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While dressing the next morning the occu- pants of the next mom. who seemed to be man and “ife. Were having one of those little domestic altercgaions which will sometimes occur even in the bat regulated families. and as the partitions betwwn the rooms were wonstmctcd (as they he quuntlfy are in {our new mining towns) simply of muslin, the conversation " soaked through” a. little; so to speak, into the neighboring rooms. The lady was evidently petitioning for some ftivorâ€" possibly a. new bonnetâ€"that her lord and master was not willing to grant. A new Colonial industry has, according to the Colonies and India, been startrdat Christ- church,‘,New Zealand â€"the distilmion of ucelic acid, thereby uninzmg l-he timber cleared One cord of wood Will produce thirty six gal- lons of crude acid, worth in England one shilling and sixpen ce pt rpallon. At the beginning of last. month the Eastern of France Railway station, Paris, was illumin med by the Lastin system of electric light- ing. After having received a fair trial in the goods station. the electric liqht has ale.» been adopted in the passenger station of the Lyons anfl Mediterranean Company. bAll brdinnry phokographs are apt to fade by long expoaure to light, and cannot be easily redeveloped by chemical meanst A varuvsh for roots has recently been put. ented in Germany which is composed of thir- ty-five pans of clay slate, thirty parts mica slate. and thirty-five parts rosin, all finely powdered and heated with fifty parts of tar. For articles of rubber'which have beoome hard and brittle, Dr. Pol recommends the following treatment: immerse the articles in a. mixture of water of ammonia. one part, and water two parts. for a. time varying from a few minutes to an hour. according to the oir~ cumstances of the case. When the mixture has acted enough on the rubber it will be found to have recovered all its elasticity. smoothness and softness. Ink to which sugar is added will not dry up rapidly. __ A patent has been taken by Mr. Hansen of Philadelphia for a. novel car starter, which stores up the momentum of the car when stopped, by means of e spiral spring, in such a manner that when the horses begin to pull it is immediately proprelled about a yard for~ ward ; and the horses. instead of wasting their strength by a. pull against the usual dead weight. require to apply little more force than when the car is in full motion. To remove fruit and wine stainsâ€" especially pesoh and claret â€"â€"from table linen, moisten with dilute sulphuric acid, and than rub with a strong aqueuus solution of sulphite or by- posulphite of sodium; or soak for a short time in a strong aqueous solution of bleaching powderâ€"calcium hypoohloriteâ€"press out ex- cess of the liquid, and immerse in dilute sul- phuric acidâ€"one part to ten of water; rinse in cold water, dip in hyposulphite of sodium solution, and afterwards wash out thoroughly in hot water. With a. single telephone held, say, to the the right ear. the transmitted voice appears to come from a. distance to the right ; while with a telephone held to the left ear. it seems to arrive from the left of the listener. With a telephone to each ear, if one ear be less sensitive than the other‘ or if the telephone be held farther from that ear, the voice ap- parently shifts to the side of the other ear ; and, it both ears hear alike and both instru- ments are equally near their respective ears, the voice apparently proceeds from in front of the observer. The fuel that nutmegs have strong narcotic properties has long been known, but they are in such common use as a favorite condiment used in small quan ities that their dangerous nature when taken in large quan ity is apt to be overlooked and forgotten. even by those who are aware of their tendency. Nutmeg in the quantity of two or three draehmas has been known to produce both stupor and dellrium ; and dangerous and fatalcon‘ sequences are said to have followed its free use in India. Mace, the outside covering of the nuxmeg, possesses essentially the same properties. A Western paper relates the following : A gentleman interested in mmmg,lmd occasion to spend a night during last summer in the principal hotel in one of the new railroad chies at Southern Colorado. The mingled afiection and threats of this speech were too much for our friend. He roared in laughter, and the man‘s words and the woman’s soba at once ceased beyend the partition. 'When all other arguments failed to move him she took up woman’s last. and strongest -â€"tears; and for some time nothing but her sobs were heard. The gentleman was obdu- rate, but as “ constant drops " will even " wear away a. stone." they finally moved him to words which came emphatically as follows : “â€"- you, darling, if don’t stop that crying I’ll whip you.” An hour later, as our friend passed through the hotel office. he was stopped by wfine looking six footer, whose neat mustache, in a. country where all men but. gamblers wear full beatds.as well as his blue lie, while flannel suit corded and. trimmed with blue silk. gay slippers. etc., bespoke him one of the fraternity, and who addressed him as foi- lows: “ I as. sinhave ou the room next _ I mine 2" The owner of the darling stood revealed, and the fact was equally plain chat he was disposed to call to account the individual who had been bold enough to laugh at his family discipline. The answer, however. showed an equal readiness to meet the responsibility, it nec» essary, being simply: “ I don't know. Are you the man who was going to whip his darling?" The reply and the laugh that accompanied it carried the day, and an invitation to “ take a drink, air," was the immediate result in- stead of “ pistols for two.” Of the many curious things certain to be i seen at the forthcoming exhibition of electri- ‘ city at Paris, not the least remarkable will be the electrical cooking range of M. Sslignac. That ingenious gentleman is going to fit up his apparatus in the grill room of the restaur- ant, and intends to furnish a. great variety of meats which have been cooked by heat gen- erated mm the electric current. At the last Paris exhibition, M. Mouchot roasted mutton in condensed sunshine, and literally turned his spit on the hearth of the sun; but an enthusiastic admirer might say that M. Selig- nac had far surpassed