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Published every Monday morning at nine o‘clock. ,

NEW YORK, OCTOBER 17, 1874.

 

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ber.
Canadian subscribers will have to pay 20 cents extra,to prepay
American postage. . _
All communications, subscriptions, and letters on business,
in ld b addressed to
a o“ a BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pususunns,
98 WILLIAM 81.. NEW YORK.

 

 

.ALBERT W. AIKEN’S

INJUN DICK,

the fourth romance of the noted Dick Talbot
Series, is now in the hands of artists for illus—
tration. The series is certainly a most rc—
markable exposition Of this fierce, wild, strange,
peculiar life, and the last of the stories, now
announced, is the fit climax to what will here—
after stand as an exceptional success in the
world of American romance.

SOON TO AP PEAR!

An exquisite story of City Life in Garrets and
Gilded Homes, .
BY MRS. E. F. ELL lt‘T.

A fascinating, life—real, deeply-affecting ro—
mance, enlisting the noted author’s finest pow-
ers and deepest sympathies. With a poor sew—
ing—girl for heroine, she develops a strange his~
tory—one of the many of which this Great
City is so full!

The "Amman.

N0 boy who “plays out ” during the even—
ing and night is safe. He is as sure to run in—
to bad company and to get into bad habits as
water is to run down hill. The night is too
propitious for mischief, and too alluring in its
temptations to make any boy then safe who is
not well cared for by some Older and very wise
companion. As a rule, therefore, all boys who
are good, and hope to remain so, will not seek
the streets at night. For evening amusement,
arrange readings, charades, chess or backgam-
mon, visitations at home, and you will be sur-
prised at the pleasure derived. Invite your
young friends of both sexes to participate, and
you’ll quickly learn hOW coarse and unsatisfac-
tory are street pleasures compared with those
at home.

 

WHEN a vice becomes so all-pervading that
men can boldly pronounce it a virtue, it
makes an issue at once on the relative characv
ter of vice and virtue—if, indeed, they are not

, convertible terms. The late “combinations”
‘ in the liquor trade for furthering the interests

of liquor-dealers and manufacturers, have re—
sulted in the publication of weekly journals to
fight the temperance cause 3 and, casting aside
all disguise, these organs now, for the first
time in the history of the awful traflic, boldly
avow the righteousness of the traffic and call
for its protection by legislation!

This is a day of surprises, and sensations,
and men are not easily thrown from their
equainmity, but we imagine the sober—minded
citizen is not yet prepared for this new and
defiant attitude of the liquor interest.

One of their journals, called The People,
adverting to the tremendous consumption of
liquor in England, France, Germany and the
United States, says:

“The value of this immense comsumption in
the four countries named cannot be much less
than $2,000,000,000, and, with the money invest-
ed in its production and manufacture, it certain-
ly exceeds $4,000,000,000. Look at these stupen-
dous fio'ures, and then ponder over the puny cf-
forts o crack-brained moralists to suppress such
a trade.” ‘ .

“ Crack~brained moralists!” expresses the
new situation: four billion dollars versus the
“ moralists.” Are they prepared for the issue?

 

ANOTHER school journal just added to the
list of “educational” papers is the Albany
School Bulletin. It evidently has work be-
fore it if it tells the truth about New York
teachers. Jonathan Tenny, Deputy State
School Superintendent, states that, during his
labors as Institute principal, he uniformly
gave out to teachers test lessons in spelling
with results that will certainly surprise those
who believe that teachers are well taught.
The table is given by counties, exhibiting the
per centage of teachers who failed to spell the
list-words correctly, and the average in de-
fault, in eighteen counties, was 42 per cent!

As the list comprised such common words as
separate, confectionery, indelible, professor,
especially, inflammatory, vaccination, ventila-
tion, parallel, liquify, plaguy, vying, traffick—
er, punctilious, bilious, salable, Obeisance, po-
mace, surcingle, shrubbery, privilege, occur—
rence, supersede, corroboration, ferule, fiery,
harelip, inveigle,‘ ignitiblc, lien, mattress, mor-
tise, goal, gavits, etc., etc., we may infer one
Of two things—either that the New York
schools “graduate” a. good many dunces, or
else that teachers, with or without a diploma,
are shockingly indifferent to the language they
speak. What do the teachers of the West say
to this exhibit? Can they show a better re—
cord? We should hope so.

