DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, AND THE BEST INTERESTS OF OREGON.
YOL. 11
OREGON CITY, OREGON, THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1877.
NO. 35.
THE ENTERPRISE.
A LOCAL NEWSPAPER
FOB TUX
rururr, lialna Mu nnd I'xiullr Circle
ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY
PBOPItlETOB AND PUBLISHER.
Official Paper for Clackamas County.
Office: In Cuterprive Uulldiuv,
One door South of Masonic Building, Main Street.
Trrum of Suburrlpllou i
Single Copy, one year, iu advance l r0
Single Copy, nix mouths, iu advance 1 50
Tvriut oT Advertlalug :
Transient advertisements, inrluding all Ual
notices, per square of twelve lines, uue
week $ '2 00
For each subsequent insertion 100
Doe Column, one year 120 1)0
Half Column, one year 60 (H)
Quarter Column, one year 40 (X)
Buaineis Card, one square, cue year 12 00
o SOCIETY NOTICES.
OREGON LODGE, No. UTi-'obTF.
Meets every Thursday Evening, atytv-- - f
7H o'clock, in Old Fellows' Hall.I 7TtNr I
Main Street. Members of the Ordt-r
are Invited to attend.
By order of
N. O.
REBECCA DEGREE LODGE, No
2,
I. O. O. F.. meets on the Second and
fourth Tuo-dny Eveninua of ech month,
at 1V o'clock, iu the Odd Fellows" Hall.
Members of the Degree are invited to
attend.
FALLS ENUAMfMENl", No. 4,
I. O. O. F., meet at Odd Fellows' Hall on
the First and Third Tuesday of each month.
Patriarchs in good standing are Invited to
attend.
MULTNOMAH LODGE, No7 1,
A. F. Il A. M .. holds it regular comrm.nt- j
rations on the Vin.t ami Thirl Kxtiirrlavc ft
is ra-n mourn, at i o ciock irom tne -anti .. ven
ui orpieiuuer w iuc & u oi jiarcn ; anil
7 o'clock from the 30th of Mar.-h to the f t
20ih of September. Br thren in fcood standin ' tre
Invited to attend. By order of W. M.
BUSINESS CAKDS
J. W. NORRIS,
Pliy.siciaii and Siarj;co
OmC! AND BIKIDEXCE :
On Fourth S'ret, at foot of Cliff Stairway.
tf
CHARLES KNIGHT,
CANBY. OEEOO.V,
cl'Iiysiciaii and Ii.ijjjisl.
Prescriptions carefully filled at short notice.
Ja7-tf
PAUL BOYCE, M.O.,
lhj sloian and Surgeon,
OaEftOJI ClTT. ObEOOX.
Cvroni Diseas-si and Pleases of Women and
Children a specialty.
Office Hour day and night ; always readv wh n
duty calls. au25, '76-tf
o DR. JOHN WELCH,
fiaDENTIST.
OFFICE IJi OREGON CITY OREGON.
( Higatat cash price paid for County Oidera.
JOHNSON & McCOWN,
ATTORNEYS and COUNSELORS AT LAW
OREGON CI"Y. 01EG0N.
Will practloe in all th- Courts of th- State,
ttpe. tal attentl n fd en t . ..s in tbe I'nlted
States Land Odlce at Oregon City. Sapr72 tf
L. T. BAR1N,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
OREGON CITY, OUEGON.
Will practice in all th Courts of the State.
nuvl, '75-tf
W. H. HICHFIELD,
XI m tn.lllMlitl slnoe '4l,
One door N rth of Pope'a Hall,
MAIN tT.. itr:ji. city. uitt:u.
An aasoittnent of Watches, Jewlry. and
S'th Thomas' Weight ChK-ks. all or which
are warrant d to be as represented.
Repairing done on short notice; and tbauk.ui
for past patronage,
l aali 1'ni.l tor County Orders.
JOHN M. BACON,
DEALFB IN f!ll$
uuuuu) uiuiiuituii a i
PICTURE FRAMES. MOULDINGS AND MISf'FL-
LANEOLS GOODS.
t'K AMr.H yt IK r i:i It.
Oheoon Citt, Oreoox.
"At the Punt OiBce, Main Strett, west side.
novl, '"5-tf
J. R. GOLDSMITH,
tiKXEUAT, MnVWl'AI'I 1 1
Collector and Solicitor.
PORTLAND, OREGON.
C"Best of references given. ilt't-25-"77
HARDWARE, IRON AND STEEL,
Hubs, Spokes, Stilus.
OAK, ASH AND HICKORY PL&.NK.
MOIITIIRI'P
maj31,'76-tf
THOJIPSOX,
Poitlaud, Ortfron.
J. H. SHEPARD,
HOOT AXI) SHOi: STOKE,
One door North of Ackerman Bros.
