The Exeter Times, 1888-8-2, Page 3'"ROUGHIN.9.1r IN. THE.. •
• (MAKER III.
°us JOURNEY 'or Tim eourixav.
Fly this plague -stricken spot 1 The ho
foul air
Is rank with pestilence—the crowded mart
And public ways, once populeue with life.
Are still and noisome as a aurally&
vault;
Aghast end shuddering, Nature holds h
breath
In abject fear, end feels at her strong hea
The deadly pangs of death.
Of Montreal I can say but little, Th
cholera was at its height, and the fear of in
fection, which increased the nearer w
apprhaehed its shores, Oast a gloom over th
merle, hied prevented la from exploring i
infected streets. That the feelings of all o
board ye.ry nearly resembled our own rnigh
be read in the anxious fame of both Tamen
gars and orew. Our captain, who ha
never before hinted that he entertained an
apprehensione on the subject, now confide
to us his conviction that he should neve
quit the city alive: "This accursed cholera
Left it in Russia --found it on my return t
Leith—meets Ille again in Canada. No es
cape the third time," If the captain's predie
tion proved true in his cash, it was so in
ours. We left the cholera in Eneland, w
met it again in, Scotland, and. under th
providence cf God, we eseaped its fatal visi
tation in Canada.
Yet the fear and the dread of it on tha
first day caused me to throw many an anx
ions glance on my: huaband and child. I had
been very ill during the three weeks tha
our vessel was becalmed upon the Banks of
Newfoundland, and to this circumstance I
attribute my deliverance from the pesti-
lence. I was weak and nervous when the
vessel errived at Quebec, but the voyage up
the St. Lawrence, the fresh air and beautiful
scenery were rapidly restoring me to health.
Montreal from the river wears a pleasing
aspect, but it looks the grandeur, the stern
sublimity of Quebec. The fine mountain
that forma the back -ground to the city., the
Island of St. Helens in front, and the junc-
tion of the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa—
which run side by side their respective
boundaries only marked by a long ripple of
white foam, and the darker blue tints of the
fernier river,—constitute the most remark-
able feature in the landscape.
The town was, at that period, dirty and
ill -paved; and the opening of all the sewers,
in order to purify the -place and stop the
ravages of the pestilence, rendered the pub-
lic thoroughfares almost impassible, and
loaded the air with intolerable effluvia, more
likely to produce than to stay the course of
the rdahne, the violence of which had, in all
probability, been inoreased by these long -
neglected receptades of uncleanliness.
Tile dismal stories told us by. the excise-
officerindio came to inspect the unloading of
the went, of the frightful ravages of the
cholera, by no means increased our desire to
go on shore.
"It will be a miracle if you escape " he
said. "Hundreds of emigrants die daily ;
and if Stephen Ayree had not providentially
mine among us, not a soul would have been
alive at this moment in Montreal."
"(And who is Stephen Ayres ? " said I.
" God only knows," was the grave reply.
" There was a man sent from heaven, and
his name was John."
"But I thought this man was called
Stephen ? "
" Ay, so he calls himself; but 'tis certain
a that he is not of the earth. Flesh and blood
could never do what he has done,—the hand
of God is in it. • Besides, no one knows who
he is, or whence he comes. When the
cholera was at the worst, and the hearts of
men stood still with fear, and our doctors
could do nothing to stop its progress, this
man, or angel, or saint, suddenly made his
appearance in our streets. He came in great
humility, seated in an ex -cart, and drawn
by two lean oxen and a rope harness. Only
think of that! Such a man in an old ox-
cart, drawn by rope harness 1 The thing
itself was a nuraele. He made no parade
about what he could do, but only fixed up a
plain pasteboard notice,. informing the pub-
lic that he possessed an infallible remedy for
the cholera, and would engage to cure all
who sent for him."
1' .And was he successful ?"
"Successful 1 It beats all belief; and
his remedy so simple For some days we.
took him for a quack, and would have no
faith in him at all, although he performed
some wonderful cures upon poor folks, who
could not afford to send for the doctor. The
Indian village was attacked by the disease,
and he went out to them, and restored up•
wards of a hundred of the Indiana to perfect
health. They took the old lean oxen out of
the cart and drew him to Montreal in tri-
umph. This 'stablished him at once, and in
• a few days' time he made a fortane. The
very doctors sent for him to cure them; and t
it is to be hoped that in a few days he will
banish the disease from the city."
