whence she could menace the whole peninsula of Hindos tan. Dr. A. II. Guernsey, in ihe Galaxy. The Lesson of a Life. In December, 1845, in the Department of the Vosges, Xavier Thiriat, a boy of ten, accompanied four young girls of about the same age to church. They had to cross a brook, over which was placed a single loose plank. The boy crossed safely; the 1. 1 .j a 1 !i ... mi urst gin who aitempceu 11 leu iu. lue boy jumped in, pulled her out, and then, walking in the water, guided each of the girls across. Some time was lost by this, and the party reached the church Tate. Xavier, ashamed of being late, did not go up to the stove, but kept behind. He reached homechilled, a dangerous disease followed, by which he was left a complete cripple for life; his only mode of moving about was on hands and knees, so com pletely were his legs paralyzed and dis torted. Coming of a very poor people, there was every prospect that Thiriat would be a heavy charge to his family, and a wretched burden to himself. In stead of this -he reached manhood bright, cheerful and intelligent. Reading all the few books he could lay hold of, he was soon the best educated man in his dis trict; and rapidly acquired extensive in fluence, which was always used for good. He induced the young people to read aud to study. Some contributions to the lo cal newspaper, the Echo de Voitges, at tracted attention and made him known, the result of which was that further in tellectual "opportunities were extended to him. He made himself a good botanist, meteorologist and geologist, instructed others in these brauches, and procured the foundation ot several local libraries. He could not, however, be satisfied without achieving his complete independence and earning his support. He obtained the position ot manager ot the teiegrapu at a neighboring town, was made secretary to the mayor, became a favorite correspond ent of several agricultural papers, and re ceived the highest reward ot the rench "Fraukliu Society" its gold medal. All this was accomplished by native force of character and strong religious feeling, under circumstances not merely adverse, but at first sight absolutely hope less." A horrible deformity, intense suf fering, absence ;of instruction, crushing poverty all these disabilities were.over come unaided, and this ignorant and crippled lad made himself the light, in tellcctual and moral, of his whole dis trict. Philadelphia Ledger. Tiie latest triumph ot 1 ankee ingenu ity is sour-milk jewelry, made by King man & Hodges of Mansfield. The milk comes in the shape of curd from the but ter aud cheese-makiog counties in New York, and looks, upon its arrival, a great deal like popped corn, but before it leaves the shop it undergoes a wonderful change, and receives the name of American coral. The secret in making it up is carefully guarded, but it is certain that it has to be heated very hot, during which coloring matter is introduced, followed by a very heavy pressure. Some of it is colored black and called jet, while some appears as celluloid. It. makes very handsome jewelry, and is made into all kinds and styles known to the trade. Notoriety 13 one thing, and true glory is quite another thing. Many per sons have become notorious.around whose lives no true glory or dignity has appeared ; and nirtny men and women have been honorable, in the highest sense, who have lived unknown to fame and unheard of beyond a narrow boundary. Webster's Personal Appearance. Mr. Webster was a model' of manly excellence, of the highly civilized type; he looked the gentleman perfectly. His person represented the highest stylo of artificial breeding. Though the son of a plain "farmer, he was, physically, the im personation of the form produced by a de3cent from a long line of conquering, intellectual, out-of-door exercising race. His body was strong and muscular, his chest full,.,hig head large and firmly 6et upon his shoulders. His back was deeply indented, and his most careless pose sug gested pride of carriage, which idea was confirmed by the natural elevation of his face. ' His manners, nevertheless, were singularly unpretentiou.f ' ainio.U child like. He never strode into the Senate, but sauntered in, as if personally unno ticed, and himself without a care or pur pose. This manner, really so fascinating, concealed all outward show of his passing thoughts, or immediate intentions. He was so conscious of his power, and had all of his mental resources so well in hand, that he never was agitated or embarrassed. His repartee in the private parlor, or fes tive Iwj.ird, was as quick and bright as were his legal arguments in the Supreme Court unanswerable, or his elegance in the Senate unsurpassed. Before deliver ing a speech he often appeared absent- minded, and acted as if unconscious of being surrounded by an audience. Rising to his feet, he seemed to gradually recov er perfect self-possession, by assuming a quiet manner, which was aided by thrust ing his right hand