this in nrmling steaks by lightning and warming coffee With the aurora borealis. As a matter of fact the elec- tric current is as well fitted to produce heat as it is to pro :uue light, and just as electricity wi l, in all probability, be made to yield the principal artificial light of the future, so will doubtless it be applied to household heating. The same machines which light the house by night will heat and cauk by day, besides per- forming other duties. such as driving a eofiee mill or a sewing machine. â€"The French Cha; el, King sweet, London, has been disestablished, the £140 hitherto contributed by the French Guvernment ar- pew rents for the Embuasy and Uonaulale Staff being stopped This probably involves the closing of a chapel where, since 1793, an French exiles have found spiritual and tem- poral aid. â€"Half the romance of traveling in Ireland has hitherto lain iu the necessity of occasional 1y making one’s self uncomfortable in an Irish jauntmg car ; but the modern appliances of locomotion are extending over the Green Isle, and it is now proposed to build a horse rail- road to :he Giant‘s Causeway. - â€"Prof. Proctor says this world will dry up in about fifty millions of ye us. Wonder if he means that it will take that long to abolish drinks by prohibition? THE original electric oil as prepared by Briggs dc Sons is more precious than gold. as it.will stop pain and suflerlng. COOKING BY ELECTRICITY. HOW HE MANAGED HER SCIENTIFIC. The following beautiful creation of poetic genius was composed by James Young, M. P. P. and read by him, amul solemn silence, inter: runted by sympathetic s. bs, at the Blake banquet at Toronto. There was not a. dry mouth in the room: Oh, the old house at home, When yhung I loved and roamedâ€" I felt that I must. go and pass it bv Before grim death should close my eye. The lilac bushes, locusts and humbler poplars A dense forest made ; The old house stoud in solemn silence So lonely in the shade. Awe, see that shame dog at the door, Just where old Tige stood years before He never came and welcomed me As old Tige did in his great glee. I fancied I could see our foot-tracks, And thu» just yesterday we playedâ€" I could not; think it possible That years since we had. strayed. ‘Twas in the early mouth of May, My heart was sad, so blight a. dayâ€" No mother came to meet, me at the gate And said, “ 011, James, you come so late." Oh! the old sense of feeling Creeps o’er me still- My houses and carriage at the gateway, They stood there at their W111. And I looked around the lot Just. whexe us children played, And fancied I could see me very spots And all the marks we made. But. alas ! they walked no more under the shady trees Nor hid o’r played under the old sod wall ; Shadows and solemn silence and sadneai Were hanging over all. The birds sang in the branches Their sweet, familiar songs, But the voices of the dear “1198 They were all dead und flown. So I Wheeled my horse and carriage, Resolved no more I Would see, For in my huart was all I could manage Of flu“ and misery. (Cheers). THE GAMBLER'S LAST DEAL. Beyond the balsam thicket the gambler made his staucli Carson, the detective, was in full puns-mt, and as he burst through the balsems he found himself within twenty feet. of his antagonist. Both men stood for an instant, each looking full at the other. Both were experts. Each one knew the other. “ You 00min,” said the gambler, coolly. “ One, two,” said the detective. “ three, Fire l” "You’ve won; you needn’t deal again,” said the gambler. And he dropped. The red stain on his shin front showed when» he was hit. " L‘uere‘s some lint and bandage," said the deteamve. and he flung a small package into the gambler’s lap. "1 huge you Won’t die. Dick R1ywond." “ On, "it was all fair, Carson." said the other carelessly. “ I‘ve held a. poor hand from the start.” The detective rushed on. Twenty rods further be caught up with me trapper. who was calmly recharging his piece. 011 the edge of the ledge above the half breed lay dead. the lips drawn back from hla teeth, and his ugly countenance distorted with hate and rage. A rifle, the muzzle of which was smok- ing. lay at his side; and the edge of the trupper’e ear was bleeding. One pistol sounded. The gambler’s had failed to explode! “ I’ll go and see the boy.” answered the trapper. “ You’ll find Harry furder up. There’s only two runnin’. You and he can bring ’em (”I’ve L-hot Dick RaymZmd by the balsam thicket," said the detective, "I‘m afraid he’s hard hit.” The old trapper saw, as he descended the hill the body reclining on the moss at the edge of the balsam thicket. “ You’ve won the game, old man.” The trapper for a moment made no reply. He looked steadfastly into the young man‘s countenance ; fixed his eyes on the red stain on the left breast. “ I be sorry for ye, boy," replied the old man, “ for life be sweet to the young, and I wish that yer years might be many upon the earth.” “ Is it. my last. deal, old man 2" asked the gamlglgar, carelqssly. “ I fancy there's a. good many who will be glad to hear I’m out. of it." was the re- Sponse. “ I don‘t doubt ye have yet faults. boy." answered the trapper, “ and I dare say ye have llved loosely and did many deeds that were better undid, but the beat upe of life be to learn how to live, and I feel sartiu ye d have got. betxer as ye got older. and made the last. belt of yer hie wipe out the fast so thut the figure fur and agin ye would have balanced in the iedgment." “ You aren’t foul enough to believe what the hypocritical church members talk, are you, John Norton 7 You don’t believe there’s ajudgmem day, do you 1” “ I don't knew much about church mem- bers,” answered the trapper, “ for I’ve never been in the settlements; leastwise I've never studied the habits of the ereturs. and I dare say they difi‘er, bein’ good. and bad and I‘ve seed some that was sartinly vaga- bonds. No, I don’t know much about church members, but I ssrtinly believe ; yis‘ I know there be a day when the Lord shall jedge the living and the dead ; and the honest trapper shall stand one side and the vagabond that pilfers his skins and steals his traps shall stand on the other. This is what the book says, and it sartinly seems reasonable ; for the deed he did on earth be of two sorts, and the folks what do ’em be of two kinds, and attween the two. the Lord if he knows anything must make a dividm’ line.” “ And w} an do you think this judgment is T ” asked the gambler. as if he was actually enjoying the crude but honest Ideal of his companion. 