The Saline County Journal from Salina, Kansas • Page 4

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TnTm inns' mnwn in inn pwmr siT itoetrtr. -rMHB affpfAp LEGEND OF THE MISTLETOE. From Barper'a Monthly. Old Santa Clans woke, one bright cold mom. In righteous indignation, And swore in a way, we blush to Bay, Was shocking beyond relation.

That he could not, would not, should not bear Thla atate of thing any longer; He'd aoon find out, by his saintly beard. Which, he or Cnpid, were the atronger! It aeema that our 8aint had earthward perped Through star-rifts in hla palace, And aeen a Right that with reason might Enkindle a good aaint'a malice Young lore bad come from his tropic home With flag and banner flying. To boldly reign in the Saint'a domain, AH right and might defying. The snow-drifts, catching his fmOea of light, With sunset hnes were glowing; The brooklet, echoing his soft, low laugh. From winter chains was flowing; The icicles shone on every tree With hues of prismatic splendor; The very sky took a softer blue.

The sunbeam a radiance tender; Bat worse than all oh, far, far worse Than all this tribulation! A dreadful spell on young folks fell In every dime and nation. The boy, whose hope in its fartherrst scope Was placed on his Christmas dollar. Now rhymed of doves, and signed for loves. And sported a Byron collar; And girls "Ah, the girls the good Saint groaned Twas so altogether shocking: They dreamed of clothes sod mustached beaux. Instead of a Christmas stocking! "All Cupid's work!" growled the irate Saint The graceless, gay young sinner; 111 lay my rod on that impish god Ere I eat my Christmas dinner.

To beard me thus In my own domain, The rogue is past redemption, rn break his darts, 111 mend his hearts. Or III" What, we need not mention. 8o Santa Clans donned the bearskin coat Bequeathed him by Ursa Major, Took something strong, for the way was long (Our Saint is a keen old stager.) His reindeerteam shook their silver bells, And sniffed the northwind gladly: "Xow," Santa Clans cried, "hurrah for a ride! These earth folks need me sadly." They skimmed the frozen polar sea. Like dart from rross-bow springing. O'er snow-dad plains they swiftly sped.

Like swallows southward winging; Through forests dim where ice-clad trees In ghostly garb were bending; Through wizard realms where night and day In light and shade were blending. Like flitting dream sped the reindeer team, The Saint cheering "Onward loudly. Tin hoofs struck fire from tower and spire Where Cupid's flag floated proudly. Like summer rose glowed the saintly nose The punch had been somewhat heady His brow knit with ire, his eye flashed fire. He grasped his rod and made ready; Then, hiding his sleigh behind a cloud.

And gathering his furs about him. With stately port into Love's own court The Saint advanced to rout him. The traitor's court was a crystal hall Bedecked with wreaths and flowers: For Love had breathed o'er the sleeping earth And wakened the springtime flowers. The holly twined round the gleaming dome, And hung o'er each lofty portal While ivy leaves wreathed each taper bright, Like love in its youth immortal. The youth and maids of every age The traitorous god surronnding, Were hailing with Joy the saucy boy The tableau was quite confounding.

Our good Saint muttered in heartfelt wrath. An unsaintiy exclamation; For Cupid, perched in a swinging wreath, Was lord of the situation. "Why, who comes heroT" quoth the laughing god. Tia growled the Saint, with passion Tia Santa Claus, Christmas' long-crowned king, Though now it seems out of fashion. Begone, young Sir; we've had quite enough Of your madcap court and rev Now Santa Clans reigns iu his own domains, And you may fly to the Our Saint here raised his threatening rod; The lad only laughed still bolder; Then, leaning light from his garland bright.

Came plump on the Saint's broad shoulder. "Most potent, grave and reverend Sir (I quote from a well-known poet,) Though I'm sometimes bought, I am never caught When I am. Just let me know it. You bought this rod to banish a god," He cried as he snatched it gayly "And faith it stings; but I'm blessed with wings That aave me from trouble daily. Good father, your switch shall famous be By way of retaliation.

Old Santa Claus' rod I now declare My wand of administration. Each thorn to a verdant leaf shall grow. Undying as Love's own bowers; Each snow-flake to berry waxen white As Hymen's festal flowers. The mistletoe bough, by Cnpid's vow. is spen-oouna now and forever.

And winter with icy touch shall ne'er The bloom from the branches sever; And under Its shade each youth and maid Shall forfeit to Cupid's treasure The tax that he sips from rosy lips. And claims at his roysl pleasure." So saying he waived the mystic bough Quite solemnly three times round him. What words can paint the wrath of our Saint He found Cut the spell had bound him. Tour forfeit. Sir," cried the roguish god "I gave you an honest warning.

You 11 And the kiss from each bright-eyed miss Most certainly not alarming." In rain old Santa Claus stormed and swore What should have been maledictions Were lost mid the curls of threescore girls And changed into benedictions. They kissed him on lips, on cheek, on chin; His saintly old beard was bristling; They kissed, though be scowled they growieo. Young Cupid in glee was whistl'ng, "Grace, grace, at length roared the poor old Saiut, In utter desperation; "Confound that bough! it would peril, I trow, St. Anthony's reputation." "My arctic friend," cried the rognlsh bov, "I'm not so easily banished." Then, flinging his rod at the laughing god Our Saint up the chimney vanished. mosxu A moral is always at least, they tell me The key of the archway, the pith of the tree.

The dark, rugged root whence the bright blossoms grow. The strong, bitter suds whence the soap-bubblea blow; But not being much of the moralist's mind. It takes some hard thinking a moral to find. Our Saint'a sad experience Just leads me to ssy. Young Love is a despot so dout say nun nay.

