I?lEI!IOKIES.
BY FATHER RYAN.
TIR'.v come as theLreezcs come over the foam,
■\Valiuhg: the M-aves that are sinking to sleep,
The fairest of memories from far away home,
Tlie dim dream of faces beyond the dark deep.
They come as tlie stars come out in the sky,
That shimmer wherever the shadows may
sweep;
And their steps ai'o as soft as the sound of a
sigh,
And I welcome them all while I wearily weep.
They come as a song comes out of the past,
As loved mother munnured iu days that are
dead—
Wiiose tones, spirit-thrilling, live on to the
last,
Where the gloom of the heart wraps its gray
i.’er the head.
They come like ghosts from the grass-shroud
ed grave.='.,
And they follow our footsteps on life’s wind
ing way ;
And they murmur around us as murmur tlm
waves
That sigh on the shore at the dying of day.
They come—^sad as tears to the eyes that are
bright;
They come—sweet as smiles to the lips that
are pale;
They come—fair as flowers iu the lone, lovely
vale.
There is not a heart that is not haunted so;
Though far we may stray from the scene of
the past.
Its memories folhnv wherever we go,
And tlie days that were first sway the days
that were last.
The following' ure some of the
odd ex[)i'essions that one hears in
California, tiiore especially from
the country people, who retain
for a longer time the characteris
tics of tlie land they live in.
Wlien a Californian is aston-
ished and entirely nonplused, lie
does not say, “ Do tell!” or “1
Biiiirii !” or “ Sho !” as his ances
tors and brotliers do in the East,
lie makes a gesture of complete
surrender, and remarks,—
‘Well, that jest everlastingh-
gets me !’ or simply, ‘That gets
me!’
He means that he is now en
tirely without light in the matter;
bewildered and at his wits’ end,
without words to express himself
further. It may be the energetic
bucking of a mustang, or the
price ot a pair of boots, or the
beauty of a young woman, or
any one of the hundred events of
a day, that produces this iinpres-
sion ; but he always words it the
same. It ‘everlastingly gets him.’
He has another phrase, used
mainly in speaking of other peo
ple who have met with disaster or
death in their undertaking. ‘That
let him out,’ means that the per
son referred to was defeated, or
out-witted, or snubbed, or shot,
or was in some vvay or other sent
about ids business. It ■would be
applied to a friend whose claim
had been jumped, or who had
been jilted by bis charmer, or
who liad been killed by a grizzly.
Whatever tite mishap was that
crossed him or finished him, in
the ‘Golden State’ dialect, it ‘let
him out.’
When a Californian wishes to
convey the idea that some one
else obtained an advantage over
him, he says, ‘He got the drop on
me.’
d’he expression arose from the
unpleasant tendency to ‘shoot’
■'vhich up to every recent times
characterized almost every man
on the Pacific slope. If a dispute
arose, or was about to arise, be
tween two persons, the one who
drew his pistol first and lowered
the muzzle so as to cover his op
ponent, and thus prevent his
movement on pain of death, was
said to have ‘got the drop.’
It is not the habit of a native
of the ‘Hear Slate’ to return aii}'-
thing like a civil reply to your
salutation, if yon happen to be a
stranger to him. Nine men in
every ten that you meet face to
face in a country road wHl e3’e
you as if j’ou had hofny^aBd a
tail, it 3’ou speak t'o tliem, or-’i^
you remain silent, will pass -dfi-
with averted gaze, seemingl}* un
conscious of \'our presence.
Sometimes a habitually courte
ous stranger venturing" ‘Good
morning,’ or, ‘A pleasant day,’
will get the response of a suily
gtttint, accompanied bj’ a look
|i&aiice, as though in expectation
cocked pistol. This suspicion
course a relic of tlie old nio-
miiiiiig days, wlieii miglit
law, and every man’s liand-i
against ills fellow.
lit should you happen to meet
a man whom 3 0U know, ho will:
grasp 3mur hand warmly enough,
and shout ‘Hawdv 1’ his i^oiniiia-
blo contraction of ‘IIow'^ vou
do V ’This is lieard alsq iu tiie
Wpsterii States.
After 3’our California friend lias
chatted with Amu, and is about to
continue his journe3", he does not
bid YOU ‘Good-dai-,’ or ‘Good
bye,’but ‘So 'long!' How that
phrase ever came to be used in
that absurd wa3’ is more than he
could tell vou, and probably mo:e
than an3’bod3^ else could tell.
Some have insisted that it is
merely a corruption of, ‘Well, so
I’ll go along;’ but the chief merit
of this explanation is that nobodjy
knows aiiA' better one. Tlie phrase,
as used, faintlv" recalls iu sound
the ‘Aliens’ sometimes .^jioken by
Frencluneii upon parting with
each other, but to suppose that
the expressions are the same is
out of the question.
Perhaps the most pitli3’ Cali-
fornism of the class I am describ
ing is one which first became com
mon duiing the wild and reckless
da3's of ‘old ’49,’ a time when
every man carried his .life in his
hand—or (so to speak) at the
muzzle of his pistol. ‘Het 3’Our
life!’ is grotesque, and even pro
fane. But for terseness and sig
nificant emphasis, ‘the force of
language could no further go.’
