HE BUBAL MEW-YOBMER. 
JAH. 6 
seemed much affected by Idella’s remarks and 
liad trequent recourse to her pocket-handkerchief, 
In which she hid herface—but whether to conceal 
toars or smiles I could not Judge, until I saw her 
turn her face from Idelta toward me, and the clear 
moonlight, revealed an unmistakably mirthful ex¬ 
pression, convincing me that Jessie and Grey had 
contrived to make her and her husband also ac¬ 
cessory to the plot. 
Directly, Miss Vaughn exhibited a ring to the 
others—a handsome diamond, with rubles, which 
was an hclr-lootn In my family and was given me 
by my father. This Jewel J had permitted Idclla 
to wear, as she admired It; but I would as soon 
hat e thought cf selling my birthright as of giving 
that ting away permanently to any man, woman, 
or child, except my eldest son—when 1 have one. 
Judge, therefore, of my sentiments, when I saw 
Miss 1 doll a hold up her linger and heard her say: 
*' Ho gave me this ling as a pledge of his love, 
and bade mo wear it for bis sake. "It, will bo 
but a Just punishment for him If I keep It. 1 cer¬ 
tainly shall, it shall never leave my linger 
again!” 
“ Tile deuce It won't!" thought 1; and as I per- 
cetved the smile of satisfaction with which she 
regarded the glitter of the diamond in the moon- 
shine, 1 felt my love for her oozing out, like Dob 
Acres' courage, at a fearfully rapid rate. 
The opportunity did tot. come for me to explain 
matters to her and. In truth, 1 began to bo rather 
glad It didn’t. I retired that night without hav¬ 
ing spoken to her, and she did not haunt my 
visions. 
The next day the plot thickened. Jessie re¬ 
ceived several letters from Millstone Center, di¬ 
rected to her as my wlfu and to my care. Kndl- 
cott and his friends scrupulously called her by I 
After that I was still more tenderly loved than 
before. There was nothing too hard for Claude 
to do for me—no sacrifice too great for him, If It 
would add In the least to my comfort. No won¬ 
der, then, that I did not feel my deformity to be 
a trial. Mother taught us at homo till J was 
twelve years old, as It was too far from our home 
to the school for me to walk; but at that time 
father moved Into a village, and then It was de¬ 
cided that we were to attend school. I sluUnerer 
forget Ib-my first day at school. It was a rainy, 
dismal day, and the scholars, with the curiosity 
of childhood, had gathered at the windows to 
watch tho arrival of the new scholars. I don't 
know why It was, but some Instinct prompted mo 
to walk up the path behind Claude, and as we 
l neared the doorl heard ono of tho girls say: 
1 here, Milly, that s clacdk a krnox. Ain't he 
splendid I But oh, M iijlt, j ust look at * that hor¬ 
rid creature’ with him 1 Can It be that that Is the 
brother ho spoke of?" Claude beard It too. i 
saw his face redden and his fist clonch. Then lie ! 
turned to mo and his lips quivered as he said. I 
“ Don’t mind It, Doss. Father and mother and I 
will Jove you all the more. You won’t mind it, 
will you ?" I said no, but I did mind; and when,’ 
a day or two later 1 heard tho same girl say, •• I 
spelled that word wrong on purpose, Mu.lv, so 
os not. to stand next that horrid creature,” I mind¬ 
ed more than ever. 
But school and college days passed, with their 
many, many bitter trials, and wo were men. It 
was seldom that J went Into company; and when 
1 did, the sneers and neglect that I met with were 
so hard for me to bear that. I always determined 
not to go again. At nrst Claude overruled me, 
audl went to pleasohlm; aud then J met with 
one who did not sneer at mo, but was Kind and 
FRAU MUHLBACK. 
Frau Muhlbach, the novelist, is a very fat 
woman, about 60 years old, possessing a rubicund 
visage, bedecked with pearl powder. She Is fond of 
talking about her "dear mend, the Queen,” and 
is, on the whole, as self-contented a lady as ever 
luted nose. An American, who speaks German 
as well as he does English, was complimented by 
her upon this proficiency, and replied: “ I am 
very glad that I do, because—” and was here In¬ 
terrupted by a flourishing courtesy and a candled 
smile from tho good woman, who was perfectly 
certain that he wastgolng to say, "because lam 
thus enabled to read your books In the original.’’ 
Of course, after this deidonstratlon, the poor fel¬ 
low was obliged to finish that way, whereas he 
had intended to say something quite different. 