7 Boots and Shoes made and repair.-d as cheap
as the cheapest. novl, '75-tf
MILLER, CHURCH & CO.
PAY THE HIGHEST PRICE FOR WHEAT
At all times. . t the
0 OREGON CITY MILLS,
And bare on band FEED and FLOUR to sell, at
market rates. Parties desiring Feed must furnish
racks. novl2-tf
A. C. WALLING'S
Fionecr Koolt Bindery
Plttock's Building, cor. of Stark and Front Sts.,
PORTUXD. OKEGOX.
TJLANK BOOKS BLLED AND BOUND TO ANT
J3 tics i rati pattiru. Music Bo ks. Manizine
31 wapaprr. etc.. b .und in every variety of tyl
known to the trade. Orders from the cuntiy
promptly att nded to. novl, '75-tf
OREGON CITY BREWERY.
ittjithl:t & maddeh,
Having purchased the above Br-wery,,
1.H. ... i.r .1 tn - ... .w. J L" :
luti'im mn puuuc fcliafc lu-jf rr
"ww, "rsparra tj manufacture No. 1,
allty
OF LAGER BEER.
rx4 m can ba obta'nsd anvwhere In the State.
w awuaiisa aaa promptly fill.d.
THE DESERTED HOUSE.
A So.:et Br W.
H.
There by the roadd 1e stands the queer old house.
besetted it nan been for m-aiy yeaia ;
And vren fUe enters first one has strange fears
Oi" wh.it may be tui-ide. But not a mnue
Raises Its tiny head, or bides, afraid ;
Aiid th- Mile sjund through the .ieep tillness heard,
I - the Rhrill chirping or a motber-b;r I,
ho right above the do- r her n- st has made.
While through hare, lonely rooms my wav I wend,
1 feel a kind of pity for the thing,
Le.t thus alone, like to some fallen king.
Deserted both by enemy and frieud.
But life is short; so gently close tne gate.
And leave the house to merry and to fate.
St. Nicholas for June.
THE XOTE OF IfAD.
Haus and Fiitz were two Deutst-hers who lived side
by side.
Remote from the world, its deceit and Its prldo ;
With their pretzels and beer, the Bpare moments
were spent.
And tlie fruit-i of their labor wero peace and con
tent. Hans purchased a horse of a neighbor ous da) ,
And lacking part of the gold as they saj
Made a call u, ou Frits to solicit a loan
To help him pay for bis beautiful rjiu.
Fiitz kin Uy consented the nionty to lend.
And gave tue required amount to hi frieud,
R-oiai king, his i.wu pimple lanuae to quote,
Berhaps It vas better ve make us a note."
The note wan drawn up lu their piimit've way,
" I, II ins. gets fr.iiu Freets teefty dollar-. tvi-uay"
Wiieu the question aroe, the ni te being made:
' Yioa von n il ls dot bap r until it vas baid ?"
"You geeps dot," says Fiiti, " und den you vill
know
You owe me dot money." Siys Hans : "Dot ishso;
D'1 makes me remember I hnf dot to buy,
Und 1 prings you der notn and der money some
day."
A month had expired when Haus, as agreed.
Paid back the amount, and from debt lie whs freed.
Says Fritz : " Now dat settles us." Haus replies :
' Yaw ;
Now who dakesdot paper according by law?"
" I geeps d t, now, aiud't it?" says Fritz : " den
you i-ee
I alwas remembers you pid dot to me."
Say Hans : ' D t ih so, it va now susht so plain,
D.-t I knows Viyt to do ven I porrows again."
STORY OF A FLY.
Mr. Poivry was a bald-headed, good
old raun. Ilad he been aught but good,
be would have beeu lost; but he was
bald, ami it was that which saved him,
as von will see from this very veracious
history.
Although au honest merchant, he was
very successful and amassed a fortune.
His most successful commercial opera
tion had been hi marriage. He had,
at the age of thirty-live, espoused a
charming widow who had brought him
one hundred thousand francs in hard
cash, and who loved him as tenderly as
she had done Iter two fir.st husbands.
As goodness, it is said, receives eventu
ally its recompense, o he was rewarded
by the early loss of his dear p.trtner.
Master of his lu-art and fortune, ha at
last placed both at the fe-et of a charm
ing girl of good family, who brought
him youth and beauty as her dowry,
treasures which, commercially, do not
rate very htKh, but which, nevertheless,
possess a value peculiarly their own.
Mr. Poivrv had then seen some fifty
Summers, s ihtly tinged with the light
frosts of a few Winters.
A learned member of the Academv of
Sciences tells uh thero are two seasons
of youth, one which commences at the
common are that n. at birth: the other
which recommences toward tiftv. That
is the true, the crood. the solid vouth.
that of distinguished men, anil particu
larly tue bald, lue eminent academi
cian invented this theory at the age of
fifty-three. It was time.