within the folds of his vest, while his left hung gracefully by his side. A few sentences uttered, aud the clear tones of his voice reaching his own ear, they seemed to inspire him by their musical sound. A moment more and the man was changed. His dark complexion grew warm with inward fire; his eyes would start from their cavernous depths and flash with inspiration; the huge brain, in its mighty work, forcing perspiration in rivulets down the palpi tating temples. There never was a more impressive personal appearance in the forum, or a more magnificent form of human effort, engaged in giving utter ance to the workings of the mind. Yet, ia these tremendous demonstrations of intellect, Mr. Webster was never dra matic in action. Even in the utterance of his most eloquent sentences, his body was in comparative quietude his won derful eyes alone burned and coruscated; in all other respects repose seemed the normal condition of his magnetic frame. Col. T. B. Tliorpein Baldwin" g Monthly. Maxims of Rochefoucauld. Our passions are the only orators who are certain to persuade us. We have all of 119 sufficient strength of mind to endure the misfortunes of other people. Philosophy triumphs easily over past evils and those to come, but present evils triumph over philosophy. It requires greater virtue to sustain good fortune than bad. The evil which we do does not draw upon us so many persecutions and so much hatred as our good qualities. It we had no faults ourselves, we should not have so much pleasure in discovering the faults of o;hers. - ine love 01 mstice in most meu is nothing but fear of suffering from in justice. Many complain ot their memory, but none complain ot their judgment. Old men delight in uttering good pre cepts to console themselves tor being no longer in a condition to set bad examples The surest way of being deceived is to think yourself cleverer and more cunning than any body else. People are never made so ridiculous by the qualities they possess as by those which they affect to have. Society could not long subsist it men were not the dupes of one another. Our repentance is not so much a re gret for the evil we have done as a fear of what may be the consequences. When our vices quit u-, we natter our selves that we quit our vices. That which often prevents us from abandoning ourselves to a single vice, is the tact that we nave several. He who lives without folly ia not so wise as he thinks. It is much easier to limit one's grati tude than one's hopes and desires. In the adversity ot our best friends we always find somethiug that does not dis please us. It is not so dangerous to do evil to most men as to do them too much good. There is no man clever enoilgh to know all the evil which he does. Among the mass of mankind gratitude is nothing but a stroug and secret desire lor still greater benefits. Living Chessmen. Most persons who haveany acquaintance with the literature of chess have heard of the games eaid to have been played in the Middle Ages with uving cnessmen. L,ord Liytton recently received this amusement in India. During his visit to Mooltao. his lordshio. after receiving and replying to an address irom tne municipality ot the city, en gaged, we are told, "in a novel game of chess with Col. Millett. The chess-board, it such a term may be allowed to a car pet of red and white calico with checkers a yaru square, having been spread in front "of the hall, chessmen, .men and boys, dressed in opposing red and white uniforms appropriate to the various pieces, were marched in and took their places inen oy wora 01 command each piece movea to tne square indicated, and a lively game ensued, ending in an easy victory for the Viceroy." An emperor of Mexico who once indulged in a similar amusement is said to have added a ter rible realism to the game by causing all tne pieces taken duriog the process to be oeneaded. Poetry is the flour of literature; prose ia the corn, potatoes and meat; satire is the aquafortis; wit is the spice and pepper; love letters are the honey and sugar; and letters containing remittances are the apple dumplings. Never speak lightly of religion. Fete Days in Paris. The Radicals are very anxious to have a national fete day, but there will be some difficulty in selecting one. It is related that when Lady Morgan visited Paris in 1829 she said to Lafayette, "Ah, Jiarquis, how can the French find their way among all the dates -with which they spangle their conversation?" Which of these dates shall now be chosen to re place the loth of August, or St. Napo leon? St. Patrick's Day, in honor of Patrice de MacMahon, is perhaps out of the question just now. Since the taking of the Bastile on the 14th of July, 1789, no fewer than twenty seven famous dates have been added to the republican calendar. Among the most celebrated of thea may5 bemv tioned the 10th of August, when the Tuileries was taken by Btorm; the 21st of January, when Louis XVI. was guil lotined; the 31st of May, which wit nessed the