7 Tile supper hesitated a moment before he spoke, then_hq saidt : ~ h I ouncritthat the judgment be always on. It‘s a. court that never adjournsmnd the deser- ters and the knaves and the diaobedie ntiu the regiment be always on trial. But I conceit mere comes a any to every man. good and bad, when the record of his deed be looked over from the start. and the good and had counted up ; and in that day he gets the fiual judgment whether ’it be for or against him. And now, buy,” continued the old man. 501- emnly, with a touch of infinite tenderness in his Vibrntlons of his VulO-‘, “ ye be nigh the judgment dayyourself. and the deeds we have .nd, bmh the good and the b3d,willbe passed in review.” " The court he a court of mercy : and the judge looks upon ’em that comes up for trial as if he was their father." “ That ends it,” answered the gambler. ~‘ My father never showed me any mercy when I was a buy. If he had, I shouldn‘t have been here now. If I did a. wrong dead, I got it to the last inch of the last.” and the words were more intensely bitter because spoken so quietly._ ,. . 1-! “I reckon there isn’t much chance for me if your view is sound.” And for the first time his tone lost ltd cheerful reckless- ness. ‘~ The fathers of the ’arth, boy. be not like the father of heaven, for I have seed ’em cor- rect xheir children beyond reason, and wnh- ouu marcy. They Whippet} in their rage and VOL. XXIII. AN AFFECTING POEM. HOME IN CHILDHOOD DAYS. i not in their wisdom ; they whipped because lthey were strong, and not because of their love; they whipped when they ’nrntâ€"the hatred of their children. But the father of heaven be difiereut. boy. He knows that men be weak as well as wicked. he knows that half of ’em haven‘t had a fair chance, land so he overlooks much; and when he i can‘t overlook it, I conceit he sorter forgives I in a. lump Yes, he subtracts all he can from the evil we have did, boy, and If that isn’t . enough to satisfy his feelm’s toward a. man i that might have been diflerent ef he’d only had a. fair start. he just wipes the whole row ’17 of figures cleanrout at the askin». “ At the asking ‘2" said the gambler. “ that’s a’mighty quick game. Did you ever pray_?” A “ Surtin, I be a. prayin‘ man,” said the trapper. sturdily. “ Uan you pray in words 2’” For a. moment the trapper hesitated. Then he said: “ I can’t say that I can. No, I sar- tinly can’t say that I coold uniertake it with any reasonable chance of gettin' through ; leastwise, it wouldn’t be in a way to help a man any.” “Is tBere any way in which we could go partgers 7 ‘ askefijuhe gamble; “ I was thinkin‘ of that,” answered the trapper, “yis, I was thinkin’ at we couldn’t sorter jine works, and each help the other by doin' hle own part himself. Yee,’ contmued the old men, after a moment's reflection. “ the plan is a. good oneâ€"ye pray for yerself and I’ll pray for myself ~and ef I can get in anything that seems likely to do ye service, ya can count on it as ye can on a. grooved barrel.” “And now, boy," said the trapper, with a sweetly solemn enthusiasm, such as faith might give to a. suppéicaziug saint, “ now. my boy. remember the Lord is Lorduf the woods as well as of the cities, and that He heareth the prayin’ of the hunter under the pines, as well as the preacher in the pulpit, and that when sins be heavy and death nigh, His ear and heart be open." The two opened their eyes nearly at the same instant. They looked for a. moment at. each other, and then the gambler feebly llfted his hand,and put it. into the broad hand of the Mapper. Not a. Word was said No word was needed. Sometimes men understand each other better thm by talking. Then the gam- bler picked the diamond stud from the spot where n. rested, slipped the solitary ring from his finger, and said, as he handed them to the trapper: The trapper knelt on the moss at the gnmbler’e feet. He clasped the fingers of his great hands until they inttrlaoed, and lifted his wrinkled face upward. He said not a. word, but the strongly chiseled lips, seamed with age. meved and twitched now and then, and, as the silent prayer went on, two great tears left the protection of the closed lids and rollr‘d down his rugged cheek. " There’s a. girl that. will like these. You Will find but picture inside my vest, when you bury me. Her address is inside the picture case. Will you take them to her ?” The gambler alau clased his eyes‘ then his hands quietly stole one into the other. and, avoiding the blood stem, rested on hm hm est: and thus the old man who had lived beyond the iimlt of man’s day, and the young one, out down at the threhhold of mature lifeâ€"the one kneeling on the mosses, with his face turned towmd the same sky. without word or uttered speech prayed to the divine mercy which beyond the sky saw the two men un derneath the pines. and met, we may no doubt, with needed answer the silent, upgoing prayer. “ You needn‘t disturb the picture,” said the gambler. " it‘s just as well, perhaps. to let it he where it is, it‘s been there eight yenrsfi’ ” She shill have them from my own hand," answgred thertrappef grqvegy. For several minutes there was silence. The trapper took the gambler’s hand, as if it had been the hand of his own boy. Indeed, per- haps the young man had found his father at last ; for surely it isn’t flesh that makes fatherhood. Once the young man moved as if he would rise. Had he been able he would have died with his arms around the old man‘s neck. As it was, the strength- was unequal to the impulse. He lifted his eyes to the old man’s face lovingly ; moved his body as if he would get a little nearer, and as a child might speak a loving thought aloud, said, "I am glad 1 met you, John Nor- ton," and with the saying of the sweet words. he died. In the Caledonian Mercury, in newspaper old as the days of the hestoration, but now ex- tinct, under (late December 28, 1734, will be found the following obituary : “ 0n Satur. day was se’night. died at Balquhidder, in Perthshire, the famous Highland partisan, Rob Roy.” Such is the simple notice of the death of that famous Highland cateran and outlaw, with whom history, romance, and the drama have made us so familiar. Yet it was only some ten years