POETICAL BREVITIES, 
A TRUTHFUL ROMANCE 
Various S'opic.'i 
public will cease to talk of the sad fate of 
the young and beautiful princess. 
THE FAMILY. 
TIIK family la like a book 
The children are the lonvoa. 
The parents are the cover, that 
Protective beauty Riven. 
A Boston woman, who had long been 
given up for dead by all who were dear to 
her, lately appeared, “ the ghost of her 
former self,” to those who had thought nev¬ 
er to see her again. She told a story of 
strange and horrible suffering. More than 
a score of years ago she had sailed, a young 
girl of 18, with her missionary husband for 
ATTENTION TO SANITARY LAWS 
OSWEGO NORMAL SCHOOL 
The present year seems to be regarded by 
medical men as an exceptional one for the 
prevalence of diseases of a malignant type. 
The cause of this is not definitely known; 
it may be some atmospheric peculiarity— 
We give herewith a view of the Oswego 
Normal and Training School building, from 
Randall's ” History of the Common School 
System of the State of Now York,” pub¬ 
lished by Ivison, Blake- -- 
man, Taylor & Co. In his 
work Dr. Randall speaks 
thus of the Oswego School: 
This institution was or¬ 
ganized by State legisla¬ 
tion, in 1867, by the adop¬ 
tion and enlargement of 
the Training School previ¬ 
ously established in 18(53, 
and is now one of the larg¬ 
est and most prosperous 
institutions of the kind in 
the country, having an at¬ 
tendance of about :8k) pu- ==-: 
pile, and graduating aunu- , 
ally between 80 and 100. 
Edward A. Sheldon, A. 
M., late City Superintend- 'Sill 
eut, is the Principal and ' ' j jp= m 
Professor of Mathematics, 
a position which he basoc- ~ - .flsjM j 
cupied since the first or- 
ganization of the lustitu- 
tion; Joseph A. Primlle, 
A. M., Head Master and 
Professor of Natural Sci- 
enoes and Ancient, Lan- i.* 
guages; Isaac B. Poucher, 
A. M., Teacher of Aritli- rfK 
luetic and Algebra; Her- - jnEB 
man Crusi, of Geometry, 
History, and Philosophy of 
Education, and of German 
and Freuch: Mary Howe I 
Smith,Geography and His¬ 
tory; Matilda S. Cooper, 
Methods in Arithmetic, 
Grammar, and Object Lessons; Mrs. A. '1'. 
Randall, Reading and Elocution; Sarah .1. 
Armstrong, Rhetoric, English Literature, 
and Composition; Mary E. Perkins, Draw¬ 
ing; Mary D. Sheldon, Gymnastics, Bota¬ 
ny, and Latin; Martha McCumber, Prlnoi- 
At flrst the puRiis of the book 
Are blank and .nnrnly fair, 
But time soon wrlteth memories, 
Aiul palntetb pictures there. 
Love is a little golden clasp 
That blndcth up the trust; 
Oh, break it not, lest all the 
leaves 
Shall scatter and bo lost. 
THE EATE OE BEAUTY. 
A BOSK In beauty, glowing. 
Beside a clear stream flowing 
In rapid tide, 
In the ulnar wave’s reflection 
Admired her own perfection. 
And loved and sighed. 
The wilding breeze, npsprlnglng 
Despoiled the leaflets, flinging 
Them down the wave, 
To seek, all crushed and vapid. 
Young Beauty’s fate so rapid, 
An early grave! 
THERE is a garden where lilies 
And roses are side by side; 
And all day between them in 
silence 
The silken butterflies glide. 
1 may not enter the garden, 
Though I know the road there 
And morn by morn to the gate 
way 
1 see the children go. 
'liiikMu m 
They bring back light on their 
faces; 
But they cannot bring back to 
me 
What the lilies Buy to the roses, 
Or the songs of the butterflies 
be. [E. T. Palgrave. 
SMILES. 
A k m ilk Is but a little thing 
To the happy giver. 
