North Carolina Newspapers

THE ALAMANCE GLEANER, VOL. I. THE GLEA-NER. ' PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY PABEEB & JOHNSON, Graham, N. C« RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION, Postage Paid: One Year .'. J2 00 Six Months 1 00 " Clubs! Clnbs!! For 6 copies to one P. 0.1 year $lO 00 « g u •• u 6 months 550 "10 " " " •' 1 year 15 00 « 10 u H « « 0 months 800 "20 * " " - " 1 year 28 00 " 20 « - " « 6 months 15 00 No departure from the cath tyttem. RATES OF ADVERTISING : Transient advertisements payable in advance; yearly advertisements quarterly in advance. 1 mo. 2 mo. 3 mo. 6 mo. 12 mo. 1 square $ 225 » 360 $ 450 $720 $lO 80 2 - 360 640 720 15 80 16 20 3 " 540 720 900 16 20 22 60 4 « 630 900 10 80 18 00 27 00 6 " 720 13 50 16 20 22 50 32 40 % column 10 20 16 20 18 00 27 00 45 00 J2 " 13 50 18 00 27 00 45 00 72 00 1 " 18 00 31 50 45 0 ) 72 00 126 00 Transient advertisements $1 per square for the first, and 50 cent* for each subsequent insertion. Advertisements not specified as to time, published until ordered out, and charged accordingly. All advertisements considered due from first inser tion. One inch to constitute a square. -4 • POKTKT. BITTEKNESS. a Is it true 1 have built insecurely ? Do no foundations remain ? Were the structures I planned so surely ' Ff unded and built in vain ? wav 3* so madly careering, No pity for wrecks laid bare ? ' Ah ! why are they ever appearing. To mock me in my despair ? Just as if my hopes were their vassals. They have felled them in their strife ; And the last was the lordliest of castles, Replete with the dreams of my life. I watched, from my rampart and towers. Hie storms sweep over the main ; And, soorned, in my daintiest of bowera, The fury of wind and rain. I saw the stars pale in their splendor, And die out in darkness above ; While music, entrancing and tender, . Was soulless beside my love. But my castles were crushed on the morrow— My hopes that were life to me ; I was mad in my first wild sorrow, And cursed the relentless sea. I saw with powerleaa emotion. The wrecks strewn far and wide ; And I watched the foam-crested ocean Bear them away on its tide. Rememembranoe and life are yet left me Memories of sorrow alone ; Of the rest has the sea bereft me, Claiming my all aa its own. ■ISCEIiLAHT. The Harks ot a Minister. A correspondent of the 'National Baptist' tells this story of the late Dr. Beth one: On one occasion, when the Doctor was resident in Philadelphia, he went for a few days of rest to a trout stream he had heard of in the interior of the State. Arriving, an entire stranger, at a house kept by a man who had been accustomed to entertain those who came there to fish, he was coldly re ceived. The man told him frankly that he had attended a protracted meeting during the Winter, that he hoped the Lord had forgiven his sins, ana that he hadjoinad the Methodist Chnrch, and meant to give up gsing with the kind of men who came up there to fish. The Doctor's humor overcame his scruples so far as to gain admittance for the night, and the next morning succeeded still further, pre vailing upon the man to go out with hlai and show him the best places of the stream. They spent most of the day together, and, on. returning to the house in the afternoon, the man slapped him on the shoulder, saying: "Doc., I like you." "Why do you like me, my friend f' "Well, Doc., Pll tell you. We've been out almost all day, we haven't caught much, yon fell in and got wet, and I hayen't heard you swear •nee." After supper, as the Doctor was smoking his pipe In front of the house, - his host came out, and, with some hesi tancy. said: "Doc., since I jined the church I've had prayers every night: we are going to have them now, and maybe you wouldn't object to come in.' "Certainly not, my friend;" and he went in to listen to the reading of a passage in a broken way. and to join heartily in a good old Methodist hymn. Daring the singing the man watched him closely, and at the end said an xiously, "Maybe vou wouldn't mind leading ns in prayer." The Doctor knelt and offered one of those full and hearty, yet ample supplications which are so well remembered by all who knew him. He was hardly seated in front of the house again Defore the man reappeared, saying,' Doc., I kinder snspicion von." "What do you