before the Red Macgregor departed his life in peace, dying in bed, wrth his claymore in his hand, and a piper playing beside him, and was buried at the end of the pretty little church of Belqnhidder, that the danger alieing to good government from hav- ing a rude and wail ke race mustering some 50 000 fighting men, more especially in the north Western parts of Scotland impressed upon the Ministry of George I. the necessity 01 forming roads to open up the country of the clans, of erecting a chain of forts, of launching an armed galley on Lochness. and of raising those paid companies wnich (though numbered first as the 431, and subsequently the 42d. Foot) are still named “ The Black Watch," from the hue of their tartan, and of disarming ihe Highlanders, or certain tribes of them ; and these ardous tasks were assign- ed to George Wade, 8. brigadier of Anne’s wars. and a field marshall of 1743. There were ordered. for the primary measures of disarming the clans in the neighborhood of Branan Uastle, four regiments of infantryâ€" Colonel Henry Graves‘ (now 10th Foot). Major u‘ereral Whetham's, (now 12th Foot). George Grave's (now 19th Foot), and the Scots Fusiliers (now 2lst Foot) v with six com. ‘ panics cf the Black Watch. Save the last named, these troops were revieWed by George 1 I.. on Salisbury Plain, on the 30th August, E 1722. He harangued them.in his broken English, in the same terms as if they had to penetrate into the passes of Khoord ()aliul or the Hindoo Conrh. instead of the northern I portion of the United Kingdom, for wliil h 1 they began their march, a. long and certainly l arduool journey, by the rough roads of these i pro-railway times.â€" From “ British Battle: on | Land and, tea." â€"The quantity of milk used in English manufactming establishmentsis enormous In certain classes of pignem-printing work.which is indeed a species of paintingâ€"the colors being laid on the face in an insoluble condi- tion, so as to present a full, bvilliaut face â€"- milk has b+en found a convenient and economical vehicle for efi'ucting the pro cess : Woolen manufacturers. also have long made great use of a mixlure of olive oil and milk, the animal fat in the latter furnish- ing an element of more poweiful effect upon the woolen fibres than purely vegetable oil alone. â€"Just as the physicians made up their minds that, Lord Braconnfield would recover he indulges in one of those surprises for which he was famous, and died. THE DEATH OF ROB ROY. RICHMOND HILL, THURSDAY, MAY 5, 1881. In 1846. after we were settled in our Lon. don lodgings. we sent a letter of introduelion for Margaret Fuller, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Spring and son, to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Carlyle. They called, and we were out ; but soon a note name inviting us to tea. While Margaret. and I were taking ofi our wraps, they opened the parlor door and asked Mr. Spring in. Seeing one gentleman when they expected two, they supposed it was the son. When we entered, and they saw t. «it neither could be the mother, they said, laughing : “ We thought we were to see elderly people and a. son ; we are glad than you are young.” Margaret Fuller related some droll stories about people. and Mr Carlyle laughed hearti- ly. His laugh was simply delicious. He said that on their way back from Scotland they at? tended one of Father Mathew’s temperance meetings. He spoke enthusxaetieally of this man’s power over his audience. and of how he drew the helpless, unresisting drunkards for‘ ward by his magnetic fervor to eign the pledge. He told of one poor old woman who had been persuaded from her seat into the aisle by some powerful word. Then she re- treated, again was drawn forward, and again and again drew back, wavering between salva- tion on one side and damnation on the other. At last the effective word was spoken. and the poor creature sprang forward,‘ and saved her soul. After we left them Margaret said “ I went to see a lion. and I have seen a lamb.”- One evening Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle and Maz- zini came to tea at our rooms. Mrs. Carlyle and I were talking on one side of the parlor, the others on the Other, when I heard some growling from Mr. Carlyle about the ignorance and brutishness of the slaves, and he declared that since they were contented as slaves they were not fit for freedom. I rose to cross tne roam, when Margaret laughed and said, “ I have been wondering how long Rebecca would hear it.” I reminded him 0! the severe penâ€" alties which yet could not prevent the slaves from learning to read, and how. in spite oi guards, fetter-s, frozen feet, and blood hounds and great hardships, they constantly escaped into free States. There was no fugitive slave lawthen to be thrown into my face. We told him stories of intelligence, patience,and cour- age in these fugitives ; to all of which he lisâ€" tened. olten saying, heartily: " I am glad to bear it.” His mood was quite changed when he rose to hand us at cups of tea. Our stay in London was brief, but before leaving We difltd at the Carlylee’. Fiveheurs at table, Gar yle full of talk. George LeWcs was there to draw him out. and to cheer him on and to talk splendidly [timer-ll. That Was a happy, enchanted time. Uarlylerailv (1 about pmtu and poetry, made fun of Petrarch, Laura, Boccaceiu and' others. He said : “ There was Robert Burns. the greatest .man that ever liVed: he sat and sang. bothered his been over his poor exvine accuunte, drank whiskey, and broke his heart at last.” Some- thing w ts said about Elizabeth. Barrett and Robert Browning. Carlyle said she had sent him two volumes of poems ; he said he wrote Miss Barrett that ‘v‘ If she had anything to say she had better put it into plain prose, so a. body could understand it, and nnt trouble herself to make rhymes. But,” he langhingly said, “ the woman felt so badly about it that I had to write again.” Doubtlese he put in that second letter some of his great Scotch heart. When our lintle boy said "Good night,”and kissed all the others, he stood hesiuuting a. moment. not knowing exactly what to do With this strange man ; and Carlyle, looking at him from under his eyebrows, smilcd the sweewat of smiles. and Opening hlfi nrms took the little fellow m his heart. Mru. Carlyle, Sitting by me. and looking at this picture, said : “ how I wish we