We are assured that this new economy
of the existence of man is so clearly ex
posed that all those who have read the
book have become converted. Bnt we
are assured also tuat those only tiave
read it who have passed their fiftieth
year. The young girls of eighteen ami
the young women of twenty resist this
specious argument, and hold the opin
ion vulgar. Perhaps thirty years hence
they will change, and admit the possi
bility of a second spring-tide. As for
mvself, I will wait soihh vears before I
commence the perusal of this consolinji
book.
Mr. Poivry agreed with the eminent
academician. He felt himself active,
refreshed, regenerated.
"I feel strong a?ain, and youthful as
a young sapling'" repeated he, as he
complacently passed his hand over his
smooth, shining and guiltless pate.
Hut his youns; wife was not yet of an
age to cornpreuend a svstem so pro- !
fuundly philosophical. Besides, she i
had before her eyes a living contrast to ;
to her husband. One of her coupius,
with whom she hail been reared from
childhood, had come, on leaving col-
ege, and established himself as an at-
tornev, in the same town with and in
the immediate neighborhood of Mr.
Poivry, and, quite naturally, he came
frequently to visit hi3 lovely cousin.
For the young wife of an old man, a
landsome cousin is a charming and
langerous attraction. Children togeth-
er, their earliest associations unKea
with each other, they had long con
tracted the habitude of that sweet in
tercourse which constitutes the founda
tion of love. They had played together,
dreamed together, together built their
castles in the air. Paul we give onlj
his Christian name was twenty-four.
with curlv. clossv black hair, an en
chanting mustache, and dark, languish
ing eyes. We beg the young man s par
don, but. despite his twentv-four years.
ho certainly looked younger and more
handsome than the husband.
Mr. Poivry, as became a solid mer
chant, gave 'all !:is time to business.
Paul, as an advocate, consecrated all
his hours to his cousin.
All thiee were happy. The merchant
seeing his business prosper; the lawver
pleadiug a cause which he hoped event
ually to gain, and Mrs. Poivrv to see
herself surrounded bvso much love and
friendship.
Everything progressed in the best
manner possible, when one day they
agreed to have a fete 'h impetrr. Cer
tainly, a more innocent pleasure than
"going a gypyinfr" cannot be conceiv
ed. I remember that in such innocent
pleasures my first p issiou had its birth.
Quite confident, Mr. Poivrv eaw
nothing iu a "day in the country' but a
few hours snatched from business, to
be spent in the society of his wife and
her very agreeable cousin, with the ac
companying influences of tho bright
spring uky and the verdure of the fresh
blooming earth.
The day arrived, and our little party
started off gayly. Reaching a charmiug
elevation, from which a most attractive
view of the country was to be had, they
picked out a cool spot, shielded from
the 'rays of the already hot sun, and
spreading out a tablecloth on the grass,
covered with various delectables, among
which were some choice wines, they
breakfasted.
Mr. Toivry found the breakfast ev
cellent. He ate and drank so heartily
that, soon overpowered, he fell off into
a quiet sleep.
But love slept not, nor indeed did
either of the cousins. Seated on the
grass, each of them held an open book,
but neither read a word.
Who but a man in his second youth
could read or s'eep at such a moment?
It was a warm day in early summer, in
vigorating and exciting, the wind sigh
ing amorously through the trees as
though iu sport with the foilage, the
birds chirping after one another in the
branches, and the daisies, adorned in
their dewy toilets, bedecking the hill
sides and the valley below.
"My cousin," said the young man,
"do you still remember the pleasant
picnic in the country before I went to
college? That was a day just like this.
You were quite young, then."
"And would you say," replied the
voung Mrs. Poivry, "that I am old
now ?"
"Heaven forfendf You are younger
than over, and more beautiful."
Mrs. Poivry made no reply, but drop
ping her book on her knees, she hid Ler
eyes for an instant with their transpa
rent lids, then, raising them, she silent
ly regarded the vague blue of the hori
zon. What was jessing jn her soul?
Her husband was good, affectionate,
ever ready to oblige and please her, but
her cousin had such a charmingly pale
and interesting countenarxe, his hair so
raven and his eyes so ardent.
Mr. Poivrv was rich. He had placed
his wife in an easy position, almost a
brilliant one, had assured her of a tran
quil future; but the sun was so warm at
this moment, the turf of such a velvet
and voluptuous softness, the whispering
zephyrs so charged with perfume, the
air so full of song! Poor Mr. Poivry!
everything conspired against him!
"My cousin." said Paul, "you re
member the evening wheu, for the first
time, I saw you in your charming ball-
costume. How becoming it was! You
looked beautiful, enchanting, on that
nil:t."
"Am I, then, become a negress to
day?" exelaime,d the young woman.