suspect me of! Noth ing bad, I hope!", c No, nothing bad, and maybe Pm wrong; but 1 kind o' think yon are a minister." , "What makes you think Pm a min ister f" "Well, 111 tell you: I haven't hearn yon swear since yon came; then the way yoa jined us in the hymn; then the way yoa prayed, made me think you was « minister." ',7 The doctor langhed heartily as he acknowledged that he was indeed a minister. — Eight pounds of oxygen gss and one pound of hydrogen are oombined in nias pounds of water. GRAHAM, ALAMANCE COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA, TUESDAY, MARCH 16, 1875. BERENICE. "Suppose we give it up, Berry, and stay at home," suggested the young husband, laying aside the dainty invi tation cards an he spoke. You wouldn't care a great deal, would you ?" Berenice put up ber cherry lips in a childish pout. "Of course I care, Bruce,"she said reproachfully ; "every body else is. going ; why cannot we go ? Why, the ball at Belvidere Place is all the talk. Carrie Dubant's going, and she's got the loveliest dress that human eyes ever beheld. And such lace—real point—and a brand-new turquoise set, and her husband's not half as well off as vou are." "Well, well, don't fret, Berry," said her husband, with a sigh ; 'if you've set your heart on it you shall go. But I thought,*' he added, hesitatiflgly, "I mean—well, the plain truth is, Berry, that I'm a little cramped for cash now. That heavy note comes due on Friday, and my affairs are not quite so steady as I like. And this ball—" "Oh, nonsense," interposed the young wife, giving her red gold ringlets a toss : "you men always talk that way. Papa always did, I remember, when mamma went to him for money. Bat you can't impose on me, Bruce ; I'm too well posted. You've money enough; there's no mistake about that. And I sha'n't need a fortune ; so the matter's settled ; we shall go to the ball at Belvidere." "Very well; you shall have it your own way," he replied ; and, rising up from his bright little breakfast table, Bruce Danbar kissed his wife, and went down town to his place of business. They had not been married quite a year, and the young husband could not find it is his heart to deny his pretty child wife a single gratification ; but he looked moody enough as he walked down the cheerful, sunlight street. He told the truth when he said he was cramped for cash ; there was not a spare dollar in his till. A few years back this same hand some Bruoe Danbar had been what is termed in fashionable parlance "fast." He drove a blooded horse, indulged in oards and champagne suppers, and sowed his wild oats pretty plentifully. But in the midst of all this he fell in love with pretty Berenioe Holbrook, and the whole manner of his life was changed. Since the hour of his marriage he had given up all his bachelor in dulgences, and walked unswervingly in the narrow path of reotitude and virtue. He was doing his best to redeem the past and retrieve his fallen fortunes. And here came the invitation to the Belvidere ball in the most inopportune time. He reached his office with a heavy heart, and set about his work, counting over the long list of unpaid bills, "If Berry would only give Up the ball!" he thoqght every time he raised his eyes from the dreary ledger. But pretty Berenice, with her peach bloom cheeks and red-gold tressess, had no such thought as that. Just be fore the hour of closing she oame flirt ing into her young husband's offioe, such a radiant creature, in her silks and jewels, that he forgot his cares, and looked up with a smiling welcome. "I've been out shopping love," she said, touching her ripe lips to his brow ; "getting our things for the Belvidere. I've got you an exquisite vest and tie, etc., and I wish, I do wish, you oould see my Stress ! I bought it already made—a Paris, affair, you know, silk tissue and rose-buds, and knots of Paris-green. Oh, it is too lovely! Carrie Dubant's won't compare with it at all I—And1 —And Madame B said that I must —1 positively must—have an emer ald set to match it; a light emerald, you know, to suit my complexion. And, darling," touching her lips to his brow again, "I was sure you wouldn't mind, and I got these"—unclasping a casket and flashing a blaze of sea-green splendor before the young husband's eyes —"at a real bargain, too. Ain't they ? And the