fall of the Girondists; the 21st of September, or 1st Vendemiaire, proc lamation of the Republic; the 9th Thermidor, which saw the end of the Reign of Terror and the fall of Robes pierre; the 13th Vendemiaire, which be held the appearance of Bonaparte on the scene of action, when he treated the fac tions to a whiff of grapeshot on the steps of St. Roch; the 18th Brumaire, when he assumed the chief power after first driv ing out the Chambers. After the Empire and the Restoration, with their dates, came the three days of July which saw the downfall of Charles X., and next the 24th of February which witnessed the expulsion of his successor Louis Philippe, and the birth of another Republic. The Republic of 1848 has its dates, such as the 15th of May, when the Constituent Assembly was invaded by the clubs; the 5th of March, when universal suffrage was born ; the three days of June, when Cavaignac smote the Socialists hip and thigh; the 10th of December, when Louis Napoleoa was elected President; the 13th of June, when there was a revolt and Ledru Rollin es caped by a skylight. Then came the terrible 2d of Decem ber, which slew the Republic the Re public which only came to life again on the 4th of September, 1870, and was driven from Paris by the Commune on the 18th of March, 1871. There are sev eral other dates in the third Republic not to be forgotten. Under Louis Phil ippe the Cabinets formed by M. Thiers were usually spoken of as those of the 11th of October and the 1st of March; now we constantly hear of the 24th of May, the day upon which he was re placed by Marshal MacMahon; the 28th of January means the capitulation of Paris, the 8th of February the truce of Bordeaux, the 20th of November the Septennate, aud the Constitution of Feb ruary the present Constitution. The first Republic established all kinds of fetes those of "the abolition of orders," that of "the oath to the nation," of "regeneration," of "animals the friends of man," &c. These were recommended by the Bishop of Autun, afterwards bet ter known as M. de Talleyrand. When Napoleon was in Egypt he issued the fol lowing order of the day from his headquarters at Cairo, dated 1st Vende miaire, year VII. : "Soldiers, we celebrate the first day of the seventh year of the Republic," &c. And afterwards, when First Consul, lie wrote: "Two great epochs exist in the Revolution, the 14th of July and the 1st Vendemiaire, foun dations of the Republic completed by the 10th of August. These days are imper ishable; they have been hailed by French men with unanimous transports; the Consuls propose that these dates alone shall be celebrated in the name of the Republic." Pall Mall Gazette's Paris Correspondence. Mr. Henry Meiggs, the enormously wealthy railway contractor of South America, is a native of this State, and about 65 years old. He first sought his fortune in California, and opened up the great lumber interests of that Western coast, lie engaged in many schemes of public benefit, but being obliged to bor row money the usurious rates of interest then prevailing in California took him. beyond his depth, and he went to South America leaving behind him heavy liabil ities. There he made large sums as a railway contractor and then settled the California claims. He owns two resi dences one in the City of Lima and the other in the suburbs where he dispenses hospitality to every American or foreigner, and especially to Californians, on every possible occasion. 2io American was ever hard-pressed lor money without Mr. Meiggs coming to his rescue and supplying him with means to go to any part ot the world he might desire. His "Quinta," or private dwelling-house, is situated in the midst of sixty acres of pleasure grounds, filled with the rarest fruits and flowers. Half of the entire product of his orchard he gives to the Sisters of Charity ia the city, who come and gather it themselves every year. In religion Mr. Meiggs is a Protestant, but he has allowed his children perfect free dom in the choice of creeds. Two of them are Roman Catholics, and a third Episcopalian. AT. T. Tribune. Fish are uncommonly plentiful in Housatonic river this year. Since the State has become interested in propaat- ing nsn ine river is lined with immense schools of small trout, salmon, roach, bay percn, sucKera, pickerel and salver eels. The loss of shad ha3 been lamented on the part of the owners of fisheries, but the consumers of shad do not feel the loss because there has not been a time since the Derby dam was built when shad were dearer than they were before that time, and as a rule they have been retailed at a less price. TJnclk farm left. Sam has a pretty good sized According to the report of the Secretary of the Interior, 6,524,326 acres were disposed of during the last fiscal year, for which the cash receipts were $1,745,215.85. During the year 21,806,517 acres were surveyed, leaving yet to be Burveyed a trifle oyer 1.132 . 665,214 acres. ' 3 -It (l - r: & ) ill r : t - f i 0 7- hi I.'