"Oh, how wilfully you misipprehend
me! Yon are more beautiful, more en
chanting than ever! I never beheld you
so attractive I"'
At this moment Mrs. Poivry threw
off her light shawl. It was so hot.
The sky was blue, the meadows were
frek and green; but Paul regarded
neither f ky uor meadow. A sweet lan
guor filled at the same moment both
these young hearts; the grass ou which
they were seated was fine and soft; the
wind, passing over their heads, played
among their curls with au amorous
trembling; the birds, billing ami coo
ing above in the new-born foliage; tho
butterflies and bees buzzing their musi
cal hum iu the air. aud Mr. Poivry
snored most peacefully.
"What a delightful'day!" said Paul;
"and how balmy is the air! It is de
lightful, in this warm breeze, to be seat
ed near you, dear Cousin Louisa."
Mrs. Poivry. her eyes bent to the
ground, listened but answered not. Her
hands, abandoned to themselves, uncon
sciously fell into tho- of Paul. Her
sunny curls, tremblingly agitated by
the capricious wind, fitfully caressed
the burning cheeks of the young man.
And the wind sighed, and the birds
warbled, and the insects buzzed, while
Mr. Poivry snored.
"Louisa," cried Paul, as he seized
her hand, which made a tenderly use
less effort to escape, "I would be hap
py, quite happy, at this moment, if
if"
"If what, cousin?" inquired Mrs.
Poivry, almost inaudibly.
"If you were not married."
She drew her hand suddenly away.
Some minutes passed in an embarras
sing silence, which was not, however,
entirely without its charm.
Mrs. Poivry threw a glance on her
sleeping husband, whose bare cranium
and full red cheeks seemed so out of
place in such a group. She turned her
eyes, and involuntarily, no doubt, they
fell on the pale, ardent visage of the
young man, and breathed, always invol
untarily, 1 suppose, an ala so discreet,
so furtive, that the wind bore it on its
wings without a knowledge of its im
port. Paul heard it not, but he under
stood. "Oh, may I not lovo you?" he cried,
as he leaned toward her.
He seized again the fugitive hand.
The two young countenances insensibly
approached, each other, the brilliant,
flashing eyes of the one encountered
the humid eyes of the other; both were
silent, but each understood the other.
And the birds still warbled above
their heads, the insects filled the air
with their buzzing, while the husband
snored still louder.
Of a certainty, Mrs. Poivry thought
not of anything wrong; she had a lively
and delicate sense of honor. Without
feeling for her husband that passionate
affection which we name love, she re
spected him in herself, and would have
given her life sooner than be wantingin
her duties; but the occasion, the inspi
ration of the scene, the pras3. and the
WU who. like the snake, always lies
nonwaled there, and the lawyer, win
pleaded his cause so eloquently, with
the birdsbilling and cooing, and the in
sect buzz, buzzing, and the husband
snoring. Ah, truly, there was enough
to lead her to forget!
n.i a Bfret trembling agitate!
her soul; already a delicious trouble
was obscuring her reason, and a cloudy
veil was fast rising belore ner iueuiu
ing eyes. The evil geni began to anti
cipate his prey. The devil and the law
yer were fast gainiug their cause, when
all at once
Oh! the frightful insects those flies!
Thev respect nothing, neither the white
curtains nor the fresh meals; no, not
even the sleep of innocence! Already,
for some minutes, one of them had turn
ed her attention toward our group, seek
ing a point of attack. For an instant
the vermillion lips of the young wife
had seemed to tempt her and there was
enough to tempt a saint, much less a fly.
Had Paul been in her place, he would
not have hesitated. Madame Fly did
no more, however, than to graze the
pouting lips as she passed on in search
of other game. She sailed again into
the air, and buzzing there some mo
ments, she espied something white and
globnlar, something highly polished,
shining peacefully in tho warm sun
light. In its very tranquility lay the
temptation to disturb it. Had there
beeu no apple in Eden, Eve would not
have leen tempted to eat it. 1 suppose
the rule may be quoted in this case of
the fly. However, the troublesome in
sect was tempted by the white shining
object I have mentioned, and accord
ingly settled npon it; it was the bald
pate of Mr. Poivry.
"Louisa," whispered Paul at this mo
ment, iu a low and passionate voice. "I
have long loved you almost without
knowing it myself."
Louisa ras about to re21y, when the
sleeper, troubled in his repose, shook
his head to deliver himself from the im
portunate caresses of the insect. Mrs.
Poivry turned her eyes in that direction,
saw the movement, and hastily drew her
hand from within that of Paul.
"Louisa," exclaimed the latter, in a
trembling voice, "I love you still; more,
more than ever."
Louisa felt her power for resistance
succumbing sure to his honeyed ac
cents, when the fly suddenly recom
menced her attack ou the obdurate
cranium. Mr. Poivry moved his arni3
and shook his head (still sleeping sound
ly), while his wife replaced her shawl
about her shoulders.