whole bill, for dress and everything, is only five hundred dollars ! Now, haven't I been an economical little wife ?" Bruce Dunbar almost reeled where he stood. Five hundred dollars, and he with scarcelv five hundred pennies at his command ! Bat he muttered no word of reproach. He kissed the pretty face looking up to him, and then called a cab and drove home, with his happy wife ohatting beside hmi. They went to the ball at Belvidere place, and Berenice Dunbar took the palm for beauty, in ber shimmering robes, with her fresh cheeks and red gold ourls.and childish manners. Her husband followed' her lead, forgetful of everything but the joy of the mo ment. The "Beautiful. Blue Danube" had ended, and they were in the refreshment room, "Come, Bruce, let's have a glass to your beautitul bride's health and hap- Einess," said an old friend, meeting im for the first time since his mar ri*£6. The yonng man shook his head, and was on the point of uttering a polite refusal, but his wife pinched his arm. "O, Bruoe, don't" she whispered ; "it's so old fsshioned and Why don't you drink like other men ?" Bruce Dunbar's cheeks flushed. It hsd oost him a great struggle to givf, up his socisl glass, but he had Con quered for his wife's sake. And this was his reward ! He seised the glass and drained it at a draught. The glowing liquor ran like fire through his veins, arousing all his old thirst, all his old craving for strong drink. Before the great ball at Belvidere was over his cheeks glowed and his eyes flashed, and bis step was a trifle an steady; bat Berenioe did not mind—all the gentle man in her set drank champagne. Two weeks after the ball Berenioe waited impatiently for her husband's return. —Dinner was spoiling, the sal men steaks would be utterly ruined in ten minutes more, and the young wife was dreadfully impatient. She had a new dress and tickets for Nilsson. Why did not Bruce oome ? But the dinner hour passed, and the twilight with a dismal rain, and still he did not oome. Berenioe went up to her chamber and sat down in her little rocking chair be fore the fire, and there she sat for hours bewailing her fate. On the bed lay her lovely new dress. It was oruel in Bruoe to treat her so. She cried till her eyes were red and swollen, and at last, in order to beguile the dreadful hours, she picked up the evening paper. There it was, in groat, glaring capi tals—the failure of the firm of Dunbar k Chase. Her husband was bankrupt. A sharp cry escaped her lips as the ter rible truth flashed upon her. And where was he ? Why didn't he oome home ? Midnight oame—a black and stormy midnight—and still the young wife sat there watching and waiting. At last there oame an unsteady stop on the porch below. She hurried to the window and threw it up. "Bruce, is that you ?" A thiok, unnatural voioe answered her, "Yes, it's what's left o' me. Berry, let me in ; the polioe are after me," Berenioe flew down and opened the door. An offloer mounted the steps as she did so, and laid his hand heavily on Bruce Dunbar's' shoulder. "Mr. Dunbar, you are my prisoner." "He's my husband ! shrieked Bere nioe. ''What are you arresting him for?" "For murder. She looked down at Bruoe, standing in dogged silenoe, and by the light of the hall lamp saw that his hands were red with blood, and with one awful cry she fell white and senseless on her own threshold. She aWoke to consciousness in her old home, and from her mother's lips she heard the terrible story. Her hus band had failed, and in order to drown his trouble had drank deeply. In a gambling house, where he was trying to retrieve his losses, he had got into a brawl, and had given his adversary a mortal wound upon the temple. "And it is all my fault, not his," wailed the poor young wife ; "all mine. I lured him to his ruin." The morning before the trial a little slip of paper was found beneath the window of the ohamber in whigh Berenioe lay unto death. It ran thus : "Good-bye, Berry. I won't stsyhere and disgraoe you. I've managed to escape from prison, and I'm going- Heaven knows where 1 Forget me, and be happy. • Bhuos." Five years afterward a pale, sweet faced woman Bat in the oottage that had onoe been Bruoe Dunbar's home, with a little child playing at her feet— a very different woman from the frivo lous Berenice of days gone bv, yet we know