"Do you know his famous remedy
"Do I not?—Did be not cure me when I c
was at the last gasp? Why, he made no
secret of it. It is all drawn from the maple t
tree. First he rubs the patient all over f
with an ointment, made of hog's lard and a
maple -sugar and ashes from the maple tree; p
and he gives hina a hot draught of maple -
syrup and ley, which throws him into a
violent perspiration. In about an hour the
cramps subside ; he falls into a quiet sleep, a
and when he awakes he is perfectly restor- a
ed to health." Such was our first tidings
of Stephen Ayres, the cholera doctor, who a
is universally believed to have affectedsome s
wonderful cures. He obtained a wide cote. y
brity throughout the colony. t
The day of our arrrival in the port d
real was spent in packing and preparing w
sor or long journey up the country. At u
sunset I went •upon dealt to enjoy the re- t
freshing breeze that swept from the river. s
The evening was delightful; the white c
tents of the soldiers on the Ieland of St. t
Helene glittered in the beams of the sun,
and he bugle -call, wafted over the waters, t
sounded so cheery and inspiring, that it o
banished all fears of the cholera,. and the ft
heavy gloom that clouded my mind since d
we left Quebec. I could once more hold w
eweet converse with nature, and enjoy the g
soft loveliness of the rich and harmonious T
'• mem. e
A loud cry from one of the crew startled 0
me; I turned towards the river, and beheld A
a man struggling in the water a short dis-
tance from the vessel. He was a young c
sailor who had fallen from the bowsprit of b
a boat near us. • o
There is Something terribly exciting in y
beholding a fellow-ere:auto in imminent h
peril, without having the power to help
him. To witness hie death.etruggies,—to b
feel in your own person all the dreadful at r
ternations of hope and fear,—and,
• to see h'in die, with scarcely an effort made w
for hi0 preservation. This was our case. sp
At the nunnent he fell into the water, a la
boat with three men was within a few yards re
of the spot, and actually sailed over the w
eepot where he sank. Cries of " Shaine 1" U
from the crowd collected upon the bank of vi
the river had ne effect in rousing these peo-
ple to attempt the moue ef le perishing
fellow -creature, The boat 'gassed on. The
t, drowning man again rose to the surface, elle
Convulsive motion of his hande and feet,
a, visible abeve the water) but it Was evident
that the struggle would be hie last.
rd " Is it possible thatthey will let a human
being perish, and EPA near the shore, When
er an oar held out would save hia life ?"
was the agonizing question at my heart, as
rt I gazed, half -maddened by ciaaaaneee, oi
the fearful spectacle. The eyes of a multi-
tude were fixed upon the Same objeot,—but
e not a hand stirred. Every one seemed to
expect from his fellow an effort which he
e was incapable of attempting himself.
e Ab this moment—splash a sailor plun.ged
te into the water from the deck of a neigh -
n houring vessel, and dived after the drown -
,t ing man. A deep Thank God 1" burst
. from my heart. J. drew a freer breath as
d the brave fellow's head appeared above the
y water. He called to the men in the boat to
d throw him an oar, or the drowning man
would be the death, of them both, Slowly
1 they put back the boat,—the oar was hand -
o ed; laub it came too Intel The sailor,
- whose name was Cook, had been obliged to
shake off the hold of the dying man to save
his own life, He dived again to the bottom,
e and inicceeded in bringing to shore the body
e of the unfortunate being he had vainly en-
deavored to succor. Shortly after, he came
on board our vessel, foaming with passion at
t the barbarous indifference manifested by the
. men in the boat.
"End they given me the oar in time, I
could have saved him. I knew him well—
he was an excellent fellow, and a good sea-
man. He has left a wife and three children
in Liverpool. Poor Jane 1—how can I tell
her that I could not save her husband ?"
He wept bitterly, and it was amoseible
for any of us to witness his emotion without
joining in his grief.
From the mate I learned that this same
young man had saved the lives of three wee
men and a child when the boat was swamp-
ed Grosse Isle, in attempting to land the
passengers from the Hensley Hill.
Such aots of heroisra are common in the
lower welks of life. Thus, the purest gems
are often encased in the rudest orust ; and
the finest feelings of the human heart are
fostered in the chilling atmeephere of pov-
erty,
While this sad event occupied all our
thoughts, and gave rise to many painful re-
flections an exclamation of unqualified de-
light once changed the current of our
thoughts, and filled us with surprise and
pleasure. Maggie Grant had fainted in the
arms of her husband.
Yee, there was lam,—her dear, reckless
Tam,. after all her tears and lamentations,
pressing his young wife to his heart, and
calling her a thousand endearing pet names.
He had met with some countrymen at
Quebec, had taken too much wniskey on the
joyful occasion, and lost his passage in the
4nne but had followed a few hours later in
another steamboat ; and he assured the
now happy Maggie, as he kissed the infant
Tam, whom 'she held up to his admiring
gaze, that he would never be guilty of the
like again. Perhaps he kept his word; but
I much fear that the first temptation would
make the lively laddie forget his promise.