Our willa are his plaything, our hearts are his throne 81nce the rascal must rule us why let him alone. Iticcllaun. FLOWER OF THE DAISY. A Christmas Story. It was just a week before Christmas, perched on his three-legged stool, in the counting room of the great house of Worthington Brothers, old Joe Darling, the ancient book-keeper of the firm, was finishing his Saturday night's entries.

When thus engaged, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and, turning his head, he saw his old, gnii-haired empiover, the sole proprietor of the firm, beside him. I'lt'sthe last time, my old friend," said the merchant, nointinir to the lpilmr? the news this cvenimr deailm pvprrfliitur Unless something happens before the of January, Worthington Brothers must cioe doors and wind up business. Joe. Old Joe started as he listened to these melancholy words, and a tremor ran through him. "Don't sjy that! don't say that, Mr Worthington!" he exclaimed.

And Le dabbed his forehead with his old bandanna handkerchief as he spoie. "Don't say that Worthington Brothers will suspend payment, sir." "Worse than that, Joe," returned the old merchant with a heavy sigh. "I see no hope of resuming. The great failures in Europe have hopelessly involved us so that" he stopped with a gloomy expression in his eyes Vo that, on or before the 1st of January." he added, "the house will close its doors. I could bear that; but when I think that the name of Worthington Brothers will be dishonored" Therethe old man broke down.

Joe seized his hand, and cried in a trembling voice: "Don't, don't don't say that, sir! uouiuse teat word Uisbonored! It BOtsohad! "Ruin! ruin! utter ruin!" groaned the merchant. "No, no; not ruin!" See here sir. I I vou see. I have saved a little And old Joe drew from his pocketbook, with unsteady hands, certificates of de posit Tinou mud. av aaaaafcfc Jsaw.

sm ray bMMIC "Take it, fir! It was made in your ser-ice! hencstly made-there's not a dirty shilling in it, sir It is yours, and He thniut the paper into the merchant's hand. But Mr. Worthington pushed them back. "No, old friend," said the merchant, sighing deeply, but speaking in a voice of resignation no, that is not the way Worthington Brothers do business. If we fail, it shall be honestly alone after honorable exertion.

We will not drag down our friends and you Joe, our oldest and best. Xo, the house has kept faith and honor for fifty years. If ruin comes wc will go down alone. It is not our fault, I will do mv dutv and trust in God. Joe.

to the end." As he spoke the old merchant went to the safe and took out a roll of bank notes. Then he directed the various emplo es to be sent for, and paid them all up to the end of the then present week, lie bad a kind word for each, and an inquiry about every man's family or concerns; and then he turned to ins aesKT. mil mc men aiu not go. "What are you waiting for, my friends? Can I assist jou in any manner'?" asked the old merchant. "If you please, sir," said the foremost of the party, "we would like to leave our money in 3-our hands.

Eh!" And the speaker turned toward his com' panions, who uttered a hoarse murmur of assent. "Leave your money in my hands?" said the merchant; "Just so, was the reply. "We heard tell how times are hard with the AVorthington Brothers, and the house in difficulties. Now, we don't want our meneyas ct, Mr. Worthington.

Eh? Do you?" And he looked toward those in the rear. Another growl of assent replied. "All which," the spokesman added, "goes to show, sir, that we are not in want. Keep the money, Mr. Worthing ton." The merchant gazed with deep emotion at the rough, honest faces.

"Thanks, thanks, my kind friends!" he said. "This proof of your friendship touches me dceplv, but I cannot accent your offer. Such a small sum, besides, would be ot little service. no keep it, and may God bless you and yours." The employes retired on this, not daring, it seemed, to intrude further on the head of the house. "Father in Heaven, I thank Thee!" lnnrmuml the merchant, and turninir awav.

he nicke.1 un the cvenimr uaner to hide his emotions. Ashiseje.s fell upon it a paragraph attracted his attention. It announced the failure of the bank in which the savings of his old book-keeper had been deposited. With a igh he handed it to Joe Darling and said: "I deeply regret this, my old fnend. My ruin was enough." Old Joe read the announcement with a sinking heart, and echoed the sigh of his old friend.

"The Lord's will be done sir!" he said; you ought to have all, but I am now pen-nijess. Your trouble is greater than mine. Any letters, bir, by to-night's mail? Any resources or important intelligence?" "Xo resources, Joe. and bail news almost worse than all." "Worse, sir?" ''Yes, yes. You remember my son Charlei of course you remember him.

i ou Know ne went auotu two years since to live with It Van Zandt at Ant- wem?" "Yes sir; what of him? Don't tell me he is not dead!" "Jvo: that nanir is snared me. but I have had verv uad news of Charley, mv old friend. I wrote recentlv. announcing our situation, and recommending his return, and Messrs. Van Zandt Co.

replied mat ne uad leit tuem neanv a jear aso. Lett them?" "Yes. yes. He had fallen into evil courses and they reprimanded him vdien he went off, no "one knew whither. Let ters were written to me by the house, but they must have micamed.

Nothing has since been heard of Charley. I fear he has taken to more evil ways "still. He may be dead indeed! Unhappy) that I All connected with me seem to turn out badly!" The merchant uttered a groan. Old Joe looked at him with deep commiseration. "I am more fortunate than you are, Sir.