"Louisa," cried Paul, more pressing
ly. "I 1 ve yon. Oh! permit your
heart to love me in turn, dear, dear
Louisa."
This time the fly returned so rudely
to the charge against the enemy's works,
she agitated so well her little feet and
buzzed so loudly, that Mr. Poivry
thought he heard in the air an imperi
ous voice, crying: "Awake! awanei thou
imprudent man!"
Paul, who observed all these move
ments, implored with all his might the
bear in the table, with his massive, stone,
to crush something or somebody; but
the bear cime not. Mr. Poivry. teased
and irritated beyond ei-dnnnce, turned
ou his left side, an I, raising his right
hand, h gave a violent slap on Ids
forehead, killing his benefactor, the fly.
Oh. the ingratel
Ho raised himself to a sitting pos
ture, yawned heavily, stretched his arms
and legs to their utmost length, and
throwing a glance around him, saw his
wife a"d cousin seated at a vry resect
atle distance from each other, motion
less, silent, and apparently deeply ab
sorbed in their hooks.
"Ah!" said Mr. Poivry, "your book
seems to be very interesting, my dear
Paul."
"Hem! well ves I "
"What book is it?"
"A translation feom Moliere."
"Ah! It is the 'Blunderer' urobably?"
"No. It is the 'Femmes Savantes."'
"Oli! that doesn t concern us does
it Louisa?"
"Perhaps not," timidly responded the
yout g wife.
"Ah, well." sail Mr .Poivry, "con
tinue aloud, Paul; it will perhaps keep
me awake. Where were you?
"Act IV., scene III."
"I will g back to the commence
ment of the scene:
'Ioouieto you great news to tell-.'
It is Trissotin who speaks."
"Of course, mv dear 1kv. I know
well it is not you. Bead on."
"I begin agaiu:
I come to on great news to teU:
While sleeping, sir, you lost your belle
A Machine Switchman.
About as singular a railway signal
switch as we have ever seen has recent
ly been patented. Its inventor believes
that, when an engineer might fail to
head the indication of a semiphore or
some other purely mechanical appara
tus, he would be sure to notice the fran
tic gestures of a man posted beside the
track. As men of flesh and blood can
not probably be fouud who would be
willing to stand on a high pedestal lor
indefinite periods of time, and wave
their arms at exact intervals, a machine
man has been contrived who flourishes
a flag, hammers a bell, and displays a
changeable light in his hat with unfail
ing regularity. The man owes his
movements to clock-work operated by
weights, and the latter are controlled
by electricitv. When the train passes
it moves a little stop beside the track,
which by a mechanical connection,
shifts a switch, so that a current from a
main line of telegraph wire is diverted
into a short circuit. An electro-magnet
inside the machine man is thus excited,
and as it attracts its armature the latter
releases a detent. The weights then
descend, and the man waves his flag
aud pounds his bell, while the light
on his hat changes to red. When the
train has passed the current is broken
from the short circuit, but the man
keeps on his motions until a wheel in
his interior completes its revolution,
and thus allows the detents once more
to engage. Of course the time during
which he waves his flag, etc.. is long
enough to allow the train that has pass
ed to travel a considerable distance.
Scientific American.
Pas si Bete. All theKussias, we are
assured, lielieve that the English politi
cians who have supported them iu peace
will support them in. war. "Green
grow the Russias, ohP
Feeding and Care of Cows.
We will take this as the first opera
tion in the management of dairying; as
it is very essential that milcu cows
should be furnished at all times with an
abundant supply of sweet nutritious
food and pure water; also kept iu good
condition and perfect health.
Cows are living machines milk man
ufacturing machines; and if not provid
ed with go d fuel and water, the ma
chinery lags and stops. When milch
cows are confined on scanty feed, re
quiring a considerable portion of their
time to get a requisite supply of food,
or are obliged to travel loug distances
for driuk, they will secrete much less
milk and of a poorer quality, than when
they can fill themselves quickly with
sweet wholesome food, &"d then lie
down in the nhade and quietly rumin
ate their food and manufacture milk
from it. as their milk is made from what
they eat, and will contain properties of
it; therefore, cows should have such
food as will .yield milk of the best quali
ties for butter making, and that which
will produce the most of it. Grass is
considered the most natural, cheapest
and best, but as to the kind of grasses
that are best we are not fully competent
to recommend, but from our observa
tion and experience, can say that buiter
of excellent quality is made from herds
grass, white clover and tho different
kinds of June grasses.