Our luggage having been removed to the
Custom -house, including our bedding, the
captain collected all the ship's flags for our
accommodation, of which we formed a toler-
ably comfortable bed; and if our dreams
were of England, could it be otherwise, with
her glorious flag wrapped around us and our
heads resting upon the Union Jack'?
In the morning we were obliged to visit
the city to make the necessary arrangements
for our upward journey.
The day was intensely hot. A bank of
thunder clouds lowered heavily above the
mountain, and the close, dusty streets were
silent and nearly deserted. Here and there
might be seen a group of anxious looking,
care -worn, aiekly emigrants, seated againet
a wall among their packages, and sadly
ruminating upon their future prospects.
The sullen toll of the death -bell, the ex-
posure of ready-made coffin's in the under.
takers' windows, and the oft-recarring no-
tice placarded on the walls, of funerals fur.
nished at such and such a place, it cheapest
rate and shortest notice, painfully reminded
us, at every turning of the street, that death
was everywhere—perhaps lurking in our very
path; felt no desire to examine the
beauties of the place. With this ominous
feeling pervading our minds, public build-
ings possessed few attractions, and we de
termined to make cur stay as short as pos-
sible.
Compared with the infected city, our ship
appeared an ark of safety, and we returned
to it with joy and confidence, too soon to be
destroyed: 't1 e had scarcely re-entered our
cabin when tidings were brought to us that
he Cholera had male its appearance;
brother of the captain had been attacked.
It was advisable that we should leave the
vessel immediately, before the intelligence
ould reach the health officers. A few min-
utes sufficed to make the necessary prepare. -
ions ; and in less than half -an -hour we
ound ourselves occupying comfortable
partments in Goedenough's hotel, and our
usage taken in the stage for the following
morning.
The transition was like a dream. • The
hang° from the close, rank ship to large,
iry, well -furnished x °omit and clean attend-
nts, was a luxury we should have ,enjoyed
ad not the dread of the cholera involved
11 things around us in gloom and apprehen-
ion. No one spoke upon the subject; and
et it was evident that it was uppermost in
he thoughts of all. Several emigrants had
ied of the terrible disorder during the
eek, beneath the very roof that sheltered
and its ravages, we were told, had ex.
ended up the country as far as lhingston ;
o that it was still to be the phantom of our
oming eourney, if we were fortunate enough
o escape from its headquarters,
At six o'clock the following morning, we
ook our places in the coach for Lachine, and
ur fears of the plague greatly diminislaed
s we left the spires of Montreal in the
istance. The journeyfrorn Montreal wed-
ard has been so well described by many
ifted pets, that I ahall say little about it.
he banks of the $t. Lawrence are pictua,
ague and beautiful, particularly in those
pets where there le a good viety of the
mcnican side. The neat farenhouees look -
d to me, whose eyes had been eo long A:a-
ustere:id to the watery waste, homes of
eauty and happiness; and the splendid
rchards, the trem that season of the
ear being loaded with ripening fruit of all
nes, were refreehing awl delieioue.
My partiality for the apple:: was regarded
y felloev.traveller with a species of hor,
or, Touell them not, if you value your
fe." Every draught of fresh air and
cater inspired me with renewed health and
irits, and I disregarded the well -meant
dvice ; the gentleman who gave it had just
coveted frem the terrible dieeme4
aiS a middle-aged man, a farmer from the
pper Provirice, Canadian born. He had
sited Montreal on basiness for the first
,
time. " Well, sir, he said in answer to
some questions put to him by my huaband
rehpeoting the disease, "I can tell you what
za; a num einitten with the cholera etares I
d_ ee•th debt ID tie face; and the torment he
is Ruffed ag is no great that he would gladly
die to get rid of At."
° Yet; Were fortunate, C--, to eeeape,"
maidu backwood settler, who ocoupied the
opposite sent; "ninny a younger man died
of lb."
0 Ay; but I believe I never should have
taken it had it not been for some ehinge
they gave me for supper at the hotel ; oyetere
they oalled them, oystere ; they were alive 1
I was persuaded by a friend to eat them,
and I liked them well enough at the time.
But I declare to you that I felt them: erawl-
ing over one another in my stomach all
night. The next morning I was mized with
cholera."
"Did you swallow them whole C---7--?"
oh'. the former spokesmah, Who seemed
highly tickled by the evil doings of the oys-
ters.
"To be euro. I tell you, the creatures
are alive. You put them on your tongue,
and I'll be bound you'll be glad to let them
slip down as fast as you 0411.'
"No wonder you had the oholera," said
the backwoods man, "you deserved it for
your barbarity. If I had a good plate ot
oysters here, I'd teach you the way to eat
them."