Worthington," he said in a low tone; "I had a son a noble boy he is dead, sir! You knew my Edmund? He was so handsome so spirited, so bold, and he was lost at sea! He was a whaler the shin floun dered, and the crew were lost. My poor hdmund! are truly unfortunate fathers, sir!" There the conversation ended, and the merchant and bookkeeper separated. Through the following week untiring efforts were made to collect the resources of Worthington Brothers. But a slight success crowned the merchant's efforts to rescue Lis houe. Friends of past rears seemed tohave trown cold, and regretted their inability to render assistance; and it was only by great sacrifices that tne house succeeded in making all payments up to Christmas day.

In this however, the firm succeeded, and as Mr. Worthington locked the safe and put on his hat, he drew a Ions breath of relief: then, taking his old book keeper's arm, he went home with a thankful heart, and. as they separated at the corner, he murmured: "Let ui keen a rood heart vet. old friend." Christmas morning, and the snow was falling and the wind whirline It around mail. A tbonsand goblins seemed lautrhing and tnminir somersaults and hailing each other as they s.ported round the gables and whistled "through the keyholes and chimneys, wiM with mirth at the coining of Christmas, and old Joe Darling small house, in a reraot.

street in the great city. reemM especially honored by the hobgoblins, who shook the windows until they rattled agaiu. A creat firs was bsrnis? asd the cmkfut table set, and old Jo nibbing his hands in front of the blaze and looking out of the window, when a voice liehind him, with a rush of laughter in it like a silver bell, exclaimed: "Christinas gift, father, dear. I have caught you." Old Joe turned around. As he did so a pair of rosy lips pressed his cheek and two arms clung about his neck, belonging to a little fairy of seventeen.

"Why, you look like a sunbeam, Daisy," he said. And indeed the face resembled one. so brilliant was the light of her eyes. Daisy was small, with a neat, cozy figure, in a plain but pretty dress; and you saw at a glance tliat tbis was one ot thoeo litue-ng-ured fairies, who are the blessings of the homes wnicu tney rule. The father smiled and fondly passed his hand over her hair.

As he looked at her he thought of his well-nigh penniless condition and heaved a sitrli. "Poor little lady bird! I have nothing forSou!" he said, sighing again. But Daisy did not 'seem to regard the circumstances as at all depressing. On the contrary her face glowed, and, turning her bright face toward one side, she whispered: "I've got a Christmas gift for you, father dear." "Have jou? Xow you've gone and worked your little fingere to tne bone. It's a cravat, or "No.

indeed, I've done nothing of the sort that is not your present." The ruh of joyous laughter in the girl's oico nearly drowned her woids. She seemed overflowing with some secret. Their talk was interrupted, however, by the appearance of Mother Darl in and her flock, with old Uncle John, looking wise and secretive. Daisy had procured, somewhere, the handsomest Christmas tree imaginable a bushy cedar, full of light blue berries, and, havimr returned from church, whither she went dutifully with the rest, she proceeded, with the aidofUucle John, her prime friend and favorite, to deck the wondrous tree with Its brilliant ornaments. As evening drew on it was finished, and erected on the sideboard its paper baskets, and presents, and tapera making it a magical spectacle to the young Darlings, who gazed at it with open-eyed wonder.

Then the Christmas dinner appeared and riveted all eyes. The great roast turkey and round of beef, and flanking side dishes, roused wild enthusiasm in the young ones. Old oe devoutly said grace, mdthe youthful members of the Darling family, chirping like a flock of binls, called the others, attention to the splendid banquet. All sat down. Old Joe looked around.

"There's one seat too he said. "I set it there, brother." said Uncle John, tranquilly. "For whom, brother? Have jou invited some friend?" "No brother; 1 thought of our Edmund." The old book-keeper looked wMfully at his brother, and then went and held out lus band to him. "Tnank you, brother," he said, in a low voice, returning to his 3eat. When the first pang had passed, it seemed a satisfaction to Joe to gaze at the vacant chair, and to think of his son being present and enjojing their happiness.

And when, at last, their dessert came and the wine was poured out, the old man looked toward the vacant chair as he raised the glass to his lips. Suddenly the voice of Daisy rang out, half choked with laughter. "Why, wc are forgetting our tree!" she cried; "we are really losing sight of our tree, uncle dear. Did anyliody everr And, not waiting for "anybody" to reply, Daisy started up, and. assisted by Uncle John, bore the magical cedar in its neat box covered with evergreens to the centre ot the table.

Night had now come, and the tapers on the tree were lit. As the fairy spectacle of many-colored baskets, candy cornucopias, and the presents of needle-work and books and garlands flashed forth in the mellow light of the tapers, the young Darlings uttered a suppressed cheer, and "Pet," in curls and pinafore, made a des perate attempt to climb upon and carry the prize ai the point of his baby spoon. "No. said Daisy, "wait till sister gives you yours! Hut first. Uncle John is coing to tell a beautiful story! Will you listen, father dear, and mother? It is lovely." The laughter in the voice made all look at Daisy.

Why did the child's cheeks flush so, and why the dazzling light in her eyes? But now Uncle John riveted everylody's attention. For the moment he was the center of excited interest for the whole Darlinir family. He seemed to feel the responsibility resting upon htm. He reflected for a moment smiled dreamily; thrummed on the table then besran: "The tale I am goinij to relate mv dear yuung inenus. sam L.ncie jonn, i must inform vou is strictly true in even rartie- ular.

It was written down by the" King of tne licnii, and then caught in the beak of a great bird called a roc, and the Prince Camaralzaman, having been shipwrecked on a deert island where the bird came to feed, kil'ed the roc, and the story has been in the Palace of Bagdad, where the prince livd, ever si-ce." At his commencement the young Dar-lintrs exhibited an astoundim; interest. As to Pet, his excitement was beyond the power of words. His eyes resemWed two saucers; his mouth opened to its outmost wiutb; and, in the excess of lus attention, he very nearly swallowed his baby-spoon. No one looked at Daisy. With one band shading her eyes from the light, and the other placed upon her breast, she looked at Uncle John or furtively toward her father.