had such u child in our house ?” The awning. whmh at one Lime looked rather stormy, ended must cordially and happily. While taking 00396 in the parlor after din- ner, Mr. Carlyle sat on a. low seat by the fire, and talked pictures more wonderful than anything in his French Revolution. And when we came away that night. Margaret said, “ Now 1 have seen the lion." Some one talking to Carlyle of Margaret Fuller’s intellect and attainments he said: " Yes, yes; that is well; but does she take care of her stockings 7" I could have an- swered that she did. She was like the lady in the old play. who, planning how she should keep the sfiection of her husband when she found one. said, “ I would every day be as clean as a bride.” Atter eight years we were again in London, and we received kind messages and invitations from the Uarlyles. We were glad to see his lovely eyes, to have his warm shake of the hand, and to hear again his pleasant voice with its hearty “I am glad to see you." I can hardly believe that the tall, large Scotchman could have dwindled down to the prototype of the pictures we see of him now. He charged M15. Carlyle not to let me leave London until I had taught her how to make a Johnny cake. I therefore had one on my table the day she and Mazzini came to dine. Mrs. Carlyle came in the morning and staid until night. and much interesting talk we had. She was a levely, graceful woman. and made the house in Gheyne row bright with her sweet presence. She loved to talk about Carlyle, and told numberless stories about him in a most charm- ing manner. The light went out of Carlyle’ 3 life when his wife died. A curious trial at the Paris Court of Assizes was concluded on the 30th ult. The accused. who ”is 39 years of age, was a person calling herself the Barronne de Diverniere, nee de Graves. of stylish appearance. She was ac- cused of badyetealing and false declarations. The London limes says that in 1867 she “as condemned, under the name of Martin, to a year’s imprisonment for obtaining goods under false prelences, and while in prison made the acquaintance of a ceriain Mme. Bonton, who had been sent there for selling indecent photo- graphs, and who was captivated by her grand airs. On leaving St. Lazare the accused went to stay with Mmu. Benton, and while there formed the sehemH of marrying Mme. Bomon‘s son. aboy of 17 years of age, with whom, however, she set up house without marriage, Mme Benton not being well dis- posed towards her guest’s project. The ac cused did not abandon the Idea, and soon simulam d pregnancy, f )llOWé’d by a pretended confiurnient at. a concierge's lodre and the actual production of a newly born infant to a happy father. She had obtained the child thumb the agency of an attendant at a lying in hospital frtm one of the patients, who, however, was sufficiently Interested in her offspring to web 10 have news of it from its adopter. The accused. having got pos- s'suion of the child, did herself up to look pale and Week, and so returned home and went to bed. The district doctor called. the child was registered. and young Bomon discovered an extraordinary resem- blance of the child to his mother. Mme. Bun- ton. who was duly informed of it. He agreed to change his name to M. de Graves and set up a comfortable home for aged gentlemen, and everything proceeded quietly, except. that the child died. The infant’s mother mean- while not having recsived the promieed news, communicated with the police, and. on the accused at length writing to her announcing the death of thee ild, the police were able to discover her whereabouts and arrest her. She RECOLLECTIONS 0F CARLYLE. A CURIOUS TRIAL IN FRANCE. (M r9. Marcus Spring in Harper's Bum.) was also accused of stealing another child in ’a. similar way, giving heiself out as a. midwife who was charged by a husband to find a baby to place by the side of his wife, who was cer~ tain to be confined with a stillborn child. What had become of this child had not been discovered. The accused stated that she was a. dramatic author. had written books, and taught English. She declined to state her origin and mm cedents in order to save the honor of the family. Her husband, she said, was dead, but she had three children, one of whom was 15 years of age. At this part of the interrogatory she much afi'ected the audience by shedding abundant tears and sob- bing. Her children were in France at her tetherinduw’s. In 1860 she went to London. and on her return she had considered herself unworthy to see them. The jury found her guilty with extenuating circumstances. and she was sentenced to six years’ penal servitude and ten years’ police supervision. A correspondent writes: I trust you will allow me through your columns to make known one or two facts concerning the very alarming telegraphic intelligence which has reached London as to an alleged conflict on the TuniSian frontier. Every onewho has resided in the regency of Tunis knows that between that country and Algeria there is a narrow strip of country covert-d with dense forests which is essentially " No Man’s Land,” as far as both countries are concerned. This district begins with the coast between Algerian Lacalle and Tunisian Tabarca, and is peopled by several warlike tribes. amongst them the Khoumis, which neither the Bey of Tunis nor the Governor of Algeria has ever been able to completely conquer. The inhabitants of these hills. which are barely fifteen miles across. and stretch fitty or sixty miles inland, carry on a guerilla warfare, sometimes against Tunisian and sometimes against Algerian tribes and oulv pay tribute when forced to do so. Under ordinary circumstances these ma. rauders are effectually held in cheik under a mutual arrangement both by French and Tunisian troops. but whenever a special grievance is sought for against the Bey by Fra ce, recourse is inVariably had to an alleged razzia on the frontier. In reality, the Bey uf [unis is no more responsible for these occasional disorders than the Governor General of India would be for a raid commit- ted by some nomadic tribes on the borders of the Empire Mohammad Bey is honestly endeavming against every odds to preserve his country from French annexation. or at least a French prottctoraie. All the tt-le graphic communication with his dominious in in French hands, and when we observe that these very telegrams, while