Our journey during the first day was per-
formedpartly by coach, partly by steam. It
was nine o'clock in the evening when we
landed at Cornwall, and took coach to Pres-
cott. The denary through which we passed
appeared beautiful in the clear light of the
moon ; but the air was cold, and hlightly
sharpened by frost. This seemed, strange
to me in the early part of September, but it
. mi
is very co
mon n Canada. Nine pencil-
gers were closely packed into our narrow
vehicle, but the aides being of canvas, and
the open space allowed for windows
unglazed, I shivered with cold, which
amounted to a state of suffering, when
the day broke, and we approached
the little village of Matilda. It was
unanimously voted by all hands that we
should stop and breakfast at a small hill
by she road -side and warm ouriielves be-
fore proceeding to Prescott.
The people in the tavern were not stirring,
and it was some time before an old white.
headed man unolosed the door, and showed
us into a room, redolent with fumes of tobac-
co, and darkened by paper blinds. I asked
him if be would allow me to take my infant
into a room with a fire.
"1 guess Hi was a pretty cold night for
the like of her," said he. "Come, I'll show
you to the kitchen; there's always a fire
there." Ialeerfully followed accompanied
by our servant.
Oar entrance was unespected, and by no
means agreeable to the persons we found
there. A half -clothed, red-haired Irish ser-
vant was upon her knees kindling up the
fire; and a long thin woman, with a sharp
• face, and an eye like a black snake, was
just emerging from a bed in the corner. We
soon discovered this apparizion to be the
mistreat of the house.
"Tho people can't come in here !" she
screamed in a shrill voice, darting daggers
at the poor old man.
" Sure there's a baby, and the two women
critters are perished with cold," pleaded the
good old man.
What's that to me? They have no busi-
ness in my kitchen."
"Now, Almira, do hold on. It's the
made has stopped to breakfast with us ; and
you know we don't often gel: the chance."
.e.11 this time the fair Alraira waft dressing
as fast as she could, and eyeingher unwel-
come female guests, as we stood shivering
over the fire.
"Breakfast 1" she muttered, "what can
we give them to eat? They pass our door
a thousand times without any one alight.
ing ; and now, when we are out of every-
thing, they must stop and order breakfast,
at such an unreasonable hour. Hove many
are there of you ?" turning fiercely to me.
"Nine," I answered, laconically, continu-
ing to chafe the cold hands and feet of the
child.
"Nine 1 That bit of beef will be nothing
cut into steaks for nine. What's to be
done, Joe ?" (to the old man.)
"Eggs and ham, sunamea of that dried
venison, and pumpkin pie," responded
the aide de-eamp, thoughtfully. "1 don't
know of any other fixings."
"Bestir yourselt, then, and lay out the
table, for the coach can't stay long," cried
the virago, seizing a trying -pan from th•3
wall, and preparing it for the reception of
the eggs and ham. "1 must have the fire
to myself. People can't came crowding
here, when I have to fix breakfast for nine ;
particularly when there is a good room
elsewnere provided for their accommoda-
tion." I took the hint, and retreated to
the parlor, where I found the rest of the
passengers walking two and fro, and im-
patiently awaiting the advent of the break-
fast.
To do Almira justice, she prepared from
her scanty materials a very substantial
breakfast in an incredibly short time, for
which she charged us a quarter of a dollar
per head.
At Prescott we embarked on a fine new
steamboat, William IV., crowded with
Trish emigrants, proceeding to Cobourg and
Toronto.
While pacing the deck, my husband was
greatly struck by the appearance of a
middle-aged man and his wife, who sat
apart from the rest, and seemed struggling
with intense grief, which, in spite of all
their efforts at concealment, was strongly
impressed upon their features. Some time
after, I fell into conversteion with the wo-
man, from whom I learned their little his-
tory. The husband was factor to a Smith
gentlemen, of large landed property, who
had employed him to visit Canada, and re-
port the capabilities ofethe country, !prior
to his investing a large sum of money in
wild lands. The expenees of their voyage
had been paid, and everything up to that
morning had prospered with them. They
had been bimetal with a speedy passage, and
were greatly ]pleased with the country and
the people ; but of what avail was all this?
Their only son, a fine lad of fourteen, had
died that dey of the cholera, and all their
hopes for the future were buried in hie
grave, For hie sake they had sought a
home in this far land ; and here, at the very
outset of their new career, the fen disease
had taken him from thetn for ever—here
where, in such a crowd, the poor heart-
broken nother could not even indulge her
natural grief 1
"Ala, for a plthee where I might greet 1"
she said ; it would relieve the burning
weight at my heart. But with sae many
straege eyes glowering upon me, I tak'
shame to inyseP to greet."