Uncle John continued: "Havingtold you, my dearchuMren. bow the story came to be known, I will next proceed to relate il for your eaterUia-ment. 'There osce lived in chr cf Bxedsd an old Btrchut whoH uwsi Btxusact which being interpreted, is Worthy Han. Abou-ben-darling not unlike the name of our family served the good merchant Barilzac, wnose caravans brought to Bagdad all the treasures of the East. But misfortune came.

The caravans were overwhelmed in the sands of the desert. The moment was near when Barilzac would protjabi be compelled to strew dust upon his head and wander through he streets of Bagdad, crying, 'Barilzac, the merchant is ruined." "This happened," continued Uncle John, "just before the great festivity which comes on the 25th day of the month of Snows. Abou-ben-darlimr came home that day, thinking of the misfortunes of bis patron, and also of the great suffering of his own for all of us must suffer, my children. His only son had been lost at sea, and the heart of Abou-ben-darling wa8sad. He returned to hold the festival of the cedar tree, but his heart felt heavy.

Abou-ben-darling is he said; 'thorp i Tin mnn mftr mTsprtfrl, there is no man more miserable! "As he thus spoke, hi3 darling Pari-banou approached him. The name of Paribanou, my children, signifies the Flower of the Daisy. She came now to Abou-ben-darling, and kissed him in the Eastern fashion, said, 'Oh! father dear! Oh! Abou-ben-darling do not despair! Behold the feast is set, and the holy cedar tree blazes: the tapers therein shine like stars, and many gifts hang down from the blanches of the wondrous tree!" Here Pet suddenly buist forth, "Why, it's like our tree!" onlyheleft ourther in "tree." "Silence, Pet! do not interrupt!" said Uncle John. "I continue: Abou-ben-darling sighed when his darling thus spoke: 'Truly, Flower of the Daisy', he said, 'thy cedar tree shines; but my heart is dark, and there is no gift there for 'There is a gi ft for our father, 'said Pari uanou, or lower ot the uaisv: and. as she spoke, there was a curious lauirhtcr in her voice.

'There is a gift that our father will value more than alL else a. package with his name on it from a distant land. Thev did not look at Daisy, who was trembling, and whose band" scarce possessed strength to draw a letter from her bosom. Uncle John continued: "And Abou-ben-darlinir said: 'Where is this package, my to which the Flower of the Daisy replied: 'Father, dear, it is here! See, 1 take it from the boughs of the holy cedar tree, and git it to3'ou!" As Uncle John uttered the words, Daisy sprang forward with the letter in her hand. "Here it is, father dear?" she cried, bursting into tears and laughter.

"It nearly killed me not to tell you! Oh, take it, take it! Our Edmund is not dead!" And throwing her arms around old Joe's neck, she sobbed upon his bosom, while witn eyes tuti ot wonder be read tbe letter from his son. As he read on be seemed to doubt whether he was reading a real letter. His eyes closed; he uttered a sigh, and would have fainted had not Uncle John caught him in his arms. The letter was written to Daisy by her brother Edmund. He had been picked up in the Pacific and carried to the South Seas by a trading vessel; thence he had worked his way to California, encountered Charles Worthington roaming about the trold regions they had speculated there and made great tortunes, and were coming home on the next steamer.

That was the letter. As Joe grew faint, Pet suddenly ran behind his mother's apron, uttering au appalling scream. At the door stood a tall young man with a ferocious beard. "How are you, father and mother, and Daisy?" They ran into his arms, uttering cries and sobs, the sailor was borne usain, never to leave them more; and as Daisy rested in her brother's arms with her rosy cheek upon his breast, she said, laughing and crying: "Father, dear, how do you like your Christmas gift?" The windows shook as she spoke. It was, doubtless, the merry goblins, highly pleased with themselves and cverjbody else; and the holy night the happy, blessed night went" on its way full of joy and gratitudel A year afterward, strange to say, Christmas came again, and saw the house of Worthington Brothers prosperous, and old Joe happy, and Charles the husband of the Flower of the 'Daisy.

And again the cedar tree was lit and spread around its cheerful lisht, and the loud wind laflghed, and the merry goblins seemed to shout: "A merry, merry Christmas!" A Story or BallrMd Travel. From tbe Boston AdrrrtLer. Several weeks one of our well-known citizens was in St. Louis wilh his daughter and a young lady friend of hers. From that point the gentleman lwught three sleeping-cars sections of the Pullman Palace Car Company, receied his tickets from St.

Louis to Boston, the berths purchased were marked with his name and marked paid; and this diagram of the cars so marked was placed in the hand of the condnc-tor on the Pullman car. When the conductor came fo take up the tickets, the gentleman, bting in earnest conversation with a friend, handed out the envelope containing, as he snpposed, all the tickets. The conductor, not interrupting the conversation at once, soon spoke and claimed that one ticket was missing and demanded and collected pay the second time, which payment was made, however, under protest, and a receipt taken from the conductor stating the facts. At the time this payment was made tbe conductor bad in bis band the diasram with three sections marked paid. These evidences of double payment were sent theofficeof the company in Chicago, who paid no attention to it.