When a Californian asserts a
thing to be true, he sa3's to his
hearers, at the end, ‘Bet 3’er life !’
or, ‘Betherlife !’ which means 3’ou
can risk the last thing which V'ou
reaH3^ value that what he has said
is a fact. We could give many
more of these phrases, but have
not room. What we have given
are in the main the products of
mining life, and are sufficiently
inelegant and vulgar to satisfy the
crudest taste.—Youth's Companion.
THE FITTEST FOIt THE
STKEOWEE.
A Scotch minister, who was
famed for Ids diyness in the pul
pit, called on one ol his aged
hearers, and as usual partook of
a cup of tea. He remarked to
the guid wife, that lier tea-pot ran
very slowly. “Deed, ay,” quoth
the "guid wife, “it’s like yersel,’—
it has an unco’ bad deliYer3'.”
An article under this head in
the Sunday School Times gives tlie
following advice about tlie train
ing of the children :
What do 3'ou wisli to make of
3'our children ? Decide tiiisques-
tion first, and then 3'ou will know
better what to do for them. A
child’s heart is a little field in
which to sow precious seed.
Faithfully and pra3’erfully the
ground must be prepared, the
seed sown, and its growth watch
ed and protected. If 3-ou indo
lently, or negleotfullv, allow na
ture’s true sowing-time to go b3’
unimproved, 3 on will find that
(there liave been seeds dropped
without 3'our knowledge, and that
the little field is full ; then the
holy plants which 3^11 would raise
will be forced into a hard strug
gle for-exlsthjBce, and the3" may
be wholly ei'owded out. Surelv,
the qualifiosS-iidnch are to meet
.successfull3’ ’IHuls to virtue, and
.solicitations to evil, must be rooted
arid trained A'er3' early in the soul,
the3^ must have strength
lATiVercome the resistance which
(adioh" effort ahviys meets. The
■success of tho parent’s work must
depend upon tlie prompting and
guidance of tho iIol\' Ghost, for
tltBiPustakes into which tlie wisest
aisf^^st loving parent nny fall
aVe'manv and disasirons.
Ever3' cliiid is born rvitli some
disadvantage or deficienev, eitlier
iu liiuiself or liis circunistances.
He ma3- be indebted to iiis parents
for tliese unfortunate peculiarities,
but, wliether lie is or not, tlieir
knowledge of life enables them to
discern by the earliest uufoldings
of Ills cliaracter wliat lie is b\’
nature, and what training and
furnisliing he needs for liis future
well being. It is liis parent’s dut3’
tp. suppl3', if possible, his natural
-deft|ii^cies, and to strengtlieii
tliose disiiositions, and to increase
tliose facilities, wliicli tend to liis
best interest. You must strive to
fit 3’our cliild for tlie work before
him, and for tlie ciicumstances iu
wliicli lie must labor. If lie is
not well furnislied, by nature or
education, for the struggle and
experience of life, lie will be a
sufferer, and iu part, certainh',
through 3’our neglect.
Some invalids owe all their
years of pain to what seemed tlie
loving indulgence of a fond inotli-
er! Was it tlie best kindness she
could show lier child to yield to
its judgment, instead of acting
firnilA^ upon lior own f Because
it preferred injurious sweets to
wholesome food, was it being
faithful to its real good to gratify
it? If a child lias a constitutional
infirmity, it is surely its parents’
dut}’ to protect it from every in
fluence calculated to increase its
misfortune. If with tears 3’our
child begs to wear a thin dress,
when such insufficient clothing
would expose it to cold, then have
tlie trifling degree of maternal
courage to deny it. If you are
weak and vain as well as tlie oliild,
what is to prevent the result of
ill healtli, and, wh'at is worse, a
fostered spirit of pride ? A bod3'
in good condition in early' 3’ears,
is, almost certaiiih', tlie guaranty
ot a happy and long life; and it
is the parent’s duty to secure it, if
possible, for her child, for in so
doing slie is working also for the
higher interests of the soul.
Wlio questions the advantage
wliicli an educated mind lias in
the affairs of this world ? Surely,
tlie best developed powers are the
best fitted to achieve suceess. If
3’ou are contented to let 3'our sou
go out from his liome weak and
dependent, 3'ou can afford to neg
lect tlie wise traiiiino- of his native
faculties. His more industrious
and intelligent companions will
go past him, they will entei places
of respectabilitv and honor to
which he can gain no admittance.
They' will, perhaps, make many
a kind effort to help him—but he
cannot he helped. He has not
strengtii of mind enough to keep
the place in which tliev put liiiii.
He is soon lost siglit of iu tlio
crowd of earnest men, lieoause liis
mind is ignorant and undeveloj)-
ed. Can his natural sruardians
escape tlie conviction tliat tliey
are cliieflv to blame for his failure
iu manly efforts ?