 

Sunshiflljapers.

A R1de on an Engine.

THE clatter, clatter, rumble, rumble, and
sense and jar of swift progress, of which one—
upon a railroad train—is vaguely conscious
even during sleep, suddenly ceased and I sat
upright. Pushing back the hood of my mantel
I peered out into the darkness. Had we ar-
rived at M———-—? Presently the hoarse cry of a
brakeman warned me to “ Change cars!”
Doubts thus settled, I gathered together my
packages——what woman is not always supplied
with theml—and went out into the darkness,
rendered doubly intense by the great glare of
red that burned along one track. I walked in«
to the red light, then out again into darkness,
and then strong hands grasped me and helped
me to a. platform ‘

I knew it was Jones. Jones was the clu—
ductor. I wish his name was something else.

euphonious nor distinctive; but since he insists
upon being known as Jones why should I de~
murxsimply because Edward De La. Estrange
or Percy St. Leger would look prettier in
print? However, what Jones lacks in name he
makes up in point and quality of corporeal
substance and genuine good-naturedness. My
knowledge of this fact was what led me to say,
when I presented my ticket, as he came through
the dimly-lighted, nearly—deserted car that was
flying along through the darkness:

“ I would like a ride upon the engine.”

“Would you,” said that same Jones, who,
unlike that other one of his family of the
“ Stanislaus,” has never been immortalized in
rhyme by “ Truthful James,” but deserves to
be; “would you? Then you Shall! I’ll put
you on at the next station.”

“ Albertson’s!” A glimmer of light appears
at the car—door, and I go out to the lantern
that hangs upon Jones’ arm. I am lifted and
pulled upward into darkness, a heated atmo-
sphere, and close contiguity to a raging fire.

A moment more and We are rattling along
the road at no mean rate. The wind rushes
cool and fresh against me from the Open win-
dow at my side, and catching my mantel al—
most whirls it away. The engineer, whom I
can just discern through the darkness, kindly
asks me if I desire more air, and puts slightly
ajar the window in front. Then he stands by
my side and tells many interesting things
about engines, and talks well; from which
fact, deductions and sermonizings being in my
line, I deduce this conclusion:

If people would talk only of those subjects
with which they are perfectly familiar, instead
of appearing ashamed to know anything con-
cerning the very pursuits which they should
understand fully, they would often interest,
instruct and please persons who would other.
wise pronounce them unmitigated bores.

This engineer talked of what he knew, and
of what was full of interest to him, and thus
interested his passenger. I was prepared to
think well of him and that he was pleasant-
faced before I saw him. Though he stood near
me—his face even with my shoulder where I
was perched upon a high seat, and only a. shaft
of machinery separating us—I could only see
him when with clanking chains the great door
of the furnace was swung wide, and the stoker
heaped coal upon the molten, scarlet mass
within.

Occasionally fiery showers fell about us, and
the bell swung to and fro with its warning.
Away in front was densest darkness, into
which a red path of light Swept swift and vivid,
illuminating, momentarily, cliffs and over—
hanging rocks and thick forests, but always
with blackness and uncertainty ahead. There
might be fair scenes there, or dark defiles.
danger and death. We could not know until
the red light swept over them. Then must
life or death depend upon the firm hands, the
true heart of the man who controls the engine.

How it rattles, and bounds, and flings itself
along the track, like some fierce, life-endowed
creature! Only a thing of man’s construction,
subsersive to man’s will, after all! Great the
maker, wonderful the creation of his genius
and labor—«symbolizing infinitely well the life
of man himself. What is the life of every
human being but an engine! Does not life,
like this great monster plunging along this
iron road, “ speed from us over like a bird on
the wing?”