Of tins eipenenct? and a similar adventnre in a Wagner car on the same trip, the gentleman writes: The company did not deem the matter worthy of notice. It is averysmall matter, so far as it affects me me personally, was rather clad they took no notice of it. I made inquiry as I proceeded on my journey, and found the conductor hod followed the rule of the road to take no evidence the ticket, and to demand double payment if this was lost. In my own cae I can not prove that the conductor stole it: but why otherwise should not all have tsen miing. instead of one, asther were all to- eetner? fhe condnexorwas evidently train ed to his business, and if each conductor should knock down on one passenger on each train, somebody would in time reap a harvest.

As a startling commentary on this practice, on my'arrival at Washington I saw posted up in the Riggs House a photograph of a handsome young man who ws placarded as having stolen a force rum I think 1120,000 from this same company. If its conductors rob br authority, why should not its confidential servants On my way from New York to Boston I sect the vountr Indies ahead to the depot, and asked them to buy seats in th drawing-room car. Thy so, and when th conductor can for them th tickets could not be found. He replied: "Nothing: I vu satisfied the tickets had bea purchased, and a conductor mu.t use wn' discretion innchcxc." Battels was in a Wiener car not a Pullman. I can net find that thev enforce any such rule a tbe Pullman) in any of the Eastern State, but the Pull-nun can are not much nsd here I hare i spoken to two of mv leral friends ahont tbe i legality of such a role, and thrj- both agree tsi use is bo taw a jaWawicssKUs teat woeid aausnM it.

Strange Fancies of a Recently Deceased New Vork Llterarr Man. From the Sew Tork Telegraph. Laughton Osborne died yesterday at the house of his sister in West Fifteenth street, New York, in the seventieth, year of his age. His death is said to be sudden, but his relatives are reticent as to the cause. He was little known to this i generation; but had he died about the time fcdpar Allan roe was one of his cronies the New Yorkers of that day would have known all about him.

Laughton Osborne was as eccentric a child of genius as Poe, although not so great. Until late ly he resided with a brother in Nineteenth street, near Eighth avenue, where the former lived the life of a recluse. The brother was a medical gentleman, and of course went out to visit patients, but Laughton lived amid his books and birds somewhat the life of Mrs. Havisham, in Great Expectations. Within the post five years he has probably only been visited by half a dozen old friends.

He was the son of an old physician, and was graduated at Columbia College in 1S27. Almost immediately afterward he entered upon literary pursuits. About 1831 he astonished the New York public to whom litsrory sensations were then rare with a rambling imitation of Tristram Shandy, entitled Sixty years of the life of Jeremy Lewis a grotesque, humorous, sensational, satirical, but crude and unhni-hed book in two stout volumes. About this time his sister died, and this event seems to have tended to develop a latent eccentricity. From that time he lived in a continual state of mental ferment and at war with publishers, the public and the critics.

His tendencies were toward odd ps3cho-locicul investi'Mtions and skepticism. His second production wa3 pamphlet entitled ine irearu ot illa-ad-deen, and intended. as the preface states, "to reconcile us to death and evil," and on the somewhat Bunsbyan ground that comparatively man is of little importance in the scale of creation. In 1S53 he published ia this city the Confession of a Poet. In 1SJ3 he issued at Boston a poetical satire entitled Kubeta, an Story of the Island of witb illustrations done on Stone.

The latter phrase hides a pun, for the object ol the volume was to ridicule Wm. L. Stone, the editor of the Com-mercinl Aihriiisrr. who had unmercifully criticised Osborne's earlier works. The book was alto full of rabid attacks upon a score of well-known New Yorkers, most of whom are now dead.

It was crammed, too, with libelous notes. He was prosecuted for libel in consequence, but notlunir came of it. Thelwok was nota' ble for its fine paper, finer illustrations, and remarkable typographical excellence. It is now ery rare, and a copy of it recently sold at auction for $10. In 1541 the Applctons published for Osborne a metri cal romance, entitled Aithur Carrjl.

Added to it were curious amatory odes and an Epistle to the Devil. The long poem con tained many felicitous descriptions of female beauty. By way of showing his versatility, Mr. Osborne" in 1814 published, through Wiley Putnam, a Treatise on OM Painting, which, in its time, was received pleasantly by the profession. Alout ten years ago Michael Doolidy published tor him a semi-infidel drama, entitled Calvary, which is cot pleasant production for Christian readers, yet it had a large sale.

In his prime Langhton Osborne was a most remarkable-looking gentleman. His family in his early life were of the wealthiest in New York, and ho had command of money for purposes of travel and dalli ance with libraries-. pictures and publishers. His scholarship was varied and ac curate. He could almost have been called an American Cnchton.

In conversation as well as with the pn he had few equals at downright inectie. Yet he exhibited strange flashes of tenderness and generosi ty at times. He was independent to the very point of Quixotism. He could have pro ed a great ornament and a welcome accession to society, because he was not onlyapoet and a painter, but a skilled musician and a master of the continental languages. Yet he chose rather to make an Ishmnel of himselr.

Hi was fond ol contributing letters to the different journals. At one time of bis life he became a favorite visitor of the elder Bennett. Wheneer he walked the streets he was noticeable from the fact of his height that was within a quarter of an inch of six feet from his usually wearing in the streets a dress-coat, from the intellectual cast of hisfeatures. and frooi his manly, frank bearing. A U'orW reporter learned from his nephew, who is a physician, that his uncle carried his eccentricity to the last.

He requested that his funeral should not lw announced, and that not even a relative should look upon his dead face. He will be buried quietly in the family plot at Greenwood today, with jerhaps not naif a dozen attendants. Urathea Idean or Hell. As the subject of hell has been, and is still under discussion in the theologic world, the orthodoxists In civilization should be concerned to know what the inhabitants of heathendom think of it. The natives of the Marquesas islands, accopi ing to an American who has Iivcl among them for years and studied their character, customs and creed, picture hell as a region of profound darkness, no r.ty cf light tver entering it except on arrival of a spirit from earth.

