Published every Monday cunning at nine o‘clock. NEW YORK, DECEMBER 6, 1873. The SATURDAY JOURNAL is sold by all Newsdenlers lirtlie United States and in the Canadian Dominion. Parties unable £0.0btmn it from A news- denler, or those preferring to have the puper sent direct, by mail, from the publicnlion office, nre supplied at. the following rntes: " Terms to Subscribers: One copy, four months — - - - ~ “ ‘ one your — - - - ~ — 3.00 Two copies, one your — ~ — - - 5.00 In all orders for subscriptions be careful to give address in full—«State, County and Town. The paper is always stopped, promptly, at expiration of subscription. Subscriptions can start with any late number. I Canadian subscribers will hole to pay ‘20 cents extra, to prepay American postnge. , . [3‘ All communications, subscriptions, b0 addressed to BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pumasnxns, 98 WILLIAM 51., Plus Yonx. $1.00 and letters on business, should A BRILLIANT AND ABSORBING Romance of the City’s Twofold Life. In the coming number we shall present the opening chapters of j , . r Gentleman George; on, . PARLOR, PRISON, STREET AND STAGE. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, AUTHOR OF “ WITCHES on NEW YORK,” “MAD DETECTIVE,” “WHITE WITCH,” Em, ETC. I Like a Magnesian Light flashed upon dark places are the revelations which this splendid Serial makes of the Great City’s Unseen Life. From Parlor and Prison the author strips away the mask, and we see people come forth not as they seem to the world to be but as they are, in this Great Babylon of the Western World.‘ Leading from parlor to prison, from the street to the stage, the story is not told merely to in- troduce startling phases of city life, nor to de— pict the ugly or the attractive Side of character that confronts the sharp-eyed observer; the fact, action and persons involved, all contribute to a romance that, in its strangeness of incident and personal relations, in its dramatic intensity and mysterious aSSOCiations, will Delight and Enthrall every Reader. That Mr. Aiken is wonderfully conversant with the hearts, haunts and homes of the City, his every chosen character gives ample evidence. There is, indeed, a Dickens-like power in Gentleman George, the Genteel Night-hawk; Hero, his wife, devoted even tothe Death; The “ Three-docket ” Criminal Lawyer; The “Doctor ” who haunts the tenement streets; The Girl “ Arab” and Doctor’s Protege; The “ Tombs” Courts and “ Tombs” Juries; The Dramatic Star and Her Manager; The Man who Haunts her like a. Shadow; The Judge who is in her Syren toils; and, as to story, the genius of a Wilkie Collins never conjured up any thing more singularly strange or more impenetrable in plot, to the de— nouement. It is a star serial, indeed; and one that no story of the year can vie with in its power to command attention and to arouse the reader’s feelings and sympathies. Our. Arm-Chair. Chat—A young lady who finds both pleasure and profit in regularly reading the SATURDAY JOURNAL, has been fired, by its good lessons, with a spirit of emulation. We quote from her sensible note: “ I don’t aspire to any thing like the laurcls of authorship, but would just like to contribute a short sketch, once in awhile; but, unfortunately being ‘ only a. girl,’ I am afraid to try. How often I feel my dependence! It must be splen- did to be one of the world’s busy workers, and, as one of your lady writers has said, ‘ To be a bee and not a butterfly.’ ” It is splendid to be one of the world’s busy workers. The life of the drone, of the depend- out, of the listless, of the enforced inactive is to be commiserated. The worker, if honorably employed, is a. kind of living, acting song.- “ Labor est 6mm 1” says the philosopher, but to labor is a joyous prayer, and only the worker knows true happiness. The happiness of the idler, of the spendthrift, of the fashionable ex- travagant, is at best a feverish, soulless, unsa- tisfying sense that soon becomes very tasteless and bitter. It is the worker who is, king and queen. One of the saddest fruits of what is called “ independent circumstances,” “wealthy sur- roundings,” is the enforced idleness of the younger members of the household. The young man and young woman of wealthy parents, or of inherited fortunes, are, by the mere fact of their wealth, forbidden to work—to become the bees in the hive where the world’s honey is coined; and their lives drift on as mere drift- wood, aimless, objectless, fruitless. When the young man of wealth, or young woman of