"Ah, Jeannie, my puir yeoman," said the
husband, grasping her hand, "ye mein I
bear up ; 'tier God's will ; an sinful creatutesi
like us manna repine. But oh, madam,'
turning to me, " we have sair hearts the '
day 1" (
Poor bereaved creatures, how deeply
commiserated their grief,—how I respected
the poor father, in the stern efforts he made
to conceel from indifferent SpedtatOtS the
anguish that Weighed upon his mind 1 Tears
are the beat balm that otAn be applied to the
anguish of the heart. Religion eaches mien
to bear his eerrowe with becoming fortitude,
but tears contribute largely both to often
and to heal the wounds from whence they
flow
At Brockville we took in a arof
tony of the eabin, and I was antueen b
ladies, which somewhat relieved t14'..
e Mono-
lietening to their lively prattleeand the little
goesip with which they strove to wile away
the tedium of the voyage. The day Was 00
etormy to go upon deck,—thunder and
lightning, accompanied with torrents of
ram. Amid the confusion of the elements,
I tried to get a peep at the Lake of the
Theusands Isles '• but the driving storm
blended all objeots into one, and I returned
wet and disappointed to my berth. We
passed King:3ton at midnight, and lost all
our lady passengers but two. The gale oon-
tinued until daybreak, and noise and con.
fusion prevailed all night, which was greatly
increased by the uproarious conduct of a
wild Irish emigrant, who thought fit to
make bis bed upon the mat before the cabin
door. He sang, he shouted, he harangued
hie, countrymen on the political state of the
Emerald Isle in a style which was loud if
not elocalexh. Sleep was impossible,
whilst his stentorian lungs continued to
pour forth torrents of unmeaning sound.
Our Dutch etewiardesswas highly enraged.
His conduct, she said, "was perfectly on -
decent." She opened the door, and, be-
stowing upon him several kieks, bade him
get away " OUt of that," or she would corn -
plain to the captain.
In answer to this remonstrance, he caught
ber by the foot, and pulled her down. Then
raving the tattered remains of his straw
hat in the air, he shouted with an air of
triumph, " Git out wicl you, you ould witch!
Shure the ladies, the purty darlint ,s never
sent you wid that ugly namage to Pat,'
who loves them so entirely, that he means
to kape watch over them through the bless-
ed night." Then making a ludicrous bow,
he continued, "Ladies, I'm at your sar-
vicxi ; I only wish I could get a dispensation
from the Pope, and I'd marry yeas all."
The stewardess bolted the door, and the
mad fellow kept up Emil a racket that we
all wished him at the bottom of the Ontario.
The following day was wet and gloomy.
The storm had protracted the length of our
voyage for several hours, and it was mid-
night when we landed at Cobourg.
(To rte CONTINUED.)
A Beranade.
BY LEIGU STURGEON.
I've seen sweet faces smile,
I've seen eyes flash and beam,
But thy bewitching style
East all my heart's fond dream.
I've seen the wild sea waves
Far up the white sande play,
Like the great flood that laves
Me with thy brilliancy.
I've seen no gem -set thing,
In treasure casket lie,
Like the rich ruby ring
That holds thy diamond sigh.
I've seen no driven snow,
On lof Vest Alpine peak,
Fair ae the lilies blow
About thy rosy cheek.
I've seen no blossom ride
The dantling morning breeze,
As gtacefully as life's tide
Thy gentle bosom heaves.
I've seen no pearly hue,
No beauteous rainbow tints,
Like that sweet blessful glow
Thy lovely present* glints.
I've seen no page of fate
As Nu of mortal bliss
As when our fond lips mate
In a "flee•minute" kiss.
•Sensations in Freezing'.
Death by freezing is said to be quite pain-
less, after its first stages have been passed.
A writer in Chambers' Journal describes his
own sensations when, after a day in the
Alps, the sunset was followed by a rapid
change in the atmosphere to a state of ex-
treme odd. He was not prepared for the
alteration of temperature, and found himself
speedily overpowered by the cold.
• Everything looked hazy to my vision—
even the snow, and the rooks lying about,
were apparently enveloped in a fog, although
the afternoon was beautifully dear. Then
I felt that I must sit down and enjoy the
scene, but the guide's liask of Kirschwasser
set me going again.
Very soon, however, the former feeling
returned, but the same treatment tempor-
arily helped no. At length, I took to
stumbling along, fell several times, and
lost my power of aiding myself. My com-
panions urged me to make one more effort,
but in vain.
Two monks from the hospice were brought
to the rescue,and they, with the guide,
took me seriously in hand; shaking me up,
they made my hands clasp a belt round tlie
guide's waist, and, each of the monks tak-
ing an arm, they pulled me through the sev-
en and a half miles to the hospice.