By this ray the nevr- condemned spirit is guided to the special seat appointed for him or it ami there he remains in impenetrable shad' ow until the next comer bring a flash of light. There is no other punishment for the doomed. They are, however singed on entrance, because they are then obliged to pass a huge demon, who flaps his wicgj anil exhales fire continually. Women, it may In interesting to know, are seldom sent to the Morquesan Tophet, owing to tne love i witness, me cunomary egotism of the mote animal even in Polynesia) and deovtion thev bear the native chiefs and priests, who (here is gallantry) would be inconsolable without them, even in Paradise. Bat women are not admitted to the highest circles of the good place, preiiored alone for mn, who can.

however, descend to them, when they wish to enjoy feminin society. There are different plane of divine life for women, the loftiest lying re-sorvcil for those who have bred and loved mot intensely in this world, and wbo-e greatest bliss will come from the visits of the spirits of the chiefs and priest. IMi-Ma- raJtla. The miraculous cure of Mrs. Joseph Davis, of Brattleboro, VL, who said in have bea bedridden for eighteen month, is reported.

AU along she ha had faith in thd cScacy of prayer to heal her, and a week 9 go Sunday morning the rose feding perfectly well and healthy, and sent a note to th Baptist pastnrr which was read in church, uricg that divin power had been in her behalf and mxd her well again. She is up and about tb hocte, and coaSd-nt that the knows the exact hour when tbe cure was Watskr la maawamcki Gov. Rioe.of MajLcxdiasettA, baa rqut-ed the several town authorities to inform him 34 to the working of the License law a aainit the Prohibitory law, to far a retards tbe coaa-utmnt for drsskardjs-. and the amount HTaroU and thft-bv cea open for ibt fale, aad also to tsssd bira farta to crave the dcreaw. cf I rlxuskxaceai dcrinx the period who ths I let tixsi vtaad two dart, ties toil tie Prafcjbitary law aad th4 ardters OTer.

Leave ia btiM ix bets ra tcrc. Wm- li lyartg. aassw Capt. Caleb Cronkman, an old and high ly respected resident of the Twenty-second Ward, owned, until lately, a gigantic ostrich, that was as familiarly known in the region as himself. The great bird disap peared about three weeks ago, and yester day a reporter asked the Captain where it was.

The Captain said that he received on Friday the following dispatch irom ms trainer, in "The ostrich is dead." "One inoming in June," the Captain continued. "I was aroused by a peculiar cackling sound at my door," and I discovered in the hall a gigantic ostrich. which had just bitten off my door-knob, and was at that moment devouring it. With the aid ot some of the gentlemen in the house I secured the bird and turned him into the backyard. The next morning anadver-tisment appeared offering a reward for the ostrich, waicb had escaped trorn a menagerie.

I was so charmed with the bird's uninue endeavor to satisfy his appe tite that I bought him, and got him cheap by turning over the reward in part payment. "I occupied the rear room on the second floor, with a window opening on the roof of the extension. 1 put a tence around the roof, and thus made a nice pen for the Ostrich, and for some days I gave the glazierconstant employment in restoring the window glass that the ostrich had eat en out. Finally I settled tbi bother by planking up the window, and thereafter the only trouble the Ostrich gave me was when he took advantage of the carelessness of some gentleman who had let the bathroom window open. On such occasions the ostncn would sup down into the dining-room snd eat a few plates and tumblers: but, as a rule, he got enough from the fragments of broken crockery and glassware which tuc house afforded," and now and then a junk-bottle silad, or a dish of crooked noils as a delicacy.

"But one day, about three weeks ago, he crept down "into the dining-room, and remained there undisturbed for a longer time than usual, and before he was discovered he hail cleared one table of crockery, glassware, knives and forks, spoons, caster and all, and finished up by swallowing the tablecloth. Notwithstanding the great quantity and tlie nourishing quality of the food taken, he seemed to pine away from that meal forward, and about two weeks ago I had him taken over to my Hobokcn farm, thinking that a change of air and scene might be beneficial. Still he grew worse, and finally, about a week ago, I bcught out a hardware storeon Union Hill, and turned the bird into it. hoping that the sight of all the hardware on the shelves, with the privilege of eating whatever pleased his fancy, might brace him up. But.

in spite of all these efforts, he foiled and died, as set forth in the brief telegram which 1 re.ul to you. "We run him through a stone crusher, and found in him about two borrelsof iron, stone and gloss, and. last of all, the table-cloth, which was the real cause of his death. The wonderful machinery which could crush a stone jug like an eggshell was overcome by that paltry tablecloth, which had got so twisted and wedged among the cogs and bearings that the apparatus could work no longer, and, doubtless. life was a burden to the ostrich and it died." Romans! Wheal In Trouble.

Philadr'pMa Trlezrjiih Rome Letter. The roaring Tiber on Friday and Saturday carried along through its city course great trunks of trees, huge bits of wood, fragment of bridges, even bodies of men, hor-es and oxen, which the dashing waters had hurled down from the upjier volleys of the river sources, and were bearing swiftly down to tlio sea on its tumultuous tawny current. 1 lie city bad a most deso late, melancholy look. The jellow river lapped along through broad and narrow streets and wida piazzas, poured into cellars and the lower floor of houses. The pople stood about in sqnads, looking hopelessly, with that disheartened expression peculiar to a Iloman.