her pearl-fair cheeks and red gold hair. Sorrow and suffering had done their work, and at last poor Berry saw clearly. Her remorse hsd been deep and bitter. And now, day by day, with the little boy who bore his father's faoe and his father's name, she hoped and waited. Her hasband's crime was not murder ; the .wounded man did not die; and the way was clear for Bruoe Dunbaa to re turn ; yet he did not come. He was dead, his friends thought : but Berry hoped with the faith of a deathless love. One summer day "she sat at the cot tage window with her child at her feet. A royal summer dsy, the skies blue and cloudless, the sanlit air sweet with the breath of the roses and the purple lilacs. She hsd worked hard and faithfully in those dreary five years, poor, re morseful little Berry I Jewels snd lsces, even her father's downr, had gone to pay off her hnsband's debts and clear his name. Her work was done now. She owned the oottage, and in the shadow of the purple lilac bloom she sat, her sweet, sad faoe full of an un utterable despair. Would he never oome back ? Would Heaven never for give her? The latch of the Hcket gave a sharp click, snd the old house-dog stsrted forward with a peculiar cry. Berenioe looked up. A tall, gaunt' fignre, in threadbare garments, was coming up the walk. The haggard, unshorn face and bleared eyes bore no resemblance to handsome Bruoe Dunbar, but the wife's unerring instinct oould not be deceived. She darted through the window with a low, passionate cry. "O, Bruoe, my husband—at last, at last!" Pi _ , She put oat her srms to clasp him, but he held her back. "Don't; lam not worthy," he said, hoarsely ; "I'm a lost, degraded wretch. But, Berry," his poor, haggard face full of inexpressible tenderness, "loonldn't die till I had seen yon onoe more. Let me look at yoa, and I'll leave you for ever." - Bat her young arms caught bim in a close embrace, her fond lip» covered his white face with kisses. , "No, you won't," she cried, "yon shall never leave me again. Tour name is clear, your debts are paid, and there is a new life for us to lead my husband. I have waited so long! It was all my fault, Bruoe ; the ball at Belvidere did ii. Oafi you evsr forgive me f * He held her in bis arms and sobbed upon her shoulder, like a woman, in his weakness She turned to the open window W beckoned to the child. "Ana flpre't something else, Bruoe," she said, "for you to live for now. Look here I" He raised his head and saw the little fellow at his feet looking up in grave, childish wonder. And Bruce Dunbar, with his wife and ; child in his arms, looked up to the far off summer sky, asking Heaven to give ! him strength to begin the new life he intended to live. And the strength must have been j vouchsafed to him ; for in five years 1 more he was one of the first men in his j native town, and if ever any feminine J weakness or temptation aasailtd Bere- j nice, she had but to calico miud the sad results of the Ball at Belvidere. Ulrls. Mrs. Livermore, Olive Logan and j the Hon. Carl Schurz have given so much time in discussing this important subject that we have made up our mind that if the girls are trained at home in the following manner they would give these wise heads something else to talk about : Teach them self-relianoe : Teach them to make bread. Teach them to make shirts. Teaoh them to foot up store bills. Teach them not to wear false hair. Teach them to wear thick warm shoes. Bring them up in the way they should go. . Teach them how to wash and iron clothes. Teaoh them how to make their own dresses. Teaoh them that a dollar is - only a hundred oents. Teach them how to darn stockings and sew on buttons. Tesch them every dsy, dry hard prao- | tical common sense. Teaoh them to say no, and mean it; , or yes, and stick to it. Teach them to wear calico dresses and j do it like queens. Give them a good, substantial com mon school education. Teach them that a good rosy romp is worth fifty oonsnmptives. Teaoh them to regard the morals and not the money of their beaux. Teaoh them all the mysteries of the kitchen, the dining room and parlor. Teaoh them the more one lives within his inoome the more he will save. Teaoh them to have nothing to do with intemperate and dissolute young men. Teaoh them the further one lives be yond his inoome the nearer he gets to