for- tune, breaks away from the bondage of riches to enter into a life of usefulness, and employ all the energies in carrying forward some com- mendable enterprise or ambition, then we know that such a worker is thrice happy and person- ally meritorious. We can not of course say to our correspondent write, for we do not say that to any one. So many persons do write for us that, to use one— tenth of what is submitted, is simply impossible. But, as we read all that is offered, no matter from whence it comes, and aim to select the very best, we see no reason why she should not try; and if she Should try and fail to meet our wants or tastes, we see no reason why she should be intimidated from the career which she longs to follow. To be a worker means not only to devote time and labor to your work, but to school yourself in the practical lessons of competition and opposition which places the worker on his or her actual omit, for success. V ——One pleasing indication that the hard times ~éadoes not drive people to abandon their reading, scribers, in all parts of the country, for a four months’ subscription to the JOURNAL. ting up the year into thirds is, we find, very popular, fOr almost any person who wants his favOrite paper can secure the necessary dollar, and “ only one dollar ” for four months’ delight— ful reading certainly is cheaper than wheat at a. dollar abushcl. We are quite content to re- ceive such subscriptions, having learned that in the great majority of cases, the dollar subscri- ber renews very promptly. It gives our clerks some extra trouble, but—it is their business to be troubled. Now is a most excellent time to en- join upon your friends to send in the required dollar. Every friend of the SAT UllDAY JOURNAL must have a friend in whom he or she is espe- cially interested, and to suggest to that friend the good there is in a dollar subscription to the “star of the weeklies,” is a very sure Sign of your own good taste and interest in others. SERMONETTE. V. " If you know what torch to light, Guiding others through the night, ' Light it.” In this world were only as good as‘ you and I would like it to be, you’d not be So pestercd with these effusions o mine ; but, until that good day arrives, I suppose you must ocutinue ’ to bear the affliction with the best grace possi- ble. When there are so many Vices to rout out, it is real good to get a case of genuine dis- interested kindness to comment upon, and it is such a rarity that I'm determined to make the most of it. On a dark and lonely road stands a little cot- tage, in the window of which, every nirrht for many a year, has been placed a lighted3 lamp. Not to keep away robbers, neither—it would be more likely to attract them. It is placed there to guide the traveler, and many a wan- derer has cause to be thankful for its cheerful ray. The owner of that house has never been willing to take one cent of pay for the service she renders, and being a. poor woman, and oil and candles by no means cheap, I really do think her goodness is most disinterested—don’t you ? Don’t you know somebody who is like a. lonely traveler in this world—some one who feels as though he would like you to sympa- thize with him, and make his path of life clearer? Then light the torch of kindness and let him see its glare. Don’t, for mercy’s sake, be so entirely wrapped up in yourselves as to be completely oblivious of those around you. It’s a mean trait in one’s character to be miser- ly of human sympathy. Visit the sick and suffering, but leave your gloomy thoughts and countenances outside the street door; an invalid has more than enough of them himself, to desire more. Go to his couch with cheerful faces and cheerful words, and make his sufferings less acute by your kind and gentle nursing. You ought to mitigate one’s pangs, and not scare him into the grave with dismal crookings, like human ravens. A sick-room is dull, I grant you, but can’t we make it more cheerful? Can’t we illumine it a bit with words of cheer, words of comfort and words of hope? I’m sure God has given us enough to do, but I don’t think we are so eager to do it. An un- lit lantern in a‘ lighthouse at night is not of much use, but let it shed its rays over the broad ocean, and it will avert misery and suf- fering. It is just so with you and me. What good is the power we have to alleviate distress, if we don’t use it in the right manner? I’ve come to the conclusion that we ought to be made to suffer ourselves, aud,just as we get our torch lighted, some one ought to