No human being can give you such depressing feelings as a Horn in when he is ia trouble. It is not despair, nor is it tragic; iti ti dreary hopelessness, mingled with indifference and apathy. At one place the Bocca della enta. near the tempi ot jlesta, where the in Mo tUmrnto of Horace swept over the piazza, a poor, gaunt-looking woman waded through the water, which dahd aboc her bore knes. She carried on her shoulders child of alout seven year of age, whose thin arms were clutched about her nock.

"Whv don't jou wait until the bark comes?" the people cried out. "My child is ill," she answered doggedly, "and I must carry him to the hospital." Her wretched home, miserable at the best of times, was filled with water. She had no bed, no food, nothing for herself or for her poor sick child. Is itawon-derthat bitterness enters the hearU cf such people? and when they mm and hear of the jov and bappines-s, the splendor and the festivals of their ruler, that they wnth in their misery i "Whv did you wish to kill the King?" asked the police officer of Possanante last Sunday. "Tanto appar.ito, tantefeste m'indup't' tivano.

llo detto tra me come lui man' agera died piitti ed it neppur uno? Per nnnttA ill. iiivriv iv'ta'i wre.ched man. thoe preparations. all these festivals, hurt mc. I to my self.

MIo-v! He shall have ten dishes of food to eat and I not one! or that reason I wished to kill These nnhsp- fy creatures are IikctWrr, as Cairoli called 'a'sanantc wild beaU; when mad with pain they are blind and deaf to al' reason. The Caart Crete Ksrlteal. tm tin 'ew Ycrk WorVJ. Ixin Locbman, a stout erraan, six feet lush, to accused in fc'pcial fe'euiona by William HaLVtt of anaault. "I'm afire insurance spent, "said llallett; "I went to a stable of Lochman'f yard to chat with a friend.

His dznzhlrr Louise came into theyard and asked me about my health. I toid I felt chilly, and sh jevrted me into the kitchen to have a dip of tea, and I went into the kitchrn. While I wa there Mr. Lnchman'i bartender came in. Soon after we beard foot-stew overhead.

She wet up to see if it was her father, ami I started for home, In the hallwar I ciH h'r father and he aw in: ed roe. "That will do." aid Justice Wanddl. "Coae up here. Mr. "Thw man, l7an Mr.

Lochroan. "cunt ta my bouse" And you him," said Justice "Only von didn't lick hjm said Jastice Waadetl. xncawg grratij rxausi ana ntcj; irons nis cnair. i nu yoonc man, a marrid man" lrccttr.tie.L "coninr to your hou io eejourdansd-terl Why. if it bad hs-en ray dxagbtzr, be wwMn'tUebere to tell the rtxrry.

Get tlo art. we've beard roouch." "We Sad yaa zmlty Uoaie we hat ta," said Jastxce OtterleKif. and too "And lb court mails' the ae," claimed Jtutke WodlL Ptckle For Ham. IG0 poand of meat, ouccra aahtelrri poaistla brown reyir. water, poandt alt Bab tbe casi weHwith 5ie itarJptk in casks wwa, utj aayi aaa And coosetraooo of npBftsd Uvea jo imry-s stem bsttest; Tin, Bite an echo faBmc his sad far Aa onto Earth the answer from, a star.

Along his thoothfs so nigh maossd track Oar psorVs heart o'ntaaea His pan draiim, and hears him, and awakes To breathe Its music back! Approach, aad forma, now tttfj to employ Tba (rave, sweet stops of aB melodious loVBd, Trt undertook wtth joy ror him ye lose, at last ia truly fonad. Scarce darkened by the shadow of these hoora. The Xanitoo. of Flowers, Crowned with the rainlei-cnp, that etaakaa Its (Iram of war-paint on has dusky cheek, Goes by, bat cannot speak; let tear or dew-drop "Death his coronal brwaka. And in hU drooping hand The mat eyelida of the gentian dia That loves the ywDow aotnmn land; The wtod-flower, rolVo-rod.

With phlox and orchis, nod: And every blossom fraU and hr So careless loiterer sees. But poet, son and brerar. And the bright countenance of our sistavn sky. They know who loved them: they. It an Forgo! to dress his paD.

Or strew his coach of long repose. Would from the prUrtes and tba central anowa The sighing Wrst-wtad call. Their prtsls. even aa withered tears, to bear. And.

Die a Xlobe of air. Cpoo his sea side grave to let them fall Nest yon. je many Streams, That make a music through hat cold grrea laod! Whether scour the granite aodra In broken spray-light or ta sheeted glraaw. Or dark basins stand. Tour bard's fond spirit in your own abides.

Not yours the wail of woe. Whose joy is in your wild and wanton now, ChlU. beautiful Undue That flash white hands behind ToarwkkeM And charm the wildwood and the dovru flumes To hide yoa in their glooms! But he hath kissed you, and hla lips betray Tour roysst secrets; sow, no mora Yonr bickering, winking tides shall stray Through August's Idls day. Or showered with leaves from brown XosetsiTisj's floor, rntamed, and rich In mystery As ye were wont to be! From where the deC of Oreylork feed Tour thin, yooogufe. to where the Baogamoa Breaks with Ida winding green the Western mead.

Delay to hasten ou! Ask not the cluudaand hills To aweU the veins of your obedient riSe, Ana mm your bants with turbu owsroow But calmly, soothlr go. Soft as a sigh and limpid aaa tear. ho mat ye seem to borrow The voice and the visage of sorrow. For he gave you glory and made you dear IT. Strong Winds and mighty Mountains, sovereign Baa, nax snau your axrges oe; The slow, great billow, far down the shore.

