JOHN LAW,MALONI, N. Y.

O n © y « « r ,• I X B f o n t b a , . . .

STBWTL Y IN ADVANCE.

. . . (V>U should b« miirkod the lon«th of time i.0 ln*«rt«nl, othorwliiu thoy will be continued tl'orbld, or ut thn option of tho publl 'ohargod aooordlngly

FER0U8ON H0U8E,A. U. FLANAGAN, PROPIUHTOR, 0PP<

FRANKLIN H0U8E."

UNION H0U8E,HATRAIHIAY. N. V., II. B. KAHNBWOlwn,IToprlolor. rill* hoimo Is Idinlmbly nrrnnRo dfor theconvoiiUmcu of tlio trawling public, withrpotn* Htflit and airy ntid wttll fiirnlHluxt. Mr.Jflle HoG«rt«. tlio w»ll-knowti ntid favoriln liotolc>«*. UK Mr. Karmworth'H anniHtant. IIAH chariof tfcooffloi. A TOMI llvaryU n , horot.rforronnuctiNl with H)l« IIOIIHO, iinri puritan will Ironvuyu.l (o the Ink.m unit WCXHIH whim KO drillHill. Friw bum, to mid rrom cum.

LA00'8H0TEL,

NATIONAL HOTEL,\IU, N. Y. -S. P. BIZKL, PHOPIUKTOH

£;;;riT^i:;t I T X ^niul furnlHlioil llirou

INTERNATIONAL HOTEL,JSBICB. P II. ALltX, TVO, T'HOPKIBTOR.'HI* llutol I* HI hinted on tl.o l'rovlnco Line, bo-

r'M3J»rfc^^^on*n2ct'owrL<;t ih ip.' i isis i'BSi

>->ntHitl I'ornwul! AIHO ilirout connection withMoiilrunl durlHir mivlipitloii. Dally ntugo to Ma-om>, Ilormi mid Uout Livery attached.

GILES HOTEL,H'SH'S MIU.S, N. Y.8TBPHKNOILB. I uu->rlolor. Hlttintud in tlio most contral and plean-wl part of lliu village. Good uecommodatlonnttnl chargcK rousonnblo. 1,1 very Stable connect-ud, wboro bor*o» anil carriages enn bo (onnd at

ELMWOOD HOUSE,

A. G. CROOKS

TIN, COPPER

6ILBERT.BADGER&KILBURN,

ntwell, Paddock k Cantwell,

J C. 8AUNDER8,

H.A.TAYLOR,

J. D. BECKWITH,'TOUNEY AND COUNSELOR, CIIATEAU-liiy, New YorT.

BEMAN & BRENNAN.'TORNEYS AND COUNSELORS, i)H MAi:Unset, over MmmliiK & Seeley'H Store.*. A.BEMAN. \V. D.BnENNAN.

M- T. 8GANLQN,

BURKE &KILBURN,

ALBERT HOBBS,'TORNEY AND COrNSELOR AT LAW.>(ncc In the f'entenlal Block, over Clark &Barry's Store, Malone, N. Y.

WILSON &MEAR8.'TORNBYtl Ann COUNSELORS AT LAW'ort Oovlngton. N. Y. Special attention paid t

OR. G. J . GRIPPEN,

DR.D.R.BELD1NG,•)MEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN, OFFICE AT NCJElrn Street, recently occupied by Dr.II.CAustin. Prompt attention paid to calls at al

S.S.WENTWORTH,M.D.

F. E.TAYLOR.M.D.S.

6E0RGE W ELKINS,>EAU3R IN HOPS ON COMMISSION EXCLUsively 125 N Water street and 182 N. DelawareAvenue, Philadelphia. References: Union Na-tional Bunk, Philadelphia, Central NationalBank. Philadelphia and the trade generally.—

this market will bo promptly furnished Dn "ap-

LJ.FOLSOM,VERY KBRPKH, MALONE, N^ Y. 8

tT A B ^ E

0. L. BALLARD,SALKRIN AND REPAIRER OF FINECLOCK!Watches and Jewelry, Silver Ware, etc. AmAtfent for the Wilcox & Oibbn Sewing MachineCentennial Block, Mulone, N. Y.

ROBERT BAILEY,-rJBtfT TRAVELERS' INSURANCE CO. OlHartford, Life And Accident; and the railwn;Patscn^er's Assurance Co. of Hartford.