List to the echoes as we fly over these broad
meadowsl—light, and swift, and circling far
away—echoes of happy words and gay laugh-
ter scattered along the flowery less of life.
Now we rush between rocky walls; and the
echoes that reverberate in thunder tones are
of years whpn “life was real, life was ear-
nest” and full of toil and discouragements and
weariness. Ever ahead is the darkness and
uncertainty of the future; ever we are bound-
ing over tddays toward unknown to—morrows;
over the road of life a red light ever falls, the
vivid, God-given one of conscience ;—-ours the
duty to keep it clearly burning, that it may
show dangers ahead.

Dangers ahead! Trials and temptations sore!
Conscience shows them, and, like the whistle
of the engine, the “still, small voice ” warns—
“down breaks!”

Now, I—will-power, life’s most glorious gift,
stand firm at the post; for upon you, oh en~
gineer! the soul’s safety depends; perhaps the
safety of many souls!

Down breaks! Stop short when deceit, dis-
sipation, dishonor, lie ahead! Reverse the en—
gine! Save, unto an eternally radiant future,
the soul you carry! But when the track is
clear, the path is right, keep the heart—fire
glowing brightly, and with steady hands and
head and aim—Go ahead!

A PARSON’S DAUGHTER.

 

AMONG THE PROVERBS.

NUMBER TWENTY—TWO.

“ Happy the man to whom Heaven hath given a
morsel of bread without laying him under obli-
gation to any but Heaven itself. ’

YOU have, doubtless, read the story of the
man who saved another’s life, and who was
rewarded for so doing by receiving a thousand
dollars, and who was, ever after, dunning his
victim for money, always making the same
plea: “Remember I saved your life.” The
matter went on until the poor man who had
been saved from a. watery grave sold one
thing and another to meet the insatiable de-
mand of his proserver, but at last his cash and
his patience gave out at the same time, and he
was forced to exclaim, “The next time you
see me drowning, be kind enough not to save
me.”

That was a pretty good story, even if it

wasn’t true, but there are parallel cases to it

everywhere, and I can tell you of one: A

young friend of mine who had lost quite a lit-

tle sum of money in business, and being some-
what deficient in greenbacks, stayed a little
while with some friends who showed him some
attentions by purchasing a few articles and
mending his clothes for him—neighborly ac-
tions such as one ought to show to another,
but something put these good friends out of
temper, and then you ought to have heard the
tirade! It was a. regular Vesuvius. “ I guess
you’ll know where to go when you want any
more clothes mended or paper collars bought.

You do not consider the obligations you are

under to us.”

Supposing he had been under these same

obligations, was that any reason they should

bring it all up and spit their venom upon him?

Did it show a Christianlike spirit? Perhaps

you may imagine they had good cause for what

they did. I don’t think so. I know both par-
ties, and can judge for myself. I am very
well aware that in all quarrelings and bicker
ings there are faults on both sides, yet I do not
think there was any cause for such a bitter

outburst. One of the family had written on a

book that my friend valued highly, as it was

the gift of one since dead, and he slightly re-
monstrated thereat. I would have done the
same—wouldn’t you?

It is hard enough to receive the charities of

 

Jones, like Brown and John Smith, is neither

v

 

for what we have to eat and to wear, without
being eternally reminded Of them, and making
us feel as though we had rather starve than
receive one penny from such beings.

If you place a person in a high position of
life, does it add anything to your dignity of
character by assuring him that, if it had not
been for you and your influence, he never
would have been where he now is? Pshaw!
When I hear people talk in that strain, I feel
as though I’d like to tell Brother Tom to put
on his heavy boots and kick some individuals.

If, I were a man, and could fight my way
through the world, I would do it. I would
ask no favors of any one. I would get all the
help I could from Heaven, for I don’t believe
Heaven would be continually telling me of all
the blessings I had received from it.

Oh, what a mean and despicable spirit it
does show in one to treasure up all the little
acts done and then overwhelm you with a
cataract of encomiums of their own bounty!
It just spoils all their goodness. What they
may have accomplished goes for naught; they
place themselves in a most contemptible light,
and, instead of gaining man’s good will, they
are more likely—and deservedly so—to be-
come objects of scorn and detestation.