quench it, to see how we would like it ourselves. I think that would soon cause us to open our eyes and hearts to the wants and necessities of others. You get into business, and your friends re- mark, “ I wish you well,” when they could do a great- deal better by buying a large stock of goods from you, and thus showing you that they really and truly had your interests at heart. ’ If the lights of the bar-rooms and gambling dens are brilliant and enticing, make those in your own homes brighter and more enticing. If your children are prone to go into bad com- pany, provide for them only the good kind, and let them meet it at their own homes, and you won’t find them running after their street acquaintances. Make home a pleasant place to them, and they will make it so to you. Let home be the synonym of happiness, and let it be so in reality. 'We mustn’t leave it to others to light the torch; we must light it ourselves, and then we shall be sure that it is lit. When you see a person struggling for either fame or fortune, help him along with a kind word of encouragement, and, if need be, the helping hand. You benefit yourself when you benefit others, because others will aid you as you have aided them. Is it asking too much of you to do all this? Will it cost too much labor? Do you look for a reward? It seems to me that an approving conscience will be re- ward enough. But are we always to look for a reward for every thing we do ? Let us cease being so selfish, and do our good deeds from disinterested motives. We get mad at the fire because it won’t burn, and we puff at it with our mouths, only to have the smoke rush into our eyes; so, when we say hateful things to our neighbors, they retort on us and tell us some pretty plain truths, and make us feel ten times worse. So the best way to get through life pleasantly is not to say spiteful words against others, and they’ll have no chance to retaliate, but if they do give you the blow, let them have the kiss. Such is the opinion of EVE LAWLESS. CITY AND COUNTRY. BRIGHT summer days flitting by, s00n to merge into the“ sore and yellow” of the late autumn leaves, into gray, lowering sky and falling weather and sodden earth, bright sum- mer visitants flown away and the dreary of dreariests come'afrain. To that class of migratory birds, city people in the country, and to country people who have opened their houses to city boarders, the change is sure to come as a relief. There are insuperablc objections to these two classes ever becoming quite reconciled to each other. Oil and water will not mix, and no more will city and country in habit, heart or mind. The overworked farmer’s wife has made an extra effort from some one of the many reasons which lead to these. The front-room carpet has worn threadbare, or the children have flocked about so fast that after their mouths are filled there is not enough left to clothe them in the whole respectable garments “ mo- ther” covets, or there is one bright one who wants an extra term at some higher institution than the little browu school-house of the dis- trict, or, most pitiful case of all the creps have failed, along with sickness and doctor’s bills, and bread itself promises to be scarce without this extra effort. So the farm-house has been This cut- I thrown open, the bare floors scoured snow- white, the muslin curtains starchcd and ironed, and looped back with bits of blue ribbon, and the guests come, bright-pluumged birds to whom all this surrounding plainness is a strange experience, not a pleasant experience withal. They have not been accustomed to bare floors, and straight-backed wooden chairs, and tall, testered bedsteads, and rickety wash- stands, with crooked basin and handleless ewer, of a make which is suggestive of the days of Noah and the Ark. They miss their silver plate and their damask napkins, the china and glass and FrenCh cookery they had in their own luxurious homes. They can’t help turning up their dainty noses at the plain fare. It may be wholesome, and they may have come to the country for the express purpose of diet- ing on new milk and fresh-laid eggs and tender young poultry, but they have pampered tastes, and there is sure to be a revolt within a week against what the farmer’s wife is considering delicate fare. They have no relish for heavy pastry and cakes with clear streaks running through. They object to hot bread for tea, and they expect to find the produce of a metro- politan market in a single kitchen garden. The steak, which is served from butclicrs’ wagons twice a week, is never tender, and if any origi- nal juiciuess pertained to it, it is all lost in the process of hard frying it undergoes. No one ever found that mm act's, a country woman who can broil a. steak. Theynever spice to the cultivated city taste. Accustomed to all the delicacies of the season in advance, through the hot-house forcing system, the city guests can not understand that the country strawberry only ripens in J one, and that peaches do not hang on the trees all the year round. They have a horror of kerosene lamps, and want musketo-bnrs at the windows to keep out the insects which infest the summer nights. They will neither go to bed at dark nor get up at daylight, and the common routine of domestic arrangement in the farm-house is thrown all out of gear. There are extra meals to get, and extra dishes to prepare. Beside her own thrift and ceaseless toil the farmer’s wife considers these city board— ers the merest aimless butterflies. She has no- thing in sympathy with their airs and “ uppish- ness.” A little bitter cuvy creeps into her mind at sight of their leisure, their books, their fine dresses, their soft hands and fine complex- ions. She thinks—“ If I had the smallest bit of their opportunities ”—-—forgetting or not knowing that classes no more than races can become refined and cultivated, assimilated in a day. She reflects that they are able to wait upon themselves as she is to wait on them, for- getting they pay her for that purpose and ex- pect it of her. And so the fall ruins and the the drifting leaves and the coming frosts, which send the boarders flying cityward, are tokens of deep re— lief on either side. The farmer’s wife considers the carpet, the children’s clothes, or Johnny’s schooling dearly won; and the luxury-loving town’s pcOple look about their own comfortable homes with an affection they never felt before, for their gas and their registers, their ranges and water-pipes and bath-rooms, the perfect furnishing of their own parlors and the tempt- ing appearance of their own table, and the knowledge that an experienced cock is in the background to, cater to their tastes. It is al- most worth the experience they have gone through to place so high an appreciation on their own homes. J. D. B. Foalscap Papers. Growing Old. THIS is. a very solemn theme ; let me treat it in a spirit of quiet meditative soberness. - _ Perhaps there is nothing in the world that is so convincing to me that I am growing old as to see some of my notes of hand; they carry me back into the realms of the past. The dates on them—the dates—how eloquently they speak of the earlier days of my manhood! Tears, and ordinarily I am not very sentimen- tal, but the tears climb up-stairs to my eyes, and tumble out whenever one of those early reminders is presented to me ; they affect me so much that I always give them back. I don’t want to keep them. Yes, I am growing old. I began to grow old some years ago, and I think I am making a good job of it. Somehow, of late, every twelve months that passes makes me a year older, for such is the unhappy custom in this country, and will be until the administration makes some radical reforms. . When I look at the coat I wear Iam also re- minded of the flight of time, although it hasn’t been more than thirty years since I first bought it. All things go to convince me that, some years ago, I was twice as young as I am now. I used to be in hopes that I would never get old, but be a young man, and take my grand- children on, my knee and tell them of times and things seventy years back, to their surprise. Yes, I wanted to be twenty-five forever, but such was the fate that hung over young men born when I was; it could not be. Although my eyes are not so good as they used to be, years ago, yet I can see further back now than I ever could in my life, though I can’t see quite so for forward. Each succeeding year snatches a handful of hair out of my head, till there are but few left, and the wig that I wear is beginning to turn gray. I find that I can’t work like I used to. I tire out so quickly, but then I always did that. It never was hard work for me to get tired. Why, oh, why did I let the days of my youth go by ? Indeed I don’t really know why I ever did. It was the most foolish thing that I ever did. How well do I remember the rose-tints of ro- mance that brightened the white mists that vailed the portals of the future that seemed so far off that my aspiring young heart, that beat with high hopes that—that, let’s see, where