No cow can produce pure and healthy
milk without she has pure aud healthy
food and drink. Whatever may cause
an unhealthy condition of a cow, it will
be sure to deteriorate her milk, and
nothing will bo more sure to do this
than scanty and poor food and drink,
rough treatment and exposure. A neg
lected or thin, feverish cow will not
only yield a diminished profit, but sh
will give feveiish milk, if any; "or, if
there is anything wrong with her, it
will affect her milk; or if she eats any
thing that has a strong or disagreeable
odor, it will surely appear in her milk,
cream, and the butter produced from
it, as her milk is one source she has of
casting off filth from her organism.
These facts should at all times e well
impressnd upon the minds of farmers,
but more especially in the spring of the
year, when cows are liable to be thin or
more or less feverish. Many farmers
keep their cows confined in stanchions
too great a portion of the time through
the long winter, and, too, iu small ill
ventilatml stables, where they cannot
always get fresh pure air, neither can
they have proper exercise. an-l water at
aix times wnen uesirea ana neenea uy
them.
Some allow their cows to lie out of
doors, exposed to the winter storms and
piercing winds, with s'iicelv ashed for
them to get uuer, which certainly cati
uot be good ei'oiinmv, for by such ex
posures they will require mucu more
food, and they will not be iu good con
dition iu the spring. It will tequiie a
great portion of the summer, and good
feed, for them to make up thi- lost con
dition, and, too, iu the best buttt r mak
ing season; neither will they yield as
much nr. Ik, lior as iich milk, its they
would if tney had good care through
the winter and were in good condition.
Iu winter, and especially ia th spring,
cows need especial attention and care.
Thev should have clean, warm, spacious
stables, well ventilated, and a vaiietv of
wholesome food in abundance, with es
ppcially well cured, early cut, fine hay,
also good water; and iu summer they
should be provided with good pastur
age in abundance, with plentiful sup
plies of ruuiiing water, and shade tree
or sheds to protect tin m from the iu
teuse rays of the i-un. There should be
sowed corn or other green herbage on
lund for all fe -ding, especially ltiadr.
autumn, and lt r as frosty weather ap
proaches. J. r. CorbtH.
Washington's Self Control. An
officer to whom he was verv much at
tached was taken dangerously ill, and
lie had him removed lrom his uucom
fort able quarters to a room in his own
house. La-e iu the evening one of his
aids with some other young officers, re
turned from a party in the country, and
gathering around the old fire-place grew
ouite hilarious over some iucident or in
cidents that had occurred. Washing
ton stepped out of his room adjoining,
and after exchanging a few words with
them, spoke of the sick omcer and his
dangerous condition. Th young offi
cers beoamo quiet, but after a little
while they forgot all about it, and were
as merry as ever. In lhe midst of their
jokes and laughter the door of Wash
ington's room opened very gently, and
the general himself appeared with a
candle in his hand. Crossing the floor
on tiptoe, he went into the kitchen as if
in search of something, and immediate
ly returned in the same noiseless, care
ful manner. The young men took the
hint, and immediately dispersed.
Mr. Lincoln's Horse Trde. When
Abraham Lincoln was a lawyer in Illi
nois, he and the judge once got to ban
tering one another about trading horses,
and it was agreed that at nine o'clock
the next morning they should make a
trade; the horses were to lo unseen up
to that hour, and no backing out under
a forfeiture of twenty-five dollars. At
the hour appointed the judge came up
leading the sorriest specimen of a horse
ever seen in those parts. In a few min
utes Mr. Lincoln was seen approaching
with a wood n saw horse upon his
shoulders. Great were the shouts and
laughter of the crowd, and both wer.
greatly increased w hen Mr. Lincoln, on
surveying the judge's animal, set down
his saw horse and exclaimed: "Well,
judge, this is the first time I ever got
he worst of it in a horse trade."
It is said of a very respectacle old
historic parish in Connecticut, that thev
starved their minister, and are now
.bout to erect a splendid monument to
his memory. He "asked for bread and
they gave him a stone."
Why should doctors be less liable to
be sick on the ocean? Because they are
mora used to see sickness.
Mother.
It is the cry of the infant just from
the cradle; it is the only balm that will
heal the woundtd heart in vouthfnl
days. "Mother, I'm hurt!" "M dher.
I'm tired!" "Mother, sing tome! Bock
cue tell me stories." It is always
"mother" with the child and the lad;
no one like mother; no hand that falls
on the fevered brow as softly as hers;
no words so soothing us those th;t pass
her hp; the house won hi le a grave
without her; life would be a dreary,
thorny ro.td without her warning voice
and ever-guiding hand. A fther m iy
be kind, may love not less, but the wea
ried child wants the mother's arms, her
pott lullably songs, the caresses of her
gentle hand.
All chih.hoodis a mixture of sunshine
and shadow. A kind word brings a
smile, a harsh word a sigh. The first
footsteps, weak and trembling, grow
stronger by the guidance of a mother's
love. The little wounds, the toru gar
ments, the headaches and heartaches,
the trials, all vanish at the word3 of a
mother; and there is built up in the
heart of every man an edifice of love
and respect that no crime of his can
overthrow no prison cell affect.