8 . 6 . HUGABOOM,"RACTrCAL BUILDER AND ARCHITECTPlans In Pcrxnoctlve and detail of Building-both Public and Private with Specifications for",nished Term* reasonable and satisfactionSfiiaranteod. «fflce third story, PalladiumBvili-Ing, Malono, N.Y. P.O. Box a»4.

U

VOL. XLI. MALONE, N. Y., FRIDAY, JUNE 27, 1879. NO. 34.

HDBBARD & M A L L O N H SmaUman 4 Totnrth

Unusually well-selected stocl

CARPETS

OIL CLOTHS!

WALL PAPERS

BORDERS!

NUSUALLY LOW PRICES!

The Pattern* of these Gomh wre Ne

•indmmer nor the 2*rices so Law as they

c tiiix Season.

We teiU give Excellent Bargain* to tfa

inting Anything in this Line.

STOVESHOLLOW WARE,

LASS AND WOODEN WARE,

Ttumm K e t t l e s ,C 3 ± t "\^7"

XUEatoIics,

ankee* Notions, Etc.,Centennial Block, Malone.

ROBERT BAILEY'S

IRE INSURANCEAGENCY,

JENTENNIAL BLOCK,

Malone, N. Y.

The undersigned represent* the following

ound and Reliable Companies

Girarti Fire Insurance Co.

rilish America Assurance Co,

St. Joseph Fire and Marine,

.Paul Fire and Marine Ins. Co.

Northern Ins. Co. of N.Y.

Traders' lus. Co. of Chicago.

.ffordio-g Perfect Indemnity .AgainLosa by Fire.

i of public pa

ROBERT BAILEY.

JAMES BROWN,ANUKACTUREROFCARRIAOES, BUGGIES,Umber Waeonn, CuttersStclfflu, etc.-Shop atthofootof Mill Street. None bnt the bent ma-

T. B. CUSHMAN,MANUFACTURER OK MAT0HE8, WEST SIDE

of the river, near the dry bridge. Matches goldat half price.

A.B.0lRttELEE&SON.

All Farmers ought tonow that during the pasl

Winter we have been busi\y engaged in manufactur:ng a quantity of our

KNIFFEN MOWING MACHINES,which we shall offer foisale at very low figures.—There are no better ma-chines in the market thanthe Kniffen We warranthem to give entire satisfaction, and can always furnish extras without delay.

"""'"§*'%

Sash, Doors and Blinds,WINDOW FRAMES,

Newels, Hand Rails, Balusters, Sc ,

ROUGH, DRESSED

AND

Kiln Dried Lumber!MALONE, N. Y.

mdur the control of

R. C.WENTWORTH,

Mt CIUBB of work and guarantee uatlsfactlon In n

Contracts Mads to Erect BuildingsAND FURNISH EVERYTHING.

Door and Window Screens

MADE TO ORDER.

Shop on Duane street, West aide of the River,formerly ow/ied by Jackson & Co., and

later by Silenger &• Lynch.

M a t e Water Wheel Co/s

MACHINE SHOP.

STEAM ENGINES,

Improved Starch Grates,» . —AND-

Machinery of Every DescriptionINCLUDING

i l l .Gearing of A l l Kinds,

NOLAN'S WATER WHEELS,

ihaftings, Pulleys, Hangers,

C I R C U L A R SAWAND

SHINGLE MILLS!

II Repairs Entrusted to Our Care at

REDUCED PRICES,Give us a call and go away satisfied.

JOHN NOLAN, Agent.December 10,1878.

MEDICAL HALL!Wilson & Stephens, Proprietors,

122 Arasden Block, Malone,anstantly on hand and for sale at Bottom Ilard-

Pan Prices:

'RUGS, CANARY SEED,MEDICINES, HEMP SEED,&OOTS, R A P E SEED,

HERBS, M A W S E E D ,

randy, Wine, Whisky, Gin, Rum,PROOF SPIRITS AND ALCOHOL,

!or Medicinal and Mechanical Purposes.

BRUSHES!21olh, nat, Hair, Hand, Nail, Tooth, Shaving and

C O M B S !ibbfir-coarae and fine-Ivory, Horn and Metal

PERFUMES!U the standard kinds of the day, Pomades, &c.

N O T I O N S !JckctBooke, Card Caaea, Wallets, Match Safes, &

STATIONERY !,cgal. Foolscap, Letter, Note and Fancy Paper,

Pencils, Pencil Hcnds, Pens and PenHolders, Ink, &c.

FANCY AND PLAIN CANDIES!

assured that all proscriptions will be care-lly and promptly attended to by experi-

enced and expert hands.

MIGHT CALLS!e shall