am I? I’m blest if I know. The years that are past, I look back after them now as I never looked back before, and as to looking back, every thing depends on the di- rection you look in. How many golden opportunities I threw aWay never to have again! There was Polly Pickuls, whose red hair didn’t discount 2. cent of her fifty thousand dollars. But I don’t mourn the loss of opportunities, the decay of hopes, and the baffling of ambi- tion, and the many might-havc-beens solely; the worst is thatI can’t eat beef-steak as I once could; my memory may be for too good, but my teeth have sadly faded. I have them filed and set once a mouth, but at table they don’t remind me of my boyhood’s days. Then the older I get the Closer the rheuma- tism sticks to me. Of late we don’t seem to agree ; it has a disposition to bite me in the shoulders, and even at the risk of making it madder, I will say it is the meanest thing I ever contracted for. My hearing is rather above the average, my ears being very large-hearted. It is quite an ef- fort for me to car a man ask me for money ; and what is strange, a. man can come up and whisper that he owes me ten dollars and wants to pay it, and I can hear it for a whole week if the weather is calm. have my ears repaired. I am growing old, and I am not near so sup- ple as I once was. Icon no more get up on my shoulders and ride, nor stand up on my head with both feet and jump down again, nor jump up high enough to look over an insult, nor stand and jump from one day into another, nor run fast enough to catch up With last week. I am growing old. I have lived long enough to have seen the vanity of human wishes. I used to wish I was wealthy; I have worked hard at that; I have had aplenty of wishes, but no wealth. I was born poor, and that is the worst mistake I ever committed. I have begged to forgive myself, but I never could—I never will. If I had more money now than I knew what to do with, I would know what to do with it. A couple of hundred years ago I Wouldn’t have cared a cent for a dollar, and now I could care a dollar for a cent. Money is the great lever of the world. I always found it was the great leaver of me. When money leaves there is nothing left, but a good deal is gone. So seriously does old age make us re- ect. One of the unhandiest things in growing old is that you can not look forward two or three hundred years for the fulfillment of any hopes like you used to, and you haven’t so long a time to hold a grudge, or to collect interest on your money. - But, some of these times, when they enlarge a. year to twenty-four months, I will only be half as old as I am now, and I long for the day. Sedately yours, WASHINGTON WurrnnonN. I have never yet had to ' .. a Woman 3 World. A Pretty Innovatiom— Women as .“ Km'glusfl—mc Good Time 00ming.—~The Newest Novelties. THE way they do it in Virginia is the tourna- ment. What is this, does the render ask? It is a lot of gayly accoutered “ knights," riding at headlong speed at a suspended ring, which they are to catch on the end of a sword, lance or dagger, and, doing this, to be crowned by the prettiest lady present, or by her whom he shall choose for his,” queen.” This is right gallant sport, and an old-fashioned way of “ donning the ring.” And, not to be outdone by their knights, the Virginia ladies have announced :1 Ladies’ tournament, in Prince George’s County. Of this the editor of a Washington paper thus barrows the feelings of those who can not be in at the joust: » “ Just think of a beautiful girl mounted on the back of a fiery, untamed steed, lance in hand, dash- ing at the ring 2:40 speed, with flowing hair stream- ing back on the breeze, her lovely bosom heaving with excitement like the surging billows of the ocean in a storm, her eyes sparklinglike two of the brightest constellations in the heavens, whilst amid her parted lips vermilion white teeth are flashing like ocean foam. Imagine all this if you can, and then you will have but a faint idea of what this fe- male tournabout promises to be.” “ Imagine all this,” as if that would do any good ! We chronicle the fact of the turnabout as an item in the Woman’s World which goes to prove that the American Woman is not to be outcléne by the American man in any gallant enterprise. It is only a shadow of that coming event—we mean of course, not woman suffrage, but the right of woman to propose, and cry “ agitate—agitate l” Of the “ newest novelties ” in ladies’ work and wear, we have to report: . A new necktie for the ladies is called the “W'indsor,” but whether named after palace, hotel or soap, no one appears to know. A new material for sacques has just been in- troduced here, called seal-skin cloth. It equals in appearance the seal-skin, and is very much cheaper. Seal-skin sacques and jackets will be quite as fashionable this winter as last. There is no change in the cut or style of the garments, a fact ladies who have seal-skin on hand will be glad to know. ‘ Scarlet hose, striped with black, are very fashionable just at present among young ladies of the beau monde. The fashion of wearing colored hosiery is of French origin and some- what questionable. Onc of the new styles of trimming ball and party dresses is with colored yak lace, the manufacture of which has reached perfection. The lace comes in every shade and color, and is a most effective trimming. « Leather jewelry—which attained some popu- larity here a few years ago—has been revived this season, and will, no doubt, become fashion- able. The new styles are odd, and for that reason will find favor in the eyes of many. There is just now a mania. among the ladies for raisod embroidery, and even white silk and satin bridal robes are covered on the skirt with it. It is a very elegant and stylish mode of trimming, and its present popularity will be productive of new designs. ; FUTURE REST. PLENTY of hard work, and a rest now and then, this seems the happiest condition for us here below. Curious, by the way, to read, in an ancient description of the happy dead : “ They rest from their labors ;” and yet: “ They rest not day nor night.” Do you give up the puzzle, and acknowledge yourself beaten by the seeming paradox? The key lies in the word “labors.” They have plenty of occupation, but no toil, no weariness, no labor. The curse of toll is removed, but, certainly not to make way for the curse of entire inaction. How we love to use our powers of mind and body when we are well and in joyous tones and strong! Conceive faculties developed in much vastcr proportion than from childhood into manhood; eternal vigor, majestic powers, untiring energy, unchecked aspiring-s. N o clog, no hindrance, no fettering mortal body—this becomes spiritu- al, and in harmony with the quick and eager and untiring spirit—u helpmeet, and not a. bur- den. m THE WAY TO SUCCEED. FORTUNE, success, fame, position, are never gained but by piously, determinedly, bravely sticking, growing, living to a thing till it is fairly accomplished. In short you must carry a thing through, if you want to be anybody or any thing. No matter if it does cost you the pleasure, the society, the thousand pearly gra- tifications of life. No matter for these. Stick to the thing and carry it through. Believe you were made for the matter, and that no one else can do it. Put forth your whole energies. Be awake, electrify yourself and go forth to the task. Only once learn to carry a thing through in all its completeness and proportion, and you will become a hero. You will think better of yourself; others will think better of you. The world in its very heart admires the stern, de— termined doer. It sees in him its best sight, its brightest object, its richest treasure. Drive right along, then, in whatever you undertake. Consider yourself amply sufficient for the deed. You’ll be successful. NEARLY all beginnings are difficult and poor. At the opening of the hunt the bound limps. Readers and Contributors. To Connnsronnku-rs AND Aurnous.»—.‘lo MSS.recolvod that m not fully prepaid in postage-No MSS. preserved for future orders.—Uunll. able MES. promptly returned only where stumps accompany the inflow". for such return—No correspondence of any nature in permluiblo in ., package marked as “ Book MS.”———MSS. which are imperfect are notued or wanted. In all cases our choice rests first upon merit or fitness; second, upon excellence of MS. as “copy ”; third, length. 0! two MSS. of equal merit we always prefer the shorten—Never write on both sides of it shut. Use Conunercénl Note size paper as most convenient to editor and compo. sitor,tenring ofl‘ en/ch page as it is written, and carefully giving it its folio or page number. ~A rejection by no means implies a. want of merit. Many MSS. unavailable to us are well worthy o! use.