I should think a person’s gratitude was suf-
ficient compensation for doing an act of kind—
ness, although it does not appear to be so in
some persons’ estimation. All the gratitude in
the world, all the money you may heap on
them, does not seem to satisfy them one-half
so much as the pleasure they will experience
in being enabled to brag about all the good
they have accomplished in your behalf, and
prove to you that you are beholden to them
for all your prosperity. If they talked so to
me, I’d tell them to go to Guinea, and then to
myself I’d inwardly say, “Happy the man to
‘whom Heaven hath given a morsel of bread
without laying him under obligation to any
but Heaven itself.” EVE LAWLESS.

 

“ NO TIME."

 

“ I HAVE no time I can call my own, not
one minute of the day. I haven’t the knack“
of getting through with my work, somehow.
I’m sure that I’m busy early and late, and yet
I am always pushed; I have no time for any-
thing outside of the regular routine.”

Thus says Mrs. Smith, one of those ever—busy
matrons her own words describe, in one of the
few breathing—moments she ever takes, drop—
ping into a rocker and swaying back and forth
half a dozen times before she stretches out her
hand and takes up the lace—edged ruffh'ng in
which she is putting laborious stiches.

"‘ For Susie’s new aprons,” she eXplains.
“It seems almost a. waste of time to put so
much work upon anything meant for that
rough child, more careless than you can ima-
gine, but they have such an unfinished look
without, and I am determined, while I keep
up at all, my children shall look as well as
other people’s.”

Then the flushed, tired face is bent over the
lace and cambric, and the flying fingers set the
minute stitches joining the two, which even
the machine in the corner cannot accomplish,
and Mrs. Smith is all unconscious that she has
exposed the leak by which all that might have
been her leisure is frittered away. The inof-
fensive sewing-machine, which Mr. Smith pro-

 

-the mountain of troubles which many would

vided, years ago, in the hope, poor man! that
the complaint, “No time,” which had grown

husband’s tastps and pursuits, and better fit
herself to be an appreciative helpmate; no
time to beautify their home by little womanly
touches which mere money cannot buy; no
time to train a graceful vine over a mirror, to
have glasses of hyacinths blooming upon the
mantels, or geraniums and heliotrope in the
windows; no time to love brightness and
beauty, and feel life a blessed boon; no time
for anything but one endless treadmill; no ex-
perience beyond being “so tired” always; no
expectation except to lay down the burden
some day; to enter eternity with no better
preparation than that reluctant awe conse—
quent upon having had “ no time ” here.
J. D. B.

 

Foolscap Papers.
Wedding Gifts.

IT has been my good fortune to celebrate
many wedding—days. I do not want it under-
stood that it has been my good fortune to have
been married more than once, by any means;
not so, indeed. I never was married but once.
Once is Often a thousand times too much, but
in this case I am happy to say that it was just
enough. I never want to get married again.
I say this because I don’t want to, for our mar-
riage though on a. small scale has been roses—~—
roses, cabbages and potatoes all the way, and
my wife has thought a good deal of her hus-
v band, and her husband thought a good deal of
his wife. If we ever had any quarrels we al-
ways got over them one way or another.

While our marriage was presided over by
that mythological young lady called the Genius
of Happiness, it had nothing whatever to do
with the mythological gentleman called Mam—
mon. Indeed, my wife would scorn the in-
sinuation that she married me for my money;
she would tell you forcibly and plainly that I
hadn’t a cent when she married me, (she al-
ways maintains that I didn’t marry her), and
I have got it yet. N o, no, it was not a. money-
match, by any means.

Among the wedding presents displayed on
that occasion the royal necklace marked,
“ From Queen Victoria,” was absent, and its
place was occupied by a tub, inscribed, “From
Mother.”

The set of silver service from the President
would have taken the place of the washboard
inscribed, ‘ ‘ From Mother,” if the set had come.

The Emperor of Russia had a regal brooch
made, full of diamonds, and of the most exqui-
site design, but as he intended it for his own
wife, its place was supplied by a crock of soft-
soap inscribed, “ From Mother.”