The sensations of that journey, during
occasional gleams of consciousness, will
never be erased from my mind. No words
can express the surprising desire I had to
sit down and sleep. I remember seeing two
somethings, black but very indistinct, one on
each side. These, of course, were the
friendly monks.
The overwhelming idea that filled my
mind was the necessity of getting to sleep,
that blissful state of which poets have sung
and of which my companions were doing
their best to rob me, just as I had got it
within my grasp.
Make Your Own lee Cream.
Ice cream is a luxury whioh is greatly a:p.
predated during the warm months. An me
cream freezer costs about two dollars and a
half, and once that is bought cream ova be
made at hoixte at very little expense. The
trouble of preparation is not nearly so great
as is often supposed, and the result /a so
satisfactory that these who are fond of ice
cream are advised to try it. Besides the
freezer a wooden mallet for pouee lug ice and
a stout canvas bag to pound lee: ice in are
indispensable. To make the c aleM use one
pint, good meaeure, of rich rank. Let this
boil, thedraix together two table -spoonfuls
flour, one cupful of sugar, and four or five
eggs, Beat these very lightly and stir into
the boiling milk. Cook 20 minutes and set
away to cool. When ready to freeze add
one quart of cream, if you have it, or one
pint of oream and one pint or quart of milk.
Put this in the freezer. Pack the tub full of
pounded ice and salt, using about two and a.
half pints of salt evenly distributed through
the ice. Turn the handle of the freezer eloW-
lyat first and very rapidly for the laat few
minutes. /n about tWOnty minutes you trill
have a nice ice cream, Take out the beater,
put on the cover, being dareitAl to put a
cork in the place evheie the beater goes
through. Put a, blanket or piece rif old car-
pet over it, and by putting the freezer in a
cooli dark place it will keep 'several hOurs
without any mere ioe,
A great many persons spoil ice ereem by
e:rfEri:d9
g with ib, if it is let alone it will
keep. all right if the above directions are
YOUNG FOLKS.
A 1,eap-Year Boy.
"To -morrow is my birthday!" said Robby
to 11bby.
"What 18 your birfday?" said Bobby to
Robby,
°0 Why, to -morrow, silly!" said Robby.
Now Robby was nearly six years old, and
a person of great importance.
"I don't mean that," said little Bebb5")
who was not four, "I mean, what is olir
birfclay? Is it hood to eat?"
"Why; why -eel Bobby Belll don't you,
have birthdays?" cried Robby, opening his
repo.
"Nor said Bobby, opening his mouth,"
neoblerYosanwone."idon'see them," said Robby, in a
patronising tune. You have them; it is the
day you were born, and you have a party
and presents, and a birthday cake with frost.
ng, and your name on ie in pink letters, and
oandy and oranges, and a gold dollar with
grandmainmees • 'eve to her dear little boy.
BDoobyboyuBreelail4 mean that you never had one,
Little Bobby looked very grave, Per-
haps 1 wasn't born," he said. "I's going
to ask mamma." She trotted in to mother,
"Mamma," he said, "wee I born?"
Mamma looked at him a moment in unite
surprise, "Were you born, dear ?" she re-
peated. "Yes, certainly, you were born,
dear. Why do you ask rae that, little boy?"
Bobby's lip began to quiver, and his blue
eyes filled with team "Den why—why
don't I have birfbays?" he aeked.
Mamm a looked very sorry. "Dearldearl»
she said. Now, who has been tellng my
leap year boy about birthdays? Come and
sit on mamma's lap, and tell me all about
it."
So Bobby climbed up on to mamma's lap
and hid his fame in her dress, and sobbed
out his little story about frosted cake and
pink letters, and gold dollars with grand-
maminit'S love to her dear little boy. "And
neber—I Lieber had. any," he said, pit-
eously.
Then mamma told Bobbie a. funny story.
It was about the years and it told how
they came along, one after the other, and
how each year had just the same number of
days in it.
Three—hundred—and sixty-five;
So many days I've been alive.
Storm and shine, and sorrow and cheer,
Really there never was such a year.
That is what each one says before it puts
on its nightcap and goes to sleep.
But every fourth year there comes one
who is bigger than the rest. He has one day
more, and he is very proud of it, and holds
his head yery,high, and says--
Three—hundred—and sixty-six;
One more day for frolicsome tricks.
One day more for mirth and play;
Look at me I look at me I One more day I 1 I
"And so, four years ago," said mamma,
"there mine one of those extra days, and it
was the very best day that any year ever
brought, for on that day my Bobby was
born. Think of that 1"
Bobby laughed and clapped his little fat
hands.