Booms in Its breaking: "Hare and despair The frtterlcM winds, aa they gather and roar. Are evermore crying: Where, oh wheref The mountain summits, with sges hoar. Say: ear and austere, but far and fair! Shsll ye in your sorrow droop. Who sre strong and aad. and who catanot stoop? Two may stag to him where he lies.

Bat the third is hidden hehlnd the skies. Te cannot take what he stole. And made his own in his Inmost soul! The tiulae of the endless wave Beanty and breath to his strophes gave The Inds with their hands unseen Held him pulsed at a hftght serene; And the world that woued him, be smiled to orr romelt; Whose bring the Mountains made so strong, Whose forehead anise like a snnlighled summit Oter eyes that were fountains of thought and eoug! Ami last, ye Forms, with shrouled fans Hiding the features of ytmr woe. That on the fresh sod of his tmrial-risos Your myrtle, oak and laurel throw, Who sre ye whence your silent sorrow Strange your aspect, alien your attire Hhall we, who knew him, tsirrow Your unknown speech for OrWe august destrsT I.o! one. with lined 1'row Ssys: "NaT.

he knew and loved me: I am Hpaia Another: 1 am Germany, Prawn sadly nearer now ltr smuts of his and mine that make one strain. Though parted by the world-dividing sea! Ana rrum tne mas or ureses loses mew A wind that shook tb ollt.es nf IVru. Tlil ail the world that knew. Or, knowing n4, shall yet swake to know The swelt hutcsulty that ruar.1 bu song, The haughty rhalleuge unto Wrong, And for the tram Truth hla frsrless blow, Acknowledge his slatted mood Of faith achieved In song-born solitude. And glte mm tugn acctalni With Ukh who fullowrd Mood, and vunj it Fams VI.

Ah. no! why should we mourn The noble life, thst wore its crown of years 7 ny aroti these lender, unavailing tears I'pou a fate of no folAIlineut shorn? He was too proud to seek Thst which should route unasked; and rem. Kindling and brightening as a wind-blown flams bra he hail waited long. And life but never art was weak, lint youthful will and sympathy wers strong In white-browed eve snd tiosry-bearded cheek t'ntil. when rallnl st last That later life to celebrate.

Wherein, dear Italy, for thine estate, Tbe glorious 111 nt joined tbe glortoua fast, lie fell, and erased to Ws could not y1M biro grandlw than thus, VI hen. fur thy hero speaking, lee Hke equally fur us Ills last word, sa his first, was Liberty! His last word, aa his first, fur Truth Struck to tb heart of age and jouth: He sought her everywhere. In the loud city, forest, sea and alrx lie bowed to wisdom other than his own. To wisdom snd to law. Conceals or dimly shown In sll lie knew not, all be knew and saw, TnuUng the ITeseot, tolerant ef lbs Pairt, Flrm-fallbed In what shall cmne When the vain noises of thews dsrs are dumb And his first word was noMe aa hla last WaUklsBfr.

Frm Hair Journal vt Ilss'th. Walking brinkiy, witb an exciting object of pleasurable interest ah fail, is the most healthful of all forms of exercise, except that of rncouraffini? rerauneraliTr, eti-ady labor in the open air: anil yet multitudes in requires exercis. tx-ldom walk. wLn they can tide, if the distance is a mile or more. It is wirrss in th country, rwpeoally with the we-H-to-do; a hone or carriage-must Le broughtto tbe door.eTrrn if ls distance must be paa-exl.

tbe condition! first named walking is a bliss; it fives animation to tii mind, it viviSra the circulation, it paints th cheek and sparkle the eye, and wake up the whole brtnir, physical, and moral. We know a family of children in this aty, who, from tb ajreof aercn, had to wait nearly two mile to school, winter and summer; whether sloet, or storm, ot or burning un, thry mad it an ambition never to stay from school on account of the wfather. and to las on of them waa hard to boast that in aert years it had n-vrben cefasary to girt an "excuse" for binjf ope m.natr behind time, even although in wirsts-r it waa necewsary to dreaa by iraa liifht Tby did not aTrraire two days" sitknews in arearaavl later they thought tvAhinjr of wallrintr twelve md-w at a time tb wis mountains. Sometime tbrjr would be caxjgfct in drencbiDjr rains and wet to the skin; on such occaaton the-r mad it a point to do one Lin jr. it rain, and trudge on -raore vizorously, until ry thread waa dry be- lore tney reached borne.

Scott, the greatest of Eatf'uh DcrtlisU, made use (4 ttiperrtitMrn in lua works. bet tie had not a particle of it it hla nature Haail Hall lays that SnoU told bat. oa tbe last rrrnioz of the year 124, wbra thty were UlkiSa ott this sabrct, that, harioar one arrived at a errantry iaa, waa told there waa Bo bed Ux faro. "'o pLve to Le down at all?" be. "50.

rail the fsot4 of fcoa: exempt a fxjoi ia which there ia a corps lyujg. "Well. said teMi.l tfce tereoa die of ary eoetaffiorjt disonW? at all nail Jy, "Well, tfcea. tr-ntiaaeJ "icttre har.tbeotiwrberL" "So." aaid Kr Waller. "I la! mt dea-a.

aad btt aad a Itirr aifat ia all isyiiie. toaavvr dtsxfatr Allutaaiaiatlft'MB Cfiaa lerisUiare to tmafcc a4Uff aVf aaJf sTS-a9ra fW a dieo-. allllallilafaaawla ta. lafctaa ta I I. 3i a rjn st- -aaaMZarssatSSitManwfv i I aw i giga atrj -3.