the poor house. Kely upon it that upon your teaohing depends in a great measure the weal or woe of their after life. Teaoh them that a good steady me chanic withont a cent is worth a dozen loafers in broadcloth. Teaoh them the accomplishments, music, painting, drawing, if you have time and money to do it with. Teach them that God made them in his own image, and no amount of tight lacing will improve the model. Th^hTfeTciwiron. Major Powell, whose descriptions of the canyons of Colorado are so interest ing end so eloquently told, tells as of a passage through one of those teriible flows in his boats, as follows : About eleven o'clock ws hesrd s great roar ahead, and approached it very cau tiously, the sound growing louder and louder aa we ran. At last we found ourselves above a long, broken fall, with ledges and pinnacles of rock obstructing the river. There was s descent of seventy-five or eighty feet, perhaps, in a third of a mile and the ruabing waters were broken into great waves on the' rocks, snd lashed themselves into foam. We conld land just above, but there was ' no foothold on either side by which s j portage oould be msde. It wss nesrly a thousand feet to the top of the granite so it was impossible to carry on? boats around, though we oould climb to that point ourselves ba side guloh, and passing along a mile or two, oonld de scend to the river. We disoovered this on examination, but such a portage wonld have been impracticable for us, and we were obliged to run the rapid or abandon the river. i We did not hesitate, but stepped into the bosts, pushed off, snd dashed swsy, 1 first on smooth but swift water, then | striking s glassy wsve snd riding to its i top, down sgsin into the trough, np again on a higher wave, and down ana ' up on the waves, higher and still higher, until we struck one just as it curled beck, when a breaker rolled over our little undaunted boat. On we sped, till the boat was caught in a whirlpool and spun around and around. When we managed to pull out again, the other j boats bad pasaed us. The open com partment'of the "Emms Dean" was I filled with wster, snd every breaker rolled over us. Hurled back from the rock now on this side, now on thst, we were carried st lsst into sn eddy, in whioh we struggled for s few minutes, and then out sgsin, the breakers still rolling over us. Our boat was un managesble, but she could not sink snd ! we drifted down snother hundred yards through breaker* how, we, scarcely knew. We found the other boete hsd turned into an eddy at the foot of the fall, snd were wsiting to cateh as as we oeme, for they had aeen that oar boat wss swsmped. They pushed oat ss we came nesr, snd pulled as ia sgsinet the walL We bailed out the boat snd started on again. Oliver Wandell Holmes, in a recent medical article, maintains that rhyth mical instincts have a physiological origin in respiration, and thinks "one ean hardly doubt that Spencer breathed habitually more slowly than Prior, and that Anacreon had a quioker respira tion than Hon*er. M ... Interesting Data. We present below authentic informa tion concerning the date of birth and death, and other items connected with the lives of the .dead Presidents, in connection with the date of birth and the age of the ex-Presidents now living, and the date of birth and the age of the present incumbent of the Executive Chair: • George Washington was born in Virginia, February 22nd, 1732. He was unanimously elected to the Presi dency in 1789, re-elected in 1793, and died at Mount Vernon, December 14, 1799, aged 68. John Adams was born at Braintree, Mass?, October 30, 1735; was elected Vice-President in 1789, re-elected in 1793, and elected President in 1797. He dU5d July 4, 1826, aged 91, on the fiftieth anniversary of American inde pendence. Thomas Jefferson was born in Vir ginia, April 13,1843. He drafted the Declaration of Independence, while a member of Congress, in 1775. He was elected Vice-President in 1796, elected President in 1800, and re-elected in 1804; died July 4, 1826, aged 83. It will be observed that both Adams .and Jefferson died on the same day—July 4, 1826. James Madison, the "Father of the Constitution," was born in Virginia, March 16, 1751; was elected President in 1809, died June 28, 1836, aged 85. James Monroe was born in Virginia, April 2, 1759; was