Ami a lad grows to be a man only to
find that "mother" is the same. If he
errs, she weeps; if he is good and man
ly, she rejoices. Hers is the only love
that lasts that endures forever. The
wolf of starvation may enter the door,
but her love i3 only tried to shine the
brighter All the woild may call her
sou a criminal, but the mother believes
it not. Trials may beset you, storms
gather over you. vexations come; rum
drag you down; but there is one who
ever stands firm in your cause, who will
never leave you. The criminal on the
scaffold has suffered in feeling because
his bad deeds would cause a pang in
mother's heart. Tne low and wretched
dying in some dark abode of sin, have
died with that dear and never-to-be-for
gotten name on their lips. There is no
praise like her praise, there are no sad
tears that paiu us so much as hers.
Ihank God, then, reader, that we
have kind, loving aud affectionate moth
ers. How pleaat it is, in after life, to
recall those fond recollections when we
used to sit on her knee and hear her
sing those sweet, dear old songs, so fa
miliar to us all.
"Hush. my babe, lie still aud tdsmber.
Holy angels truant thy b d ;
Heave.ily angels, without number,
G ntly tailing ou ttiy Lead."
Etrthly things may pass away and be
forgotteu. but the good, all-embracing
love of mother will never be forgotten
on earth or in heaven.
English Mothers.
It is a marked feature of social life in
England, and certainly one of its esje
cial charms, that mothers and daugh-
tes are so uniformly seen together at
theirown houi s. Not only is the moth
er the first lady to whom yon ar3 intr
dnced at the house where you visit, but
mistress of the ceremonies throughout.
N-t only does she preside at the dinner
table, but in the evening party she sits
as n queen. Whatever may be your first
impression of such an arrangement if
it happens that your syinpathhies are
with the younger l tdies you will rery
soon le.irn to think that the mother's
absence would be very sincerely regret
ted by the daughters. As a picture, all
must admit the arrangement to be per
fect. The portly form and matronh
ditrnity of the mother are au exquisite
foil to the youthful beauty and maiden
coyness of the daughters. And you
will find nothing to mar, but every
thing to enham-e the interest of the pic
ture. The mother s presence never
seems to operate as an unwelcome re
straint. Between her and the daugh
ters you will mark tho most joful.
playful, loving fredoiu, -without the
sacrifices of a little parental dignity ami
authority on the one hand, or of sweet,
graceful, filial duty on the other. It
may be said of Eugli.-di families gene
rally, that these two things are eminent
ly characteristic, to wit: unifoi m parent
al authority, and the most charming
freedom of intercourse between parents
and their children.
Mr. Beecher's Advice about House
keeping. Mr. Beecher, af t r sprink
ling twenty-six babies one Sunday, ad
vised young people when they married
to set up housekeeping for themselves.
He would not take any consideration for
the three years of his life wheu he set
tled down iu the immortal county of
Dearborn, town of Lawrencebnrg, in
Indiana, where he was )id at the rate
of S100 a year. With 200 of that mon
ey he came East and got married. After
he and his wife returned to Indiana,
they lived in two rooms. What furni
ture they had was given to them; and,
continued Mr. Beecher, "if I was put
upon my confession. I should say that I
wore Judge Burke's clothing." The
clergyman somewhat humorously de
scribed the home and his battle for life,
and feelingly added: "When I look
back to those happy years, I would 'nt
part with them for "untold gold." He
continued, that it was a great mistake
for young people to imagine that they
must defer matrimony until they had
secured wealth.
Don't be too Critical. Whatever
you do, never set up for a critic. We
ilo not mean a newspaper one, but in
private life, in the domestic circle it will
do you harm if vou object to being
called disagreeable. If you don't like
any one's nose, or object to any one'
chin, don't putyourfeelings into words.
If any one's manners don't please, re
member your own. People are not all
made to suit one taste, recollect that.
Take things as you find them unless
vou can alter them. Even a dinner that
is swallowed cannot be made any ietter.
Continual fault-finding, continual criti
cism of the conduct of this one and the
speech of that one, the dress of th oth
er and the opinions of another, will
make home the unhappiest place under
tha sun.
An TJi. fortunate Valentine.