-A-M-- 
Lucinda Nancy Matilda Is tho name of a baby 
of whom Washington Warren o(*Grlffln, Ga.. aged 
seventy, Is father, and who is named after hl 3 
three deceased wives. 
(Tlir it'itrnuii Mo till 
my name and, worse than all, Idella began to. gentle ever, and, I thought, seemed to enjoy my 
take a romantic fancy to her. She condoled with company, so 1 went ofteuer, knowing I should 
heron having such a faithless husband, and pour- her. I learned to look forward to those 
ed all her own poetic griefs Into tho little hum- meetings as my happiest momenta. I had never 
bug's bosom—a flood or second-hand Werteilan hept a secret from Claude before; but J felt that 
sorrows, which moved Jessie to tears—Of laugh- 111,3 wa3 something of which 1 could not speak 
ter. even 10 hlm - 1 blly, and believedsbo loved 
Thus matters stood until the fourth day, when mo ‘ At last, one day, I told her of my love, and 
wo were to return. In the morning I got an op- mow did she receive It? 8Ue laughed at me. 
port unity to speak to Idella about It, and we had “ 1 hav0 P ,u ed you,” she said. "I do pity you. 
a Jolly timo or It. * caQ P 11 ^ a hunchback, but I cannot marry one." 
Mte would not listen to any explanation what- 0,11 ’- 1Us was the hardestblow of all, and I went 
ever; but abused mo like a pickpocket. I have home a wiser, as well as a sadder man. Kindness 
been scolded by a number of young ladles. In to mo meantplty, not love. A week or two after 
fact, I rather like It generally, and as for my Claude camo to me, his face radiant with happl- 
xmsln Jessie, It was as good as a supper to hear ne83 ’ afi he : 
ler vituperations. But Miss Vuughh wus one tpo "Congratulate me, Koss, Lily Sheppard has 
nany lor me. She whined and growled alter- i Promised to be my wife.” 
lately. She called me highfalutin names. She : “ I wish you all joy, Claude,” said I; but I felt 
.urned blue, yellow, and other unpleasant colors. that 1 could not stay to sec them, so I came away 
She squealed and hissed, and made herself an oh- from home—camo to the quiet old farmhouse, 
ect of wonderment, but hardly of admiration, to uw 'ay from my grief, or rather, as I now know, 
pilte a crowd that collected about us—lor It was dway from my old grief, only to find a new one. 
n an empty parlor that she first pitched Into me. Farmer Quinn and his wife have been very kind 
1 virago” was written In every line'of her coun- 1/0 me > an< ^ their daughter, HesterQulnn, has also 1 
Chance, and rang in every modulation of her hccnklnd; but kindness to mo means only pity, 
mice. r Jdw® learned to love Hester—ndt as I loved Lily, 
When she had finished she strode out of the bu twitha deep, deep love, that will never give 
oom, leaving me In a condition of severe mental place to another. I shall not tell her of my love, 
irostratlon. stl0 have no chance to laugh at my folly, In 
My previous affection for her, however, had en- feeling a wish that sheshould marry this “ horrid 
■lrely evaporated, and I recognized the truthful- creature.” 1 am going home. 1 can see Lily now 
less of my cousin Jessie’s description of her. without a pang; but not Hester. I have told 
On the boat, returning that afternoon. Miss here I am going, and to-morrow I shall see 
fatighn avoided me studiously—*s, in fact, i did 1 fester for the last time. Do you wonder that I 
er. Jessie and Grey were together on the deck r ° cl deformity to be to me a most terrible 
urtnff Min h n) r* niuslum nnd T nurwilf CUTS07 
take a romantic fancy to her. She condoled with 
her on having such a faithless husband, and pour¬ 
ed all her own poetic griefs into tho Utile hum¬ 
bug's bosom—a flood or second-hand Werteilan 
sorrows, which moved Jessie to tears—of laugh¬ 
ter. 
Thus matters stood until the fourth day, when 
wo were to return. In the morning 1 got an op¬ 
portunity to speak to Idella about It, and we had 
a Jolty time or It. 
Mie would not listen to any explanation what¬ 
ever; but abused mo like a pickpocket. I have 
been scolded by a number of young ladles. In 
fact, I rather Ilko It generally, and as for my 
cousin Jessie, It was as good as a supper to hear 
her vituperations. But Miss Vaughn wus one Ipo 
many lor me. She whined and growled alter¬ 
nately. She called me highfalutin names. She 
turned blue, yellow, aud other unpleasant colors. 
She squealed and hissed, and made herself an ob¬ 
ject of wonderment, but hardly of admiration, to 
quite a crowd that collected about us—lor It was 
In an empty parlor that she first pitched Into me. 