elected President in 1816; unanimously re-elected in 1820; died July 4, 1831—the fifty-fifth anni versary of American independence— aged 72. John Quincy Adams was born in Braintree, Mass., July 11, 1767; was elected President in 1824, and served in Congress from 1830 to 1848; died Feb. 24, 1848, aged 81. Andrew Jackson was born in South Carolina, March 16, 1767; was elected President in 1828, re-elected in 1832, and died June 8,1845, aged 78. Martin Van Buren was born at Kin derhook, N. Y., December 5, 1782; was elected Vice-President in 1832, elected President in 1836; died July 24,1862, aged 80. William Henry Harrison was born February 9, 1773, in Virginia; was elected President in 1840, and died on April 4,lß4l—just one month after his inauguration. John Tyler was born in Virginia, March 29,1790; was elected President in 1840, succeeded to Presidency upon the death of President Harrison, died January 17, 1862. Jtunes K. Polk was born in Virginia, in 1795; was elected President in 1844; died June 15, 1849—a short time fitter the expiration of his Presidential term. Zachary Taylor was bom in Virginia, November 24, 1784; was elected Presi dent in 1848, died July 9,1850. Millard Filmore was born in New York, January 7, 1800; was elected Vice-President in 1840, and succeeded to the Presidency upon the death of President Taylor. Franklin Pierce was born at Hills boro, N. H., November 3, 1804; was elected President in 1852, and died Oc tober 8, 1869. . James Buchanan was born in Penn i sylvania, April 22nd, 1791; was elected President in 1856; died June 8, 1868. Abraham Lincoln was born Febru ary 12, 1806, in Kentucky; was elected President in 1860; was re-elected in 1864, and died by assassination April 13, 1865. Andrew Johnson was born in North Carolina, December 29, 1808; was elec ted Vice-Piesldent in 1864, and suc ceeded to the Presidency upon the death of Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Johnson succeeds Horace Maynard in the Uni ted States Senate. Ulysses S. Grant was born at Point Pleasant, Ohio, April 27, 1822; was elected President in 18*58, and re elected in 1872. He is the present incumbent. Virginia has been eight times repre sented in the Executive Office. r . - —-r-r- Misquotations. The most amusing Shakespearean misquotations are derived from the stage, and when not made on purpose, are generally traosable to the stupidity of supernumeraries. Bach a one is the line from "Biohard the Third" : Mr lord, at and back, and let the co«n pua, which the person who delivers it is warned to beer carefully in mind, and; which, bearing ig mind his warning, he isapt to read : Uy lord, (tand back, and let the panon •oogh. The impreoation of ''Lear," containing the lines : That ahe may fa»l How aharpcr than a asrpant'a tooth it la To have a thinHw child I was onoe turned to worse than non sense by a greet tragedian when he was tearing his passion to tatters: Tb*t ihl DAT fMI How sharper than a serpent's thanks it la To have a t jothieaa child I Aneeceitric actor, whose mania took the form of new readings, maintained that Horatio was really Hamlet's father and jnatified himself in the seene in which Hamlet moralizes over the skull of Yoriek, by saying : And amelt ao. Pa. In London they think more of oar "Pub. Does." than we do ourselves. The solemn publications of the Govern ment printing office bring very high prices there ; as for instance, the Be port of the Bureau of Statistics is sold at $6 25; the report of the Commis sioner of JSdnoatioft $7.00; United States Digest $9.80. These books cost from 7* cents to *1.25 in Washington. t . ' .»• s 1 t TIBIETIK. No churoh is too wfeak to take np a collection. . '* , A circuit ooart -the longest way home from singing echool. Broken China. A civil war is impend ing in the celestial Empire. Every pound of cochineal contains 70,000 insects, boiled to death. . Whalebone is reported scarce, and the dress reformers are correspondingly happy. ~ The worth of a State, in the long run is the worth of the individuals com posing it. A man never gets hold of the real gist of life till he begins to appreciate his own company. A bronze statue of Robert Barns, costing twelve thousand dollars, is to be placed in Central Park. Some of the poor-house authorities in London have discovered a new method of utilizing