"And so," continued mamma, of course
Bobby couldn't have anoth erbirthday, till
anotherlongyear came round with another ex-
tra day. And now—whisper Bobby—now the
longyear has come ; and nextWednsday isyour
birthday, dear; and you are going to have
—oh 1 but I mustn't tell."
Mamma laughed and shook her head, and
didn't. tell any more, but her eyes told
a great deal; - and that was all Bobby
wanted, for he was very fond of -surprises
and secrets.
He hugged mamma, and then he hugged
himself, and then he went and hugged
the kitten, and told her all about
and what he thought he was going to
have.
Well, and it all came true and a great
deal more; for Bobby had the finest birth-
day that ever anylittle boy had, or any little
girl either. In feet, it was so very tine
Shat I couldn't possibly write about it in
common black ink on•white paper. I should
have to take silver paper and gold ink;
and the editor says I cannot do that, so I
shall have to stop now. Isn't that to
bad?
• Do It Now.
This is for you boys and girls. It is a
bad habit, the habit of putting off. If you
havesomething that you are to do, do it now;
then it will be done. Thetis one advantage.
If you put it off, very likely you will
forget it and not do it at all; or else—what
tor you is almost as bad—you will not forget,
but keep thinking of it and dreading it, and
so, as it were, be doing it all the time. "The
valiant never tastes death but once ;" never
but once do the alert and active have their
work to do.
I once read of a boy who drooped so in
health that his mother thought she must
have the doctor to see him. The doctor
conld find nothing the matter with him.
But there the fact was: he was pining
away, losing his appetite, creeping about
languidly, and his mother was dustressed.
The doctor was nonplussed,
"What does your son do? Has he any
wo'lNkOI. he has only to bring a palled water
very day from the spring, butthat he
dreads all day long, and does not bring it
until just before dark.
"Have him bring it the first thing in the
moaning," was the doctor's prescription.
• The mother tried it, and the boy got well.
Puttingit offmade the task prey on the boy's
mind. "Dein; it now" relieved him.
Boys an d "do it now.
Couldn't Recollect the Medicine, But.Knew
What it Was For.
A lad entered a chemist's shop, bottle in
hand, and said he wanted ten cents' worth
of "armakymony." The druggest told hin
to repeat the word and aid:'s
"Don't you mean arnica, or ammonia ?"
"1 dunno," was the reply.
"What is it for ?" asked the druggist.
"Can't tell," said the boy, starting slowh
out. • When near the door a bright idea
il-
lu'nined him, and he turned and, asked the
druggist : "If your wife hit you on th.
head With a chair leg, which of them medi-
cines would slot% git to take the evaellin'
down?"
"Arnica."
"Then fill in to cents' worth," replied
the boy, and he gazed lovinglyat a big stick
of licorice as the arnica was being bottled.
Da Mackenzie, it mem, haemade thevery
Sensible detertaination to keep hie mouth
shut on the question of the late German
Emperor. He will publish an official re-
port in good time, and meanwhile will hold
his tongue. This is much. niers like what
might be expected from a man of lYlaeken.
zie's profeedonal stahdieh than the ItnnOnr
that got abroad about hie having blabbed
like a school girl what every consideration
of honour if not of seltintetreet would have
ur ed him th
o ee,pt hi o mseIf roi
ANInaillaaam
PERSONAL
Wilkie Collins IS said to be a ;not plum. -
aliens and prompt correspondent, klin
letters are not brief despatches, but are
of a,'lettering length end carefelly written.
His addrem is stamped in one corner of /Ala
letter -paper, and his monogram, *reed by
a quill, °memento the ether.
L. M. Hedson, a florist of Stunner, W. Tee
recently went on an exploring expedition
near the foot of the gladers of Mount Ta-
coma. as he stooped to pick up a 'none his
revelver fell frora hie pocket, and When ib
struok the ground wat) discharged, The but.
let passed through his neck, killing him in-
stantly. His companions buried him fOrtV
milefrem any settlement.
Mr. Irving has giVen some very malls*
touches to his interpretation of Robert
Maosire, one of which ia to jump tlerough
a window of real glass whioh is ehiveredi
to atoms', the fifty or sixty panes having ts
be reset for eaoh performance. This is not
only realistic, but it is more or less danger-
ous, which adds not a little to the blood-
eurdling pleasure of the audience.
Herr Tisza, the Austrian p.rime minister,
is a Hungarian and was born m1830. Ile is
a very wealthy land -owner, having inherited
a large estate from his father. Ordinarily
Tisza, is not a striking -looking man. He
dresses in moll poor taste, that his tailor
recently put an article in the newspapers
saying that he was not responeible for the
Pr:miner's lack of style. Tisza ' is a tall,,
lean man, with strong feature, bright eyes
and a long, white beard.