——-All experienced and ' lar writers will find us ever ready to gin their ofl'eringl early Ittcntion... Correspondean must look to this column for nll infornmtlon in regard to contributions. We can not write letters except in speclul cases. V We accept “Indian Summerg“ “Life‘s Chungcs;" “The Vigilance Committee:” “A Woman-Hater;" “ Treasures ;" “Won by Love ;” “Gold for Dross;“ “A Ride for Life:" “How Cora. went to Europe;" “Faithz” “The Mission of Lovcz" “A Splendid Match;” “The Loves of a Year;” “ How a Race was = Lost." And say no to “ Vengeance Bafliedz" “ Aunt B.'e Consinf‘ “The Runner's Farewell :" “The Latin" ~“(Jonmge;” “Sarah’s Loverz" “Sticklights;” “The Drunksrd;" “ The Phantom Hand;” “The Muddicd Stream;" “A Memento;”'“John, the Guide;" “Al- most LOet;” “ The Maid of the Mich," “A Misan- thrope’s Mistake ;” “ The Last Term at School ;" “A Puppy.” , ' Again we repent to authors : we will not return MSS. at our own charge. STARLIGHT. Write to Horsmau, 100 William St.,N. Y. No Nuts. Oll Coomes is the author‘s correct name. GEO. W. Your rhyme is decidedly crude-hence we say no. V R. J. McG. We must say the same to you as to Geo. W. R. IRVINE. We turn your letter over to 3. Games' dealer for answer. Jon. Beadle‘s DIME BOOK or- Errqunrrn is what you want. M. 11., Chicago. The'etory named is not in print and i will not be republished. , J. G. W. The numbers containing “ Death Notch " will cost you 72 cents. CHAS. F. H. There are no Dime Biographies of the characters named. Annirrous GIRL. Yes, any person is at liberty to ask questions for this department to answer. FASHIONABLE. Miss is the proper term of address for an unmarried lady. The word “ moiam” is merely a. contraction of madame. The term madam is some times used in addressing a maid, but. it really is synony. mous with madame. which is the address of a married woman or widow. The want of a good term of addreu for an unmarried woman has led to the custom of soy- ing, “Dear Madam," in writing to her, but, in strict propriety, she is not ma dame—Carleton, we believe, publishes a book on dancing. INFATUATED READER. Rowing is the best exercise for strengthening the musclesol' the arm and chest. Lifting dead weights is not a good exercise—the " doc; tors ” to the contrary. To develop muscle and vigor you want your muscles to play freely and to assume all posi- tions of tension. A more dead strain is often exceed- ingly injurious to muscles and blood—vessels. The In- diun club exercise is very good; so are dumb—bells.— The “ Specter Barque ” runs through twenty-one num~ hers: price six cents each. ARTY. Pray do not learn to smoke or chew tobacco. Either habit is deplored even by those who use the weed. It is fashionable, we know, to smoke, but it is :1 very useless, expensive and disagreeable practice, never- theless. A boy who keeps his month free from bad words and tobacco is almost sure to become a good man. So, try and discourage all boys from learning to smoke. SUFFER AND GROWL. We know of no cure for rheu- matism. Dio Lewis says: rub the afflicted part, twice a (lay, with hair gloves on the hands, is a very excellent remedy, but we should say the skin would suffer with more than one or two such applications. The fact is any friction is good. and the magnetism of a strong, nervous hand is equally good. The main thing is not to be exposed to damp; therefore, wear flannel of sub- stantial thickness next to the skin. Esenx COUNTY. uecu Victoria comes of a long-lived race. Her grandfat er. George III., died in his 60th year of reign as king, the longest reign in English his- tory. He was eighty-one years, seven months and six- teen days old when be deported this life, and the same number of years, months and days vouchsafed to Queen Victoria. would cause her death to fall on the 4th of February, 1901. George I. died at sixty-seven, George II. at seventy-seven, George III. at eighty-two, George 1V. ; at sixty-eight. and William IV. at seventy-two. May her reign be as long, is, we are sure, the wish of every patriotic Englishman. She certainly is one of the best sovereigns the kingdom ever had. Surnnm. We have known many cases where a. felon or n “ run-around” was cured. In regard to the felon. that most dreaded form of active ulceration, we have this treatment to suggest; As soon as its coming is discovered, take some spirits of turpentine in a cup, dip the finger in it, and then hold the hand near a hot fire till dry; then dip it in again and repeat for fifteen minutes, or until the pain ceases. The next day, with a sharp knife. pare off the thick skin, and you will find something like a honeycomb fillcd with clear water; open the cells and the felon‘is gone. If the felon is too for advanced for turpentine, oil of origanum, treated in the some way, will cure. If too for advanced for