referrtng to the Khuumis actually endeavoring to connect his government by implication with an outrage c immitted at Ouarga. which is situated far away in the Sahara. and 600 mlltB from the Tuni~iun frontier. I let-1 sure the public in England Will reserve its judgment until we are in po>ses<iun of more reliable and authentic information. A man, a desk, a room. The man was in the room and his feet were on the desk. Nothing was wasted. The man was an editor. Something wrapped at the door. “ Come in,” said she edwor. It was a boy. He laid a. book on the edxtet’s table and went The editor looked at it a while and then took it into another rourn.where there was another man with his feet on the desk 1 He was writ- ing busily ; but ceased his work as the editor came in. He was a literary person. “ Give this a. good notioe.” said the editor. “ All right,” said the literary person. Then the editor went out. The cl )uk in one corner of .the room kept up an incessant ticking. The literary person disliked the clock, but the man who wrote the financial articles owned the clock, and would not allow it to he removed. He said its tick- ing reminded him of the way bankers did business. 011i After a while the literary person finished his review of a. book on the ethics of protoplaem, and stopped writing. Presentlv he looked at the bouk which the editor had left. He had never seen anything like it before, but he did not weaken. Again his pen traveled rapidly over the paper. This is what he wrote: “ We have received from the publishers a dainty work. entitled Record of Trottinn and Pacing in the United States and Canada. for 1880. and we can warmly recommend it ts our readers. While the plot is one replete with Sensational incidents and situations, it is yet of a. character that can offend none, teach- ing, as it dOLB, the lesson that true progressis attained by honest effort. The almost idyllic story of Maud S. and St. Julian, who seem to be the principal characters in the story, is told in a simple yet finished manner. and one lays down the bank with a. restful feeling at the heart that should always be produced by a properly constructed novel. ” .Thé neit day the editor saw this in his paper. He read il carefully and Bald: (From the Albany Law Journal.) The rock that the legal proteasion are in most danger of coming to wreck on is that of excessive charges. There is a continual low prowling in the community on this subject. The following in an English lay newspaper does not exaggerate this matter: “ l‘nere are certain well known firms of solicitors who can never be got to render a statement; they are perpetually applying for checks on account, and generally have the faculty of applying for these at some critical time in the procedure. when they know that the litigant cannot help paying, in order-that his case may go on. Other soliciiors punish the inquisltiveness of any who may wish for a detailed bill of costs by making it out to an extent vas ly in excess 0! the round sum originally demanded.” “ It is notorious that the charges are alto gather out of proportion to the time given, the work done, or the c misideratinn received, and all kinds of vexatious obstacles are thrown in the way of any who seek to efiect areform in this respect. The tact is. that the ranks of the legal prefession are over- crowded. and are being added to year by year to an extent which the public interests by no means 1': quire. Yet the excxusivene>s that obtains wiih regard to melhods of proc. dam, and the stringent rules impoued upon all the mzmbers oi' the craft, prevent that whole. some competition which exists in all other trades. The consequence is that the public are robbed, and that a comparative few of th members of the legal profession obtain for themselves the chief portion of the spoil, while the gieat bulk of them struggle on as best they can." Our legal exuhanges are filled with discussions on lawyers’ costs. The community are bound to have cheaper jus- tice, if they can. â€"â€"~The Cuban press invites the press of the United States and Canada to a banquet at Matanzas on 1h» 24th inst. In honor of the international exhibition to be held there- Thanks; but we can’t go); we have an en- gagement to write up the defeat of the Scott not in Wentworth. HOW HE REVIEWED THE BOOK. LAWYERS AND THEIR FEES. FRANCE AND TUNIS. ’â€"Sa,n [4 ranczsca Pout. I Teefy A Detroiter. who had occasion this winter to visit Gratiot County, was invited to a spell ing school in a distant school house, and he reached the place to find it crowded and deep interest apparent among the audience. The spelling soon lumen, and in a. little time only six or eight contestants were left. One of these was a giant named William Jones, and it was evident that he had come there to conquer. When he spelled ” jealousy" with :a “ g " they tried to make him sit down. but he rapped on the desk with his big fist and replied : “ I don‘t know nuthin’ ’bout Webster or any other foreigner, and I don’t care. ' I’ve allus been used to spellin’ it ~ gealousy,’ and I ain’t goin‘ to knock off to please a few wood~ chucks." As he would not sit down he was allowed to go on sp=lling. even after he had missed several mme words. At last only the Detroiter and Big William had the floor, and while the latter was struggling with the word “ sym- pathy,” a window near the former opened softly, and a. man whispered : “ Bey, stranger. can you spell ‘chromo t’ ” “ Of course I can.” *‘ Well.it’s goin‘ to floor Bill, and don’t you forget it, and the ttacher sent me around here to say to you that you'd better climb out and skip before the climax comes.” “ What climax ?" “ Why, the one we had a month ago. That ’ere Blll Went down on the word ‘ euphony,’ and tue chap from Iowa who was left stand- ing had to be carried home in a blanket. When Bill gets through with ‘ sympathy,’ the next WOId will be ‘ chromo,’ and you‘d better start it 01f ‘ kro ’ or be ready to jump thrnugh this winder and make for the woods. for that ’ere Bill is bound to out-spell this deestrick if he has to lick every human bein’ in it I" The Detroiter had a good eye for harmony in chromos. and he wisely permitted Bill to be the last one left standing. “ I rememember hearing from a gentleman in Connecticut." said the minister, " that he had marrled a very weanhv couple, and at the concluaiun of the ceremony the