The Russia Government has just made
a contraot with M. Kozel', the engineer, for
great irrigation works in the recently aequir-
ed Murghab valley. Kozell was the com-
mander of a battalion of Polish insurgents
ID 1863, and was taken prisoner and sentenc-
ed to death. lie escaped to France and be-
came famous • as an engineer. After the
Franco-German war, in which he fought
against the Germans, he returned to Russia
and was pardoned, but sentenced to serve
as a private in a Cossack regiment for four
• years.
George B. Hazard, a wealthy citizen of
Newport, Rhode Island, finds a great cloak
of solid pleasure in giving away houses and
land to his less wealthy fellow -citizens,.
He recently gave a valuable block on one
of Newport's principal streets to ex -Post-
master Thomas Coggshall. Mr. Hazard ia
seventy-five years,of age and in feeble health,
and he is anxious to dispose of nis property
before he dies. There are any number of
worthy though impecunious citizens of New-
port who are not only willing but anXionia
to have him carry out his intentions, and
not to delay about it either.
Miss Amelie Rives is now Mrs. I. Arm-
strong Chanter, and as her husband has in-
herited some of the money of the:halters (hie
grandfather being john Jacob), she willnot
have to write for money. It was not money,
however, that indueed Miss Rives to write
for publication, as she always had a good/er
allowance of that desirable article. Ur.
Chanter is a man under thirty years of age,
of fine physique and handsome features. He
is a New -Yorker, but spends a great deal ot
his time abroad. It was in Paris that he
met his wife for the first time, and he is
said to have been interested in her from
reading her stories.
PEARLS OF TRUTH.
Let a woman have every virtue under the
sun, if she is slatternly, or even negligent
ID her dress, her merit will be more than
half obscured. If, being young, she is un-
tidy, or, being old, fantastic or slovenly, her
mental qualifications stand a chance of being
passed over with indifference.
The joy of well•doing is preeminently an
individual possession, to be disturbed by
no one. Neither the mistaken kindness of
friends nor the malicious efforts of enemies
can touch it. It is a joy that lives in one
of' those deep recesses of the heart where
no one but ourselves is ever admitted. It.
18 the richest reward of a noble character
and a righteous life, and one of which lie
untoward circumsta.nces- can ever deprive
its possessor.
If a man be of a patient and contented
Emir% moderate in his desires, temperate
in his appetites. diligent and faithful
in his labors, affectionate and generoua
ID his disposition, calm and self-possessed,
interested m good objects for their own
sake, and glad to aid them by his own
efforts, he possessee more of the materi-
als of happiness than many a one with
double his extereal :advantages. It is life
in eta best sense v. nide makes ns happy, and
happiness, in its turn, parishes life.
Children who are honored by their parents'
confidence and accustomed to add their
quota of assistance and to bear their share
of self-saorifice whenever the good of the
family requires it will rarely be guilty of
ingratitude. They are not opposed to, but
in quick sympathy with their parents, not
bemuse they are gifted with specially
sympathic natures or are in any way super-
ior to ordinary young people, but simply
because they have been made sharers with
their parents in the cares and hopes, the re-
sponsibilities and lablers of the family.
A Fashionable Woman's Sin.
Reports from Washington relate that
Miss Katharine Willard, one of Milt. Cleve-
land's most intimate friends and her
guest at the White House last winter,
is getting herself and her late hostess
into social difficulties by accepting a pose
as instructress in a local young ladies'
seminary. Miss Willard went to Washing-
ton last winter shortly after her return
from Berlin, where she has passed several
years studing vocal mnsio. She was quite
famous in the Anglo-American colony of
the German capital as a beauty, a singer
and a conversationalist. She is tall and
slender', and has a pink and 'white com-
plexion, large brown eyes and wavy brown
hair She speaks German and French almost
perfectly. She is oonversant with the
French, English and German literatures,
Many Americans who have attended the
American balls and the thanksgiving din-
ners in Berlin during the last four peers
can testify to her clevernese at repartee,
The sin whioh Washington society lays
at her door is that she is turning her
cleverness. to financial amount for the
benefit of 8, widowed mother in moderate
circumstances.
A Change in Luck.
Megistrate—You are charged with steal
ing chickens, Uncle Rastas.
Uncle Restita—Yes, seh : so I understan's,
Magistrate—Have you ever been arrested
before?
Uncle Rastus—Only wonee bele', you
Etowah. laic always ben bery lucky.
Lace of very delicate texture was made
in Flanders in 1320. Its importation into
Englend Was prOhibited in 1483, but it Wati
used in the Court costumes of Elizehetlha
gm.