There was room enough on the table, and
barely that, for a most elaborate China tea—set
from the King of Belgium, but it wasn’t there,
and in its place stood a wash~boilen

The Express Company failing to deliver an
elegantly wrought gold chain manufactured by
order of the Emp. of Austria, 8. clothes-line of
the most elaborate length filled its place.

At our wooden wedding I received a very
richly-finished saw-buck in the rough from the
Secretary of State, with directions for using,
accompanied by a wood—box in which I was
directed to throw the wood when sawed.
Those articles were productive, he wrote, of
the health and long life which he wished me.

One load of wood quite knotty.

One box Of wood matches.

One saw-log.

 

so familiar to his ears, might be abated, has
been made the instrument of an increased bur-
den. With it has been introduced the milling
and tucking and plaiting and braiding, all the
elaborate extravagance of adornment in dress
needful to keep the children locking “as well
as other people’s,” and thereby the weekly
laundering has increased fourfold.

And as with this, so with other labor—saving
machines: not one has been brought into use
in that household except to abuse the end it
was meant to consummate.

There are excellent dinners served up there.
Roasts arrived at the proper degree of brown-
ness, everything done to a turn, desserts of
flaky pastry and enticing, rich dyspeptic cake,
and dishes of “ such stufl’s as dreams are made
of,” and Mrs. Smith, excellent housekeeper!
superintends all which her own hands do not
themselves prepare.

Little wonder that when Mr. Smith, with
the friends he likes to gather about him, makes
an appearance, she is flurried, constrained, and
painfully ill at ease after the ceaseless hurry
in her day’s work, the pitched-on dressing af-
terward, sick in body and worn out in mind
from having “no moment to call her own,”
not in that day simply, but through a. long
stretch of arid weeks and months past. NO
wonder that when tickets for the Philharmonic
are afterward produced, her refusal to attend,
not always unaccompanied by a sigh, perhaps,
is accepted as a matter of course. She has
“no time,” poor woman, to forget self and

call trifles, piled upon her own head——to leave
behind her for an hour that oppressive round
where only the “ earth, earthy ” can be recog—
nized, no time to be wafted away upon strains
of angelic sweetness, to be lifted up by them
from the shallow groove where her life is set,
to be cheered and ennobled by them, to find
herself a better woman through one of those
refining influences toward which the nobler
nature of all mankind instinctively turns.

Mr. Smith, with his friends, goes to the
Philharmonic, and the breach of sympathy
growing gradually between them is widened
by an atom. Mrs. Smith takes up her eternal
stitching, an embroidered jacket for Tommy
this time, which must be done for the school
excursion to-morrow; as if Master Tom will
have either remembrance or regard for em-
broidery when he chases butterflies over the
free green sward to-morrow, or dabbles knee-
deep in the brooks, and tosses up his hat and
halloes with all the enthusiasm of a born—and
bred city boy let loose from dusty pavements
and a. watchful mother’s care! There are un—
cut magazines upon the table; it is long since
the daily papers have been there—they are all
left on a. certain desk down-town, and Mr.
Smith is wont to treat the Woman Question
with a contemptuous indifference which de—
clares louder than words his opinion of the
relative capacity of the sexes.

It is always ungrateful to search out a fault
without suggesting a remedy, but here the last
seems obvious when once the leak is discover-
ed and a resolution applied to stopping it.

If Mrs. Smith would dispense with rufl‘les,
tucks and embroidery; if her labor—saving ma—-
chinery were applied to the end it is meant to
attain; if she trusted more to her cook and
laid greater stress upon personal endowments
than a pampered appetite; if she would so or-
der her household affairs that some regularity
should attend each regular task; if the time
thus saved were resolutely taken as her own
moments for improvement and recreation,
more would be gained than at first thought
will seem possible. Gone would be that “no
time ” which is oppressive to all about her—no
time to refresh the girlish graces p: ematurcly

 

another, to be beholden to any one, save God,

  

 

swept away; no time to i orm herself of her

 

One wooden man. , r -
One wooden scaffold, by an ardent admirer.
One highly~chased fence—post.

One box of second-hand clothes—pins, full—
jeweled.