[.iOilTHUESE 1SIHEI>I.\«.
and while
“Tlie Three
never seen
“but wlieii
POWEli OF MESJC.
Congreve, an old Fnglisli dra-
m iti.st savs, —
‘\Music liatli cliurriis to sootb^j the savage
hri'H.'it,
To softiMi jhKik's, or bend the knotted oaks.”
But its charms, as we learn
from tlie Hartford Times, move
otlier tliau savage breasts, and
not onlyjtlie ‘knotted oaks,’ but tlie
genius of tlie poet, bends to its
swa3'_.
Miss Antoinette Sterling, tlie
contralto, tells the following an
ecdote of Cliarles Kingsley ; Slie
was visited tiy tlie Canon to
Fversley Vicarage,
tliere sang his ballad,
Fisliers.” “He liad
me before,” slie says,
I came to that part of the song
wliicli o.\])r0ss('s the suspense of
tlie weeping women, 1 heard him
say', ‘Go on, that’s rigiit’ And
wlien tlie suspense was over, and
tlie bodies were lying on the sand,
missing liis exclamations, Hooked
up, and saw him sitting with his
face ill his hands, crying at his
own pathetic stor v.”
That case can be paralleled by
another, relating to a more fa
mous poet. In 1858 (we think,)
Dempster the Scotch ballad-sing
er, gave one of his popular con
certs in Hartford. That night, at
his rooms, a Times representative
called on him, and the conversa
tion turning on the manifest pow
ers of Dempster’s more patlictio
pieces, especially “The Mav,
Queen,” in causing the entire au
dience to shed tears, “Oh,” said
Dempster, “that song affected
Teniiy’son himself. It was the
first time that he had ever heard
the beautiful poem sung. Hear
ing I had set it to ballad music,
he desired to hear it, and I went
down to the Isle of AVight to
gratify him, Mrs. Tenny’son was
in the parlor also. I sung the
well-known piece in mv best styde,
to 1U3' own accompaniment,—and
turning round to the great poet,
I saw him in tears. He was
moved by' tlie spiritual power of
pathos in his own famous poem,
when" that essence rvas in'e p'.e
ted in the irrisistible language of
music.”
Redawsed on a railroad signifies
danger, and say's stop. It is the
same thing display^ed on a man’s
nose.
A celebrated French lighthouse
is that of Fioaux de Brohat, a
recent ei-ection, placed upon a
huge and treaclierous porphyry
rock, for ages a terror for every
seaiiiau who approached the Brit
tany' coast. Its architect had to
encounter every species of obstacle
during Ids work, but, above all,
incessant races and eddies of tlie
sea among the neigliboring sand
banks. Tlie foundations had to
be souglit for heneatli low water;
an artificial port liad to be created;
the necessary' stone tvork was
hewn and shaped on the Island
ot Brehat seven miles distant.
Even when the foundations liad
appeared above the water, tlie
lower wails of the lower story
were submerged twice a day",
leaving heavy deposits of marine
plants, shell, seaweed. The work
men lived in huts upon a reef, to
which they retired when the tide
rose ; and thus they pushed on
their labors, quarrying and squar
ing at one time, arranging and
fixing at another. Theirs was a
masonry almost without mortar.
Tlie blocks were grooved and lit
erally dovetailed together, the
course being connected, as it were
by cogs, so that every part relied
upon every other, the result be
ing, as nearly as possible, an ab
solute cohesion. In spite of tliis
happy issue, the reporting archi
tects would not recommend simi
lar experiments in the future.—
Major G. S. Elliott, U. S. A., in
Van Nostrand’s Eclecic Magazine.
tip
SWIET KETKlBETTOtV.
Shakspeare, the greatest paint
er of character ana life, teaches
many a solemn lesson of the re
tribution that follows crime.
This shrewd plotter of harm to
others finds himself caught in his
own toils. Laertes, who poisons
his sword to kill Hamlet, dies by'
being pierced rvith its poisoned
point.
A similar tragedy happened in
Rome, in those dark days when
the Borgia family' ruled the pa
pal councils, and shocked Europe
by'Mieir scandalous crimes. Rope
Alexander Sixth and his son
Cresar Borgia, invited four car
dinals to a grand dinner. A
flagon of wine had been poisoned,
witli tlie intention of putting these
cardinals out of the way', as tliev
hindered tho execution of some
ambitious schemes. By one of
these acts, vvliich onglit to be
called providences, the flagon was
changed, and the ivine intended
for the guests ivent into the cups
of the Pope and his son. AVitliin
the week the I’ope died, of tertian
ague, so it was reported, but real
ly' of poison. His son, who drank
but little of the wine, and that
mixed with water, escaped death,
but suffered several days from
extreme illness and torture.
An Irish judge said, wlien ad
dressing a prisoner, “You are to
be hanged, and I hope it will
prove a warning to you.”
And Irishman tiaving been
told that the price of bread liad
been lowered, oxclaiuied—“That
is the first time that I ever re
joiced at the fall of my best
friend !”
1 hJ
ffr'i