groom, placing hm fingers in his we; pocket, wok a paper packet. and quieuy handed in to him. lie put it. In hls packet, and when he reached home opened it. and found it. was a paper of chewing tobacco. The bnde and groom left for Europe Ihat evening. Upon thcir return. two momhs af-erwurd. the gentleman called on the minlhmer and asked if he had not, made some mlemke. An explanation followed and fine gentleman hundtd the minister $200 as his fee.” " Do you ever have any strange experience of that nalure ? ” “ I performed the ceremony in one of the (legun‘ homes in this (:13) nut long since. The groom slipped an enwlupe into my hand. When I opened in up nu my arrival home. I iuuud in :2, instead of money, a. low: lever from the prospective bride to the prospective bridegroom. I returned the lemer. and then got. the envelope that was intended for “ Yes. When I was in New York a. B0- hemianâ€"I mean a mmve of Bohe winâ€"came tu me and said that perhaps he would want me 10 perform the marrlage ceremony for him next. day. A number of women from his country would arrive at Castle Garden next. day, and he intended to go down and pick out a wife. Next moning he appeared again. “ ‘ I dond be sure yet awhile,’ he re- plied : ‘ Ihired two and took them to mine store.’ “ Some strange cases must come underyour nolicu? " ‘ Well,’ I asked, ‘ did you make your choice ? ‘ " That evening he came around and got married.” The death of the Rev. Dr. Punshon calls to remembrance words in his introduction to the Volume of lectures and sermons published by him shortly before he left Canada for Eng- land : “ I have not aim»-d to alter the form of direct address 1 have thought that pos- sihly the peiusal of what multitudes have heard may recall the voice that spokeâ€"when the speaker is far away. Thus not only may the truth remain but the personal memory longer ; not only may the oak be a sub- stantial and helpful thing, but the invisible diyad be remembered too. I take pleasure in the thought that although not native to the Dominion, I have learned to indentify myself as loyally with its interests as if I were to the manor born, and in the separation to which duty calls me I shall cherish an un- ceasing attachment to its people and its for- tune still. When 1 consider that here is a land which reaps all the benefits of monarchy Without the caste and cost of monarchyâ€"a. land where there is no degradation in honest tail. and ample chances for the honest toilet; a land whose educational appliances rival any other, and Whose moral principle has not yet been undetermined; a land which starts its nationa| existence with a kindling love of freedom, a quickened onset of inquiry. and a reverent love of truth, and of its highest em- bodiment, R eligionâ€"I feel that never coun try began under fairer auspices, and that if Canada‘s childien be but true to themselves, whatever their political destiny may be. they will establish a staple commonwealth rich in all the Virtues which make nations greatâ€" miuhty in those irresistible moral forces which make any people strong. Estapr victim I M» y no Maiius ever sit among the ruins of epic mise to fair.” The olde st picture known at presentmainted in oil colors on wood. is preserved in the In; pcrial gallery of Vienna. Accoiding to Beck mann‘s History of Inventions, it was executed in the year 1297. by a painter named Thomas de Mutuia. or de Muttersdorf in, Bohemia. Two other paintings in the same gallely are of the year 1357 ; one is by Nicholas Wursn ser, of Sims'urg, the cihsr by Thieiry, of l'mgne. It appears, therefore, that. painting in 011 was known long belore the epoch at which that invention is generally fired. and that it is erroneously ascribed to Hubert van Eyck and his brother and pupil, Jenn van Eyck, otherwise called John of Bruees, who lived about the end of the fourteenth century, and not the beginning of the fifteenth century. an is commonly suppoutd It is point-d out, however, that there is evidence in the books of the Painters’ company, under the date of the eleventh year 01‘ the reign of Edward I. (1283). that oil painting was in use at that tune. the a communication from Sir Fran- cis Palgrave in Uarter'e Ancient Sculpture and Paintings in England. It may be added that the art of wood engraving stems to be older than the invention of printing, to which, per- haps it gave rise. The names of the first en- gravers on wood are, however, not Known. In the Athenwum for 1845. page 965, is given 8. inc simile of a large wood engraving bearing the dtte 1418. which was oiscovered at Malines in 1844, and is now preserved in the public library at Brussels. â€"A ball is soon to be given in Paris at which the ladies will appear dressed entirely in paper. The toilets are expected to be ex- quisite. THE OLDEST PICTURE KNOWN. WHOLE N0. 1,188.â€"â€"-NO, 48, SPELLING-SCHOOL HARMONY. PUN SHON IN CANADA. WEDDING FEES. (Detroit, Free Press ) Marrying Girls and the Other Kindâ€"r Why Men Do and Do Not Marry. There seem to be two sorts of girlsâ€"those that ought, brcsuse speciall) fit, to be married, and never are married. and those that never should and never will he. and yet invariably get married. The former are usually the de- mure, industrious, unworldy, dumeslic; the latter are the easy. careless, m»rry. impudent, frolicsome, saucy girls. of whom men become enamored for no reason at all and in suite of themselves. When a man falls in love and can’t crawl out readily, he avails himsrli of marriage, and is olten extricated 1hereby Without intending it. He is no more logical in matrimony than in celibacy; the same thing that makes him a lover tuzns him to a husband, and he is thrice blessed if he does not discover a sharp and sudden difference between the two. It is passion, not reason. and it is called the divine passion because it is so thoroughly human. Men generally like one kind of women and love another kind. The one kind they are commonly recommended to wed. and don’t; the other kind they are advised not to wed. and (10. Which is the betterâ€"to take 9. Wife because you like her, or to take a wife because you love her. Hyman alone knows and he won’t tell. If you do either or neither you may repent. There is no abso- lute safety in wedlock or out of it. No man’s experience is good for another man. and our own experience in erotic aflairsis rarely valu- able ; for every time a man {oils in loveâ€" and he has great‘alecrity in this wayâ€"the accident varies, though the efiect is unaltered. N . man can say what sort of a, woman will be his wife ; and if he be wise he won’t express any opinion on the subject. He may cherish many views and have many beliefs there- upon. but the more of these he has the less likely they are to be confirmed. He, who insists, in his bachelor days. that his Wife shall be a. beauty, is apt to find her plain. He cannot endure a. woman Without intellect surrenders to one not suspected of it. The devotee of order discovers himself mated with the embodiment of confusion. The stickler for elegance secs, when the glamor of court- shiphas been removed, that he is joined to a dowdy. " Seventeen ? Good gracious, that’s wrong 1 That’s the Deacon’s room I ” | “ The diokens it is] Then, where was the 9 Deacon ? " Marriage goes, to a. certain extent, by con- trasts, if not coniraries. A woman. s ill less than a man, gets the husband she paints to her fancy. Her counubial ideas are common- ly regulated by her age and experience. The man she desires at 16 or 17 would be a bur- den at 20, and her ideal at 20 might prove a bore at 25. She begins with sentimentalism and ends with sobsrness; vanity impels her first. but 8) mpathy helds her last. She is Irequenlly surprised at the offers she receives. and still more surprised at the offers she does not receive. .The love that comes at first sight rarely remains; it is apt to be born of the eye, not “9‘ the temperament. The love that grows generally endurrs and prnduceq fruit. Love and marriage are not related as We think they should be. L we matches oiien turn out ill, and matches Without love turn out well. No one can tell what love is; nor can any one guess what marriage will bring. We are all, when yl-ung. full of thoughts and themies about both, and individual experience is ever contradiclmg what we have learned. Mar- riage is as impenetrable aq love. Few of us are prepared tor their discl lsures. We may love and marry again and again: but our ideal of love or mariiage is almost always wholly unlike the thing haltâ€"New York Times. (London Academy.) In the dim agls of Asians history, the splendor of the city of Merv was the marvel of travelers and the theme of pr els. Claim- ing the honor of being rounded by Alexander, it was subsequent to the death of that great conqueror the capital of the kiudom formed by his Generalc Alltlocblld; and at a later ptrifld the great names of Arsian and Sultan Sanjar are mixed up with its history. Under the beneficent rule of the Sufl’avean Kings of Persia Merv continued to prosper, slthdtgh it had previously been included in the general destruction produced by the devastations of the Mongols. But, wilh the decline of the last of the few Vigorous dynasties wnicn have exercised authority over the unhappy people of Persia. the fortunes of Merv also waned. and, when Shah Mourad of Bokhara con- quered and laid waste this region toward the close of last century, the cup of bitterness for the people of Merv was full. From that time to the present Merv has remained the en- campment of the main body of the Turcoman race;and, while much of its old trade im- portance has vanished. its position on the best route from the Oxu§ and the countries of Turkestan to not only Persia and Afghan- istan. but also to the Caspian, still entitles it to the consideration of all who are interested in the shame of Western Asia. The View is now accepted in the best informed circles that the principle object belore Russia in this quarter is to connect the Turkestan base with the Caspian by means of a railway pass- ing through Merv. As this is now likely to be completed at no very distant date. there is every prospe ct of the oasis of Merv. in Russian hands, again becoming the fertile district and smiling paradise described by the old writers. Burnes tells us in his glowing pages of how “ the wheat fields there fur- nished the astonishing phenomenon of three succeeding crops from the same seed ;" and, with proper means of irrigation and with security to life and property, there is appar- ently no reason why this phenomenon should not be seen again. One rarely meets Will)! a. more touching romance than is found in the following story. which comes from Web 8; A number of years ago some miners, in ex- ploring an old Lit that had long been closed, found the body of a young man dressed in the fashion lung out of date. The peculiar action of the air was such as to prtserve the body so perfectly that the same appeared asleep rather than dead. The miners were puzzled at the circumstances ; no one in the district had been missed within their remembrance. and at last it was resolved to bring the oldest in- habitantâ€"an old lady long passed her eightieth year, who had lived single in the Village the whole of herlife. On being brought into the presence of the body, a strange scene occurred. The old lady fell on the corpse. kiSBt-d it, and aodi'bssed it by ewry term of loving endearment, spoken in the langu»ge of a oy-gone generation. He was her only lOVc; she had waited for him during her long life. She knew h-j had not forsaken her. The old lady and the young man had been betrothed sixty years before. The low-r had dirappeared m) steriously. and she had kept. faithful dur- ing the long interval. Time had stuod still With the young man. The miners who were present were a rough set; but wry gently, and with tearful eyes.they removed the old lady to her house, and that night her faithful spirit rejoined that of her long lost. lover. It was at Sacramento, last year, during the session ; time, midnight. when two of the boys parted thus : b‘uid one, “ Good nlght, old manâ€"I leave you here. Have to sit up Wilh a sick mend. By the way, do me the favor as you pass my room on your way to bed, to B'ep in and disarrunae it ; turn down the clothes and rumple the pillows. My door is never locked, and when theothere look in at nreakfast time they will see that 1 am 03. Understmd ? " “ All right." said No. 2. They met at no m. In reply to vigorous upbralding, No. 1 said : “ 1 did disarmnge your room. put water in the basin rumpled the towels, tore the bed to pieces ~ Why, room seventeen looked as if there had been a fight I ” WHERE WAS THE DEACON? GETTING MARRIED. A TOUCHING STORY. MERV.