Onc clothes-horse without a saddle; with in-
structions how to break it, in case I got mad at
it. Thoroughbred.

One load of chips.

At our tin wedding there was no “ tin ”‘pre-
sented that came under the common accepta-
tion of the term. There was a prolific absence
of that. Among the tin articles I may men-
tion:

One tin whistle.

Several tin cups, not gold—plated.

One highly—embossed tin rat-trap.

One tin rattle—box, back action, seven octave
arrangement.

One tin pint measure with directions to fill
and empty it only at times—the times to be
regulated by myself.

At my brass wedding, one friend of long
standing wrote stating he was under the im-
pression I wasn’t in any immediate need Of
any presents in the brass line.

One old friend sent me a very nice gift of
brass cheeks, but I had no use for them.

I got also several brass buttons, but no two
alike. I wear them on the vest that my wife
made out of my old coat.

One paper Of brass pins, without diamond
sets.

At my iron wedding, I was the fortunate re—
cipient of several baskets full of old iron of
great variety and of antique shapes. Among
the lot were: =

One lame dog—iron, unmuzzled.

Three old nails.

One griddle on two legs.

One heavily—ironed handkerchief.

One pair of handcufis.

Two old horse-shoes for good—luck.

One stove, badly stove. .

One section of aged stove-pipe, which was
warranted never to smoke.

At my silver wedding I received one silver—
plated half-dollar—very rich, thoughnot at all
rare.

One silver—leaf poplar tree.

One silver note—taken from a silver voice.

One elaborate five-cent-piece, with pin.

At my glass wedding I received:

One glass of brandy.

One other glass.

One looking—glass full.

One goblet Of sherry—I was the gobbler.

One magnifying-glass. This, you can ima~
gine, was pretty full—running over.

One glass of beer.

One dose of pounded glass.

One set of glass eyes.

One Mike-somebody — yes, mikeroscope to
look at my money with.

One quart bottle, very empty.

One piece of glass in my hand.

One sapphire pin—all glass.

At my golden wedding I received:

One gold-fish, since deceased.

One golden lock—~of hair.

Of gold coin I received the vast sum of 000,-
000,000,000,000,000,000—-— But I am out of
breath; no other figures are powerful enough
to express the amount.

My diamond wedding was a grand affair. I
was presented on that delightful occasion
with:

Seven brilliant jacks of diamonds.

One ace of diamonds.

One ten—spot of diamonds, and other dia-
monds in proportion.

My paregoric weddings have been very fine
and numerous. The next Annie-ver—Sarah of
my marriage I intend to be a. greenback wed—

Headers arflfinmrihutors.

To Connnsronnnwrs AND Amnens.—-No MSS. received that are
not fully prepaid in pOStRZG.—NO MSS. preserved for future orders.—
Unuvailnble MSS. promptly returned only where stamps accompany
the lncloeure,for such returns—No correspondence of any nntnre is
permissible in npnckage marked us “Book MS."——M88.which are
imperfect are not need or wanted. In I“ cases our choice rests first
upon merit or fitness; second, upon excellence of MS. a “copy”;
third, length. 0f two 3185. of equal merit we nlwsyl prefer the
shorten—Never write on both sides of a sheet. Use Commercial
Note size paper as most convenient to editor and compositor. touring
ofl each page as it is written, and carefully giving it its lolioor page
number.-—A rejection by no means implies a want of merit. Mmiy
MSS. unavailable to us are well worthy of use.—-All experienced and
populll’ writers will find us ever ready to give their offerings early at-
tention.—Corroepondentl must look to this column {or all information
in regard to contributions. We can not write letters exceptln special
cases.

We must decline: “ Alone;” “ The Pirate‘s Last
Prize;" "‘ The Mad Treppetz” “Why He Never
Merriedz” “ Perils of the Deep;“ “ An Idyl of an
April Day;" “ Visitor from Mt. Erin;“ “' The Exe-
cution in Effig ;” “ Editor‘s Soliloquyg” “ How to
Write for the ress;” “ How to Get Along;" “ Au-
tumn;" “ Prodigal Son.”