"Virago” was written in every Hue'of her coun¬ 
tenance, and rang in every modulation of her 
voice. 
When she had finished she strode out of the 
room, leaving me In a condition of severe mental 
prostration. 
My previous affection for her, however, had en¬ 
tirely evaporated, and I recognized the truthful¬ 
ness of my cousin Jessie’s description of her. 
On the boat, returning that afternoon. Miss 
Vaughn avoided me studiously—«s, in fact, i did 
her. Jessie and Grey were together on t ho deck 
during the whole passage, and I amused myself 
by smoking cigars forward, from the time of leav¬ 
ing the Tide-mill House pier to the time of land¬ 
ing at Milestone. 
1 never saw Miss Idella Vaughn again. I never 
wanted to. 1 would like to have got my ring 
back, but I fear my eldest male heir will not wear 
the jewel of his ancestors. 
I should be very much pleased to wind this story 
up with a wedding, but I cannot. There w as no¬ 
body married In our party except Endicoct's 
friends, and they had been married for three or 
four years. 
Grey returned to the city the following week 
aud went on a scries of short, sprees. My cousin 
stayed at home, flirting desperately with the vil¬ 
lage beaux at evening parties, and singing melo¬ 
dramatically in tho day-Ume. They both feared, 
as I suppose they still do, that they never should 
marry anybody; yer.Grey’s poverty and want of 
business talent prevented him from forming any 
engagement which might keep better—or rather 
richer—suitors from stepping In. 
1, however, am more hopeful, and devoutly be¬ 
lieve that one day I shall write another story 
about Grey and Jessie, and end it with orange 
flowers and white kids. 
— ■» »♦ 
THAT HOEHCD CREATURE, 
BY M. R. O. 
July 19, is—. 
How well I remember the time when first my 
misshapen and stunted body became a great and 
lasting grief to me! I had not minded It till then. 
At home I was more petted and caressed, and 1 
sometimes thought more loved, than my tall, 
well-formed and handsome twin-brother. Audi 
fancied It would be so everywhere. But when I 
was twelve yearn old I was suddenly undeceived 
on that score. 
My father and mother lived In the country. Our 
nearest neighbor was a mile away, and even there 
there were no children, so that my only playmate 
was Claude, my twin-brother. We were very 
different always. Claude was a tall, slender, 
fair-hatred, blue-e.ved boy. 1 was dark-skinned, 
dark-li 'ired, dark-eyed, tktek-aet and short of my 
aee even before that terrible accident, when I 
was three years old, that left me as I now am. 
July VO, J ti¬ 
lt Is noon, and I am still at Farmer Quinn's. I 
had finished my yesterday's journal, and sat 
under t his old elm tree thinking, when I heard a 
quick, light, step near me. 1 knew It was Hester, 
and I was sorry; for J did not caro to see her, lest 
1 should be betrayed into making known my love 
tor her, and she should laugb at me. She came 
and stood beside me. "Don’t get up,” she said, 
as I tried to rise; so I sat still, "lam sorry you 
aro going so Boon, Mr. Vernon,” said she. " Why 
have you changed your mind? You said you 
would stay till fall." 1 looked up, ready to tell 
her all. But, no, She was smiling down at me, 
and I thought there was mischief in her look. 
She, too, would laugh at me. So I made some 
evasive reply and sat silent. In a moment her 
soft band was brushing my hair gentlj' back from 
my brow, as 6he said, in a low voice: "There is 
something you want, to tell me, Koss. I saw it In 
your eyes, and you need not be afraid." No mat¬ 
ter what more passed between us then. Hester 
will be my wife tn September. She has just 
looked over my shoulder, and, reading what I 
have written, said: "Ross, was I wrong to help 
you out? Would It have been more womanly to 
have kept still, and let us both be unhappy all 
our lives, because you dared not say you loved 
me?” And I answered: "No, my darling, you 
did the most womanly thing possible.” And 1 
think she did. Don’t you ? 
- 4 - 4 ~*- 
TRANSMISSION OF HABITS IN ANIMALS. 
RECENT LITERATURE. 
Battles of tho American Revolution. Bv 
Henry b. Carrington, M. a., ll.d. New 
i urk: A, S. Barnes & Co. 
Just at the eloso of the Centennary of the 
United States and nearly following the termina¬ 
tion of a great war, when all were soldiers, a his¬ 
tory of t he battles of the Revolution from a mili¬ 
tary polntof view, could hardly fall to interest 
tho most indifferent citizen of this Republic. Il¬ 
lustrated with topographical maps and explicit 
Informa tion, as to tho situation of tho respective 
contending parties, It becomes doubly valuable to 
thB student of history and the retired soldier. 