either to cure, the felon will still be benefited, as it will be less painful. Never draw it. YOUNG HOUSEKEEPER. Spoons and cups are, usually; of specific sizes and hold proportionate quantities. For instance: sixteen large tablespoonfuls are half a pint; eight large tablespoonfuls are one gill ; four large table- spoonfuls are half a gill; two gills are a half-pint; a common-sized tumbler holds half a pint; a common- sized wineglass is half a gill; a teacup is one gill; a large wineglcss is two ounces; :1 teaspoonful is one- eight of an ounce; forty drops equal to one teaspoon- ful: four teaspoonfuls equal one tablespoonful. Pre- serve this and you will always have at. command a good director in household measures. The teaspoon and tablespoon mentioned are the full—sized spoon~nol the dessert spoon. which holds two tenspoonfnls; nor the preserve spoon, which holds only two-thirds of ates- spoouful. Then the coffee-cup is equal to two tea-cups. It is a good plan. after you have tested a given cup or spoon, to preserve it for measuring purposes. NOBLE. The title of Mqiestx/ originated with the Ger- mans; but our modern tides first began in the court of Constantine. H. K. It is the Persian custom, not the Greek. to give a name to each day in the month, as we do to the days of the week. MORDECAI. In speaking of the “horse—power” of a steam-engine, it is estimated as follows: by the state» ment of Desagulier the force of a horse moves 44,000 pounds one foot per minute, and hence an engine of mo horse-power equals 44,000 multiplied by 100,less one- fourth deducted for loss by friction in the engine. L. A. PAnDon. The hight of man is estimated as fol- iowe : In Lapland and Labrador, 4 to 5 feet: in Europe and Asia, 5}; to 6% feet: in Africa and America, 5 to‘o' feet ; and in Patagonia, 6 to 81/4 feet, with an average of 7 feet. The Patagonians as a race are the largest people in the world : and we should not wondc‘r at all if, in the progress of discovery in science, it was ascertained that the race is the literal descendants of the giants of old- ANDREW JOHNSON. The bones of all flying birds you will find are hollow, and instead of containing marrow are filled with air. Were they filled with marrow the body Would be too heavy to fly. If a man‘s bones could become air~chambers his locomotion in the air would be merely a question of wings. MAnsnnN. The liquid virus of vipers and other pols sonous reptiles is of a yellow hue, and when evaporated leaves It brownish substance like gum-arabic. The poi- son is secreted in two small Vessels, and communicates by a tube with the fangs. It is tasteless, but when touched to the tongue causes a feeling of numbness. and if taken into the stomach and circulating system causes death, even killing the reptile if he swallows his own poison, as he sometimes does. LAWTON. The firefly is a native of the United States, Mexico and South America, and the little creatures shine with such a strong phosphoric glow, that a persoq] can see to read by placing half a dozen upon a page 0 ordinary print. T e light continues even after the death of the fly. for a brief period. How it is produced is not yet satisfactorily explained. STUDENT. Yes; the eagle has been known to destroy an ox, andin Norway they do so by diving into the sea and wetting themselves thoroughly, after which they roll in the loosesand until covored therewith, when tpg light on the head of an ox and shake their wings bodies until his eyes are filled with sand, and then they can easily overcome his strength and dispatch him. This may be called eagle rascality—it is literally throw- ing dust in the eyes to secure an advantage. HUNTER. Wild ducks migrating southward, fly at an average speed of 90 miles per hour ; swallows fly faster, and the swift is said to be {one to make 200 miles in an hour. The migrations of birds is a very singular {act in their history. JACOB PHILLIPS. Fish are frequently very long-lived. for pike and carp have been identified by marks which have been ploCcd on them 200 years before. and the cit. cumstances of the marks have been handed down from father to son in fishing communities. SEAMAN. It is asserted that the Nautilus first taught the art of sailing to mankind, for in sailing it stretchcs out two of its arms, holding a membrane to act as a sml. The nautilus is in the East called the argonaut—so were the earliest navigators. 32%“ Unanswered questions on hand will appea' 5“ next week. the great number of dollars sent in by sub— 1") 4.- ' A. A I d—-——-~ E43.