Vet full oft It leaves a coltu 
On life’s boisterous river. 
uentlo words are never lost, 
llowe'r small their seeming 
Sunny rays of love are they 
O'er our pathway gleaming. 
AN ITALIAN LOVE TRAGEDY 
The city of Rome has been agitated re¬ 
cently by a tragedy as fearfully romantic as 
any that have been told In romance or sung 
in opera. On the25th of February the Prin¬ 
cess Cater Ilia Chigi, a beautiful girl of eight¬ 
een years, went autfor a walk to a jeweler’s 
on the Corso. Nothing more was heard from 
her until the ’^7th, when her body rose to 
the surface of the Tiber. It was clad in the 
rich attire she wore on the day of her dis¬ 
appearance, but it was stained with blood 
from a dagger stab in her breast. The weap¬ 
on, whioh hud a beautiful diamond hilt, still 
remained in the wound, while on the plain 
white collar, pinned to her dress, was writ¬ 
ten the word vendetta. Vengeance, not the 
desire of robbery, was the inspiring cause of 
the crime. The deceased had been sought 
and won by Erberto Gitiglie, junior prince 
of Aldobrandini, a house like hers, among 
the most illustrious in Rome. Religious 
ideas, however, gained possession of her 
miud, aud she resolved to enter the cloister. 
The 25th of March, the feast of the Annun¬ 
ciation, was fixed upon as the day when she 
would turn her back upon the world. 
When Erberto knew of her determination 
he was very angry, charging her with per¬ 
jury, and vainly endeavored to induce her 
to abandon her change of plan. He then be¬ 
came sullen, aud absented himself from the 
Chigi palace, where he had hitherto been a 
frequent visitor. 
The circumstances of Caterina's death 
would make one suspicious, if not quite con¬ 
fident, that she had fallen a victim t o F.r- 
berto’s rage, even without positive proof 
that he was her assassin. They view things 
somewhat differently in Italy, and at last 
accounts Erberto had not been arrested. 
His high rank has given him immunity, and 
made many believe that he could not be t lie 
perpetrator of so fiendish a crime. The own¬ 
ership of the very valuable dagger would 
seem to be easily traceable, and it is proba¬ 
ble that ere this Erberto has been taken in¬ 
to custody, unless other developments have 
shown that anothor person is the criminal. 
The idea of Catarina's suicide is not tena¬ 
ble. The Chigi family are in the deepest 
mourning, and it will be long before the 
BY ROSE GERANIUM 
Minnie Dale sab on an upper porch in 
the stealing chill and blackness of a lar- 
spent, early spring twilight. The faint, 
slim moon, t hat glided swiftly over its track 
of marvelous, dreamy flakes of white cloud 
and mysterious, quivering, blue-black, had 
dropped behind the bare forest, and a thou¬ 
sand stars, like wind-tossed crocus petals, 
seemed to alight and float upon the half 
liquid expanse. 
An almost audible bush auear, creeping, 
zephyr.bearing, in a silvery whisper, from 
the meadow stream, and following the path¬ 
way of the sound went the maiden's strain¬ 
ing gaze, to rest on the water, which shot 
forth a faint, tender gleam. There had 
been work in her hands aiul a book upon 
her knee, but all had fallen to the floor, 
and her fingers unconsciously clutched 
the great masses of dark hair, drawing it 
over her bosotn like a scarf. She was half 
crouched, half knoeliug, her slender form 
leaning upon nothing but itself, and a look, 
part loneliness, part defiance, brooded over 
her features. 
And Minnie was dreaming—dreaming of 
the ocean, — fancying the white, distant 
Hash a gleam from some high-tossing billow, 
and the indistinct murmur an echo from 
the weary sea, complaining to the crags. 
Back as far as recollection bore her into the 
vague shadows of childhood, reached the 
longings for loveliness, and failing nearly 
all types of the real, her fertile brain caught 
every floating shadow and seasoned imagi¬ 
nation. 