The author has performed Ills work conscientious¬ 
ly, and the publishers have seconded his efforts 
with unusual zeal. The work is well written and 
beautifully issued. 
Philip Nolan’s Friends. By Edward K. Hall. 
.New l orit: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 
I Historical novels of America are comparative¬ 
ly unknown amongt.be good readable books. Here 
Is one which touches upon a point In the history 
of cur country but very little known, and which 
proposes to give a truthful account of the Inci¬ 
dents therein related as history. Therebo 
but little doubt that the " Philip Nolan" of this 
work had much to do with the present status of 
this country. 
Vine uud Olive s Or. Young America in Spain and 
Portugal. By Wm. T. Adams (•‘Oliver Optic”). 
Boston: Lee & Shepard. New York: Ch&s.T. Dil¬ 
lingham. 
Another of those Inimitable books of travel In 
foreign countries for which tho author has ul- 1 
ready made himself so famous. Thb rising gene¬ 
ration cannot fall to read It with both pleasure 
and profit, nor would It be safe to predict that the 
generation already risen would be displeased by 
Its perusal. 
Tbc> lli-lory of Liberty. By John K. Aiken. 
New York: A. S. Barnes A Co. 
This Is an attempt to show the processes by 
which various nations have gained what Is called 
liberty, through struggles both religious and po¬ 
litical, and succeeds In showing meansaDd results 
but proves nothing except tho glories of Ameri¬ 
can liberty, which many people to-day consider 
equivocal. 
The J fill ou« Wile. By Miss Julia Tardoe. 
Philadelphia : T. B. Paterson A Bros. 
This work ts one of sustained Interest to the 
reader of novels. The author has woven a tale of 
love and Jealousy which can be read with little 
profit but much pleasure. 
torinur i Or Italy. By Madame De Stael, Phil¬ 
adelphia: T. B. Poteieon A Bros. 
Tub author’s reputation as a French novelist 
has gone the world over, the has been translated 
into almost every modern tongue, and this work 
Is one of her masterpieces. 
Improved Diary.—The Marginal Indexed Dla- 
rj% or Dally Record Book, published by the Erie 
Publishing Co., Erie, Pa., is a very complete 
thing. It Is convenient either for the pocket or 
desk, and being perpetual, Is good for any year or 
at any time of the year. There Is an Index of 
months across the foot of the page, and an index 
of days for each month at the side which enables 
the user to turn Instantly to any date desired. It 
also contains an Alphabetical Index for classify¬ 
ing tho subject matter of the book, besides thirty 
pages of valuable tables and useful information. 
The price Is $2 per copy, sent postpaid by the pub¬ 
lishers ; also for sale by stationers. 
- ♦♦ ♦ - 
BOOKS RECEIVED. 
From T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Phlla., Pa.: 
Leah, by Dr. Mosenthal. (Paper; 50cts.) Ru¬ 
pert Hall, by Mrs. Wood. (Paper; 25 cts.) 
J. B. LirANcorT & Co., Phlla., Pa.: 
Tbo Century—Its Fruits and Its Festival, by 
E. C. Bruce. (Illustrated. Cloth; 8vo.—pp. 
252.) 
o. Judd Co., New York: 
Potato Pests, by Prof. Riley. 
O. Ditson & Co., Boston, Mass.: 
World of Song—Songs, Ballads and Duets. 
California Horticulturist. 
Annual Reg. ot Rural Affairs. 
A correspondent of Nature, resident of New 
Zealand, communicates to that Journal several 
instances of the transmission of habits to off¬ 
spring In animals. One instance Is that ot a mare 
who would wander away from the " mob ” of 
horses to which she belonged, always seeking one 
particular creek. When released from work she 
woulk make off to her favorite feedlng-greund by 
herself- One ef her progeny some years after¬ 
ward showed a similar liking for sol ltude. Again, 
a valuable mare was an Incorrigible kicker. She 
transmitted her vice to heroffsprlng. Peculiarity 
in the form of the hoof has been transmitted to 
generation after generation. Tho same writer 
states that a particular strain of Dorking fowls, 
which he has had In his possession for thirty 
years, always show a restless desire of rambling. 
} IT IS STRANGE. 
p 
Strange how very blight a token 
Tells us of a promise broken. 
When distrust is nigh. 