BEN. A. P., Heal-lam, writes: “ I see a story in a
juvenile paper so like in title the one you have say--
oral times announced that several boys think it is
the same story. Will you tell me about it, as it is
by the same author as your story? I say it is 3
dodge to profit by your title, and is meant to de-
ceive the readers of popular stories. Am I right or
not ‘2” Right, of course.

MISS M. A. J. We can not use the matter sent.
Remit it to some “ religious ” paper.

J. M. J. You evidently are not qualified by edu-
cation to write for the press.

E. A. Y. Can’t use MS. Editors do not prefer to
have authors fix their own price on MSS.

EDNA D. The lady referred to Is single. You can
address her through this office.

FRED. H. L. “ Lightning J O ” is to appear in the
Pocket Novel series. See reply to Percy G.

IGNORAMUS. Answer to gout first question will be
given in “ Letter Box.” our chirography is too
angular. It lacks ease and freedom.

BIGGER. The peers for the localit named (cen-
tral Pennsylvania) are Seckel, Bart ett, Duchesse
D‘Angouleme, Flemish Beauty, Sheldon and Bonus
do Jersey.

MISS A. P. PRESTON. We certainly do not ap-
prove of a. musical education unless there is re-
markable talent for music. Only such talent stands
any chance of success.

WISEHEAD wants to be wiser, and asks to be in-
formed upon the vnrious “ points ” of Tyndall’s re-
cent declarations about the relations of science and
religious faith. We answer-read his lecture and
judge for yourself.

COUNTRY BOY writes, that he don’t think Chicago
boy’s running jump of eighteen feet much of a. feat,
apd adds: “ um mg for sgort, one day, and taking
a. run of twenty’ ve feet, cleared eighteen feet
six inches, actual measurement, and think, with
practice, I can beat that. How far does our Chica-
go jum ist run?" As race-horses are yearly gain-
ing on t eir previous wonderful exploits, we see no
reason why men should not do likewise.

DANBURY INQUISITIVE. All inflammation and pu-
trefection are due to the presence of minute ani-
mal life, whose germs, it is so well known, are ex-
istent in the air. Hence, when a wound is given,
close it instantly against the a. proach of these
agents. Physicians have recent y received some
extraordinary accessions to their knowledge on this
point, and are now greatly modifying their treat-
ment of acres, wounds, inflammation, etc.

MISS INDUSTRY, Vineland. If, in handling any
kind of fruit, in preserving it, you have stained the
hands, wash them in clear water, wipe them lightly
and while they are yet moist, strike a match and
shut your hands around it so as to catch the smoke
and the stains will disappear.

PHILIP B. N. The course of study in colleges
does not very much. There is little chance for va-
riation. To ac uire knowledge in any given direc-
tion compels t e‘studg of specific books. These
books may vary somew at in arrangement, but are
practically the same. To enter the first or lowest
college class (the Freshman) usually demands as a
prerequisite a. good knowledge of all ordinary Eng-
ish branches—algebra. up to or beyond equations;
Latin u to Virgil, and the rudiments of Greek, Ger—
man or reach, as the pupil prefers. LeSsthan this
no good college accepts.

PERCY 6., Rock Island. We can not supply the
numbers containing Capt. J. F. C. Adems’ splendid
romance, “ Lightning J 0, the Rough Rider of the
Plains.” It was publi‘shcd over two years ago. The
recent death of this noted and very remarkable
borderman—known to the whole South-west as
Lightning JO—makes a. re-issue of this story. in
some shape, very desirable. To reproduce it in
these columns is impossible, owing to the pressure
of new matter. We have decided, therefore, to
give it complete in the new and beautiful series of
“ Pocket Novels," which already embraces some of
the finest stories in the whole range of American
literature, b such noted writers as 011 Coomes,
Albert W. Ai en, Capt. Mayne Reid, Mrs. M. V. Vic—
tor, Edward S. Ellis. Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, etc.,

ptc.