How she slid into her musical name I can¬ 
not divine. Plain, straight-forward, useful, 
suggestive of nothing but angles, were her 
honorable parents, bearing about them, 
withal, a hinting of Quaker. Eighteen years 
previous to the date of my story they had 
ended their deliberation at the cradle-side 
by declaring ” the child shall be called 
Minerva;*’ sole witness to-day, family 
record; for by insinuating degrees the title 
which was certainly born with her gradually 
found grace before her parents' eyes, until 
from toleration they slipped into practice. 
THE LOWEST TYPE OF HUMANITY 
On the Island of Borneo has been found a 
certain race of wild creatures, of which kin¬ 
dred varieties have been discovered in the 
Philippine Islands, in Terra del Fuego, aud 
in South America. They walked unusually, 
almost erect on two legs, and in that atti¬ 
tude measure ubont four feet in bight. 
They are dark, wrinkled and hairy. They 
construct uo habitations, form no families, 
scarcely associate together, sleep in caves 
and trees, feed on snakes and vermin, on 
ants, eggs aud on each other. They cannot 
be tamed or forced to any labor, and are 
hunted and shot among the trees like the 
great gorilla, of which they are a stunted 
copy. When they are captured alive, one 
finds with surprise that their uncouth jab¬ 
bering sounds like articulate language. 
They turn up a human face to gaze at their 
captors, and females show instincts of mod¬ 
esty; and, in fine, these wretched beings 
are men. 
HOME CONVERSATION 
Children hunger perpetually for new 
ideas. They will learn with pleasure from 
the lips of their parents what they deem it 
drudgery tostudy in books; and even if they 
have the misfortune to be deprived of many 
educational advantages, they will grow up 
intelligent if they enjoy in childhood the 
privilege of listening daily to the conver¬ 
sation of intelligent people. We sometimes 
see parents, who are the life of every com¬ 
pany which they enter, dull, silent und un¬ 
interesting at home among their own chil¬ 
dren If they have not mental activity aud 
mental stores sufficiently for both, let them 
first use what they have for their own house¬ 
hold. A silent house is a dull place for youug 
people, a place from which they will escape 
if they can. now much useful information, 
on the other hand, is often given in pleasant 
family conversation, and what unconscious, 
but excellent mental training in lively so¬ 
cial argument. Cultivate, to the utmost, all 
the graces of home conversation.—Good 
Health. 
The Press. —The following is from a speech 
delivered by Dr. Chapin:—*‘I love to hear 
the rumbling of the steam power press bet¬ 
ter than the rattle and roar of art illery. It 
Is silently attacking and vanishing the Mala- 
koffs of vice and the Redans of evil; and its 
parallels and approaches cannot be resisted. 
I like the Click of the type in t he composing 
stick of the compositor better t han the click 
of the musket in the hands of the soldier. It 
bears a leaden messenger of deadlier power, 
of sublimor force, and of a surer aim, which 
will hit its mark, though it is a thousand 
miles ahead.” 
Mr. R. H. Stoddard, the poet-editor of 
The Aldine, one evening found some diffi¬ 
culty in finishing a poem that he had com¬ 
menced, and as he sat musing over it, his 
fancy wandered from the subject and found 
expression in these lines: 
Birds are singing ’round my window, 
Sweetest songs you ever hoard 
And I hang my cage there daily, 
But I nev er calCn a bird, 
So with thought* my brain is peopled, 
And they sing there all day long. 
But they will not fold their pinions 
In the little cage of song. 
Philanthropy is not religion, but there 
is no religion without philanthropy. He 
that is indifferent to the poor is no Chris¬ 
tian, no mat ter what his creed or his pro¬ 
fessed experience. How to care for the poor 
is another question. It is to be done not 
merely by feeding the hungry and clothing 
the naked, but yet more hy laws, and edu¬ 
cational and religious influences which ena¬ 
ble them to provide for themselves. 
No dust affects the eyes like gold dust, 
and no glasses like brandy glasses. 