1 Strange how all life’s currents deepen, 
And its joys uud pleasures cheapen, 
1 As tho years go by. 
r 
Strange how thick a veil will cover 
, All the faults of friend or lover, 
When they hold the heart. 
Strange how slight a breath will lift it, 
! And bow light a breeze will rift it. 
When they fall apart. 
Strange how schools of scandal gather 
In the roughest of all weather— 
Truths are far between. 
Strange how many flowers of beauty 
Blossom in the paths of duty. 
That aro never seen. 
Strange how youthful pardons linger, 
While old Time with warning finger 
Turns onr locks to snow. 
Ntrangehow often hopes will brighten, 
And how tomin r* flash and lighten. 
Conquered long ago. 
Strange how small a thread can tangle 
All the web of life, and strangle 
Good and Mine intent. 
Strange how love can lighten losses, 
And how few of all our crosses 
Are from Heaven sent. 
[Clara B, Heath. 
■ - 4 -*~*- 
WRITERS OF BOOKS ARE WE. 
Yea, writers of books. Each one, old, young 
and middle-aged, writers of books. He wlio has 
seen his t lirce-score and ten, whose form is bent 
and tottering; bo Whoso lLfo lias been a broad 
beam ot sunshine, kindled by a Saviour’s lovo; as 
be who Is still young, with the future beckoning, 
ever beckoning him onward to what seems to 
him brighter goals; tho mother, whose hair is 
silvery-white, aud whose wrinkled brow tells tho 
story of a Hie of toll; the maiden also, with tho 
pure blush tint of Innocence, and the loving heart 
that Isas j’et untnluted by wrong—all—all writers 
ot books. Authors of a life-history, not only of 
one, but one connected with many. Wc cannot 
live alone. Our thoughts, our words, our deeds 
do not return to ourselves, but are unceasingly 
drilling about us and casting their Influence "pon 
those around us. Ah! that Influence—that Look. 
Fathers, whose eyes may glance over these 1' aes, 
may 1 ask you, What Is your Influence? Are you 
saying to your sons, now growing up, Come, fol¬ 
low me, as I follow CHRIST ? Mothers, what words 
have been written on the leaf of to-day In your 
history? A leaf that has told for .Jxtcs? Will 
the reading of this leaf help to bring your chil¬ 
dren up higher ? Arc wo using with all our power 
the talent God has given U8? Do wc write as for 
our very lives? 
” The piled sands of life aro falling fast. 
Tune tells our busy pulses one by one, 
And shall our work, so needful and so vast, 
Be all completed, or but lust begun. 
When twilight shadows veil life’s dim, departed sun * 
Awake to effort, while tho day Is shining, 
The time to labor wifi not always last, 
And uo regret, repentance nor repining 
Can bring to at again the buried Past. 
“ The smallest bark on life’s tumultuous ocean 
Will leave a track behind forev ermore; 
The lighter t wave of influence set in motion 
Extends and widens to tho Eternal shore; 
We should be wary then, who go before 
A myriad yet to be, and we should take 
Our bearing carefully, where breakers roar 
And fearful tempests gather, one mistake 
May wreck unnumbered barks that follow in our 
wake.” 
•- 
The fifth Old Catholic Congress was held In 
Breslau, Sept. 22 , and lasted threa days. Tho 
subject of the abolition of clerical celibacy, which 
was postponed by the last synod, came up again 
on the petition of parish councils, a proposal 
was adopted, enlarging the scope of the Bonn 
Conference, so as to embrace in 1 1 proposals for 
union with all German Protestants. The Intro¬ 
duction of a liturgy wholly in the national 
tongue, which has been for several years prom¬ 
ised, was strongly urged. There were seventy 
delegates in attendance at the Congress. 
—- -4 4 4 - 
CHINESE MAXIMS. 
“ The sage does good as he breathes-lt Is his 
life.” 
"One may be decorous without being cha 3 te; 
but one cannot be chaste without being decor¬ 
ous." 
" My books speak to my mind, my friends to my 
heart; all the rest to my ears." 
" Thb wise man does not speak of all he does, 
but he does nothing that cannot be sjxiken of.” 
"Attention to small things Is the economy of 
virtue.” 
“ Raillery Is the lightning of calumny.” 
“ Man may bend to virtue, but virtue cannot 
bend to man. 
"Repentance Is the spring of virtue.” 
“Virtue does not give talents, but it supplies 
their place. Talents neither give virtue nor sup¬ 
ply the place of It.” 
“ The minds of women are of quicksilver, and 
their hearts of wax.” 
“The most curious women willingly cast down 
thelr.eyes to be looked at.” 