The Stirling correspondent of the
Glasgow Herald tells" the following
story: "Some six weeks ago there ap
leared at one of the hotels in Stirling a
young man giving the name of Lat-hlau
Cameron, stating he would le glad to
be taken on as boots or stableman, or
anything of the kind. B. ing an inno
cent looking Highlander, im licit cre
dence was gin to his story, and he ob
tained employment. Everything went
on smoothly till the valentine season
came round. Some of Lachlaii'a fellow
servants thought they would gt-t a liitle
fun out of sending him a valei.tino in
the shape of a summons from the Court
of Hymen at the in-tauce of 'Jessie Mc
D.mald,' and they accordingly carried
out their plan, the consequences of
which they could not foresee. An ob
liging policeman was got to serve the
summons on the victim of the plot,wbo
never having seen a document of the
kind lefore, believed it was a genuine
legal instrument, the commands of
which he was bound to oley. Protest
ing that he had done nothing iu contro
vention of the law, and that hi was en
entirely ignorant of who "J-saie Mc
Donald was, he took counsel with his
comrades, and they seriouc!y advised'
him to go to the Procurator-Fiscal's of
fice, anl state his case there, when
doubtless the mystery would be cleared
up. Lachlan, thinking the advice good,
immediately acted upon it, and finding
the proper place, he poured his tale into
the iisf-ning ears of one or two of Fis
cal's clerks, who, with difficulty main
taining their gravity, directed him
dowu stairs to the office of Chief Con
stable Camplell. Haviug heard the
story and Lachlan's earnest declaimer,
of any knowledge of the fair pursuer,
the chief directed his visitor to take a
seat while he looked up some papers
that might throw light ou the ease. He
was not long in coming upon a copy of
'Police Information setting forth that
a young miu calling himself Liohlari
McLachlan was wanted ' in consequence
of having passed a sjjuriotis half sover
eign in the village of Bannockburn
some months previously, and giving a
description of the guilty erson. He
taxed, the astonished Lachlan with Ixung
the missing man, ami after a faint de
nial Cameron confessed his identity,
and within ten minutes of entering the
county buildings he was imprisoned in
one of its comfortable cells, with the
gloomy prospect of having to appear be
fore tho Circuit Court on a charge of
uttering base coin
A Ttjbkish Eqcipaok. We clip the
following description of a Turkish vehi
cle from a recent mstrazine nketch enti
tled "The Sultan's Harem:"
"The vehicle in which they are con
veyed is called an arabah. It is very
primitive in its construction , and re
sembles a farm wagon, without springs
or seats. The side-boards are elaborate
ly decorated with carving, paint aud
gilding, the ends left open, and the top
part provided with hoops, which are
covered with a so-t of rich red, shaggy
cloth fringed with gold.
"Velvet mattresses are spread on the
platform of the wagon, on which the
I alies sit; elegantly embroidered cush
ions support their elbows. Ingress and
egress to this vehicle are lwrformed
y means of a temporarv ladder placed
in the rear.
"This m ttbah is drawn by a couple of
oxen, whose foreheads are adorned with
a sort of breast-plate, decked out in
pieces of glass and variegated beada,
s.nd their tails made fast to tasaled
trappings proceeding from the yoke
pins, which arch over their backs, in
or.Ier to prevent their spattering mud.
"Of course there is no set for the
driver. This functionary walks in-fore
the animals, and his adjunct leside
hem, to goal them on when required.
Besides these two, a train of black
;Uurds eunuchs and other footmen
surround the carriage, either for pro
tection or for service."
The Deacon Answered. Up in New
Hampshire, where I used to live when a
boy, (says Gov. Noyes) there was an
old deacon who was a great t'e.il more
pious than honest. He was an old hy
pocrite, and when he had done any par
ticularly mean thing he eased his con
fidence by gointr out into a field, along
one side of which was a stone wall, and
kneeling beside it. praying to the Lord
to topple it over on him if he had done
anything offensive to Him or wrong in
His sight. Well, we loys found it out,
and one day when we saw the deacon
making for the stone wall, we got on the
other side and waited. He knelt down
according to his usual custom, and went
through his usual formula, closing with
the petition to have the wall toppled
over if he had done anything wrong.
And we toppled it. Jumping out from
under the stones, the old man ciied, in
tones of mingled disgust and alarm:
"Good gracious! Can't you tell when
a man is joking?"
In the dim, uncertain twilight of the
soft May evening, a distracted figure
was seen hastily flitting down the street
of an Ohio town in the direction of the
railway st-ation. It slapped a lank and
hungry grigpack on the bracket of the
window and demanded in husky tones:
"Ticket!" "Whete to?" calmly asked
the unruffled, monopolist behind the
window. "Anywhere! Anywhere!"
was the frenzied response. "Any
wherel Clean through! Clean across!
To Bnrglary, or Prdosy, ortheDannbe,
or Diffendorfer, or any place. Any
where out of an ungrateful country that
coldly turns its back upon its deserving
children. Anywhere out of America."
And he bowed his head and wept. He
was the only man in Ohio that didn't
get an office. Durlingto Ilavokeye.
Very Much So. An old bachelor
was courting a widow, and both sought
the art to give their fading hair a dark
er shade. 'That's going to be an af
fectionate couple, said a wag. "How
so?" asked a friend. "Why, don't you
see that they are dying for each other
all ready!" was the reply.