paupers. The more picturesque are let oat as models to artists-at 25 oents per hoar. In Belgium it is now no longer necessary, when taking an path before a magistrate, "W invoke the Mints and angels." This relic of the mediaval ages has existed in that country until now. The decline in railroad build ing daring the last two years, amount ing to a difference of 5,000 miles be tween 1872 and 1874, involved the throwing out of employment 100,000 men. , , Spoaking of law books, a recent lecturer on the subject said : "Another peculiarity of these books is, that none but a lawyer ever reads them. All other books have readers ontside the olass for whom they are speoially writ tea ; and we have accordingly, amateur men of scienoe, amateur physicians, amateur artists, and even amateur the ologians, but no one ever beard of an amateur lawyer." , ' In 1775, the superficies of Paris was about thirty million metres ; it is now seventy-eight millions. A century ago there were in the oity at the most a thousand streets, places, boulevards and lanes; there are now over three thousand. The population in 1775 waa 550,000 and the inhabitants oocupied 19,000 houses. To day it amounts to nearly two millions in ronnd numbers, and there are 60,000 houses within the municipality. When spectacles were first introduced it was considered fashionable to wear • them, even by people who were not in the least near-sighted. In Spain they formed part of the oostume cf every well bred person. This absurd use of glasses was meant to increase the gravity of the appearanoe, and conse quently the veneration with which the wearer of them was regarded. The glasses of spectacles were proportioned in sice to the rank of the wearer. Those worn by the Spanish nobles were as large as one's hand. The Mar quia of Astoiga, viceroy of Naples, after having his bast sculptured in marble, particularly enjoined the artist not to forget his beautiful spectacles. A piano ahould be tuned at least : four times in tike year by an experi enced tuner. If yon allow it to go too long without tuning, it usually be comes flat and troubles a tuner to get it to stay at oonoert pitch, especially in in the oonntry. Never place the in strument against an outside wall, or in aoold damp room, particularly in a country house. There is no greater enemy to a pianoforte than damp. Close the instrument immediately after your practioe, by leaving it open, dust fixes on the sound board, and corrodes the movements, and if in a damp room the strings soon rust. Should the piano stand near or opposite to a window, guard, if possible, against it being opened, especially on a damp or wet aay ; and when the sun is on the window, draw the blind down. Avoid putting metallic or other articles on or in the piano ; suoh things frequently cause unpleasant vibrations, and some times injure the instrument. The more equal the tempaturs of the room the better the instrument will remain in tune. Amongst oertain persons—and the olass is rather a numerous one—that which is oomfortable is unconsciously considered to be wrong, and objectless self-mortification assumes the character • of a virtue. Saoh persons never wear a topcoat, never hvre a fire in their bed-room, always shave with ©old wster, break the ice in their tub of a morning in order to bathe. They are apt to bosst of these feat*, and to look down upon their weaker fellow-creatures who do not imitate them. There is probably a remnant of old ecclesiasti cal terrorism in this, s trace of the ••hair shirt and no shoes" of the pil grims, which is singularly out of plaoe at the present dsy. In the matter of the morning tub alone the absurdity is well shown. Oar boasting friends loudly rejoice that they are not ts other men sre—the seasons makes no differ ence to them as regards their morning tnb. Now, granted that the oold water bath is a good thing, it Hanat be re membered that whereas in Summer they immerse themselves in water about 30 deg. or 30 deg. cooler than their blood, in Winter the difference of temperature may amount, as it has done latsly, to no less than 50 deg: or 60 deg. Fahr. To be consistent they should raise the temperatureof the bath in Winter to that which it has in Sun- % mer. As they are inconsistent, Ihey suffer very of ten from muscular rheu matism.—Zanerf. ' 5 * NO. 6.