MRS. M. D. Your carpet is not “ irretrievably in-
jured ” by those grease'spots. Grease of almost
any nature can be removed from cotton, woollens
or silk by rubbing magnesia on the spots, then cov-
ering with clean brown paper and applying a. warm
flatiron. Repeat a. few times‘, and the grease-spots
will be removed. As to paint-spots, chloroform will
' remove them from any fabric when benzole or bi-
sulphide of carbon fails.

GOLD FEVER, Topeka. The Black Hill country is
forbidden to gold-hunters. It is now aSioux reser-
vation, and can not be even “ prospected,” much
less pre-empted or allotted .in diggings, until the U.
S. Government lifts the Indian title. Gold is there,
doubtless, in abundance, and Government will prob«
ably be forced to acquire the title by a new treaty
and removal of the Sioux; but, until that is done,
'- there is no use of your thinking of hunting gold in
the region. The route from Omaha. is up the Mis~
l souri to Fort Sully, and by Upedion from there: or,
from Sherman Station on the Pacific R. R.—which
is the nearest point to the new gold section.

DRIVER asks: “ What kind of a bit is best to put
in a. colt’s mouth 9” It de ends on the use to which
you intend to put him. I for family driving, an
easy snaffle, thick and round. If you want to make
» him fast, as he must lean on the hand, we have seen
nothing better than a round leathern bit. It eu-
coura‘ges him to bear on the bit, and he acquires the
habit of pulling. This habit is common to all track
horses, trotting or running. If you want a handy
horse for ridin , light in hand, the sooner a. proper
curb is put in t e colt’s mouth the less trouble will '
there be in breaking him. A proper curb is almost

y.

 

unknown outside Of German here alone is bit-
ting studied on scientific principles, as relates to
curbs. A curb bit must fit the horse‘s mouth as fol-
» lows: 1. The mouthpiece must be equal to the width
of the mouth with a quarter of an inch to spare.
2. Thacheekpin must be exactly equal in length to
the depth of the bars (i. e., the distance between the
top and bottom of the lower jaw, measured across
where the bit comes). 3. The bunches must be
' twice the length of the cheeks. 4. The curb-chain
must fall exactly into the furrow of the chin called
the curb-channel. 5. The width of the port must
be exactly equal to the width of the tongue-chan-
nel. 6. The mouthpiece must be thick and round.
With a bit on this principle, no colt will behave
fractiously. With a. large, ill-fitting bit, he is sure
to be restive. The grand secret of curbing is to
make the curbvchain absolutely painless, the mouth-
piece only painful on pressure. With a. snaffle, the
secret is to have it only just broad enough. Too
large, it pinches the sides of the mouth and puzzles
the horse, besides creating sores.

ALEX. H. The different habits and modes of life
of various tribes are largely due to the physical fea-
tures of the country 111 which they are born, or
through which they have wondered. How the
American savage came by his thirst for whisky, we
can not explain except upon the hypothesis that the
more untutored or gross the nature, the greater
the love of excitants. A boat is a. natural drunk-
ard; so is a monkey. Whisky to an Indian is a
means to a. beastly enjoyment—a. substitute for the

asslon of murder. With a. bear it appears to be a
ove of drunkenness. I

HENRY C. S. Yes, it is known that persons have
been poisoned by their own breath; for in the reign
of George II, the Rajah of Bengal took some Eng~
lish prisoners, and put one hundred and fortysix
of them into a. prison known as the “ Black Hole of
Calcutta,” which was eighteen feet square by six-
teen in hight, while the only means of ventilation
was throu 11 two small grated windows. The first
night one undred and twent -three of the unfor-

_ tunatos died, and a number 0 the survivors were

carried off by putrid fever. The cause of their
death was the poisonous nature of the atmosphere.
A number of other instances might be cited on this
sub'ect. We inhale oxygen, but exhale carbonic
aei gas—a deadly poison to the lungs of animal or
men.

Gm KER. The sweet and sticky moisture occnc
slonall deposited upon the leaves of plants is call-
ed honey-dew, thoug it is not dew, as it is produced
by a. class of insects known as aphides.

a“ Unanswered questions on hand will appear

 

 

ding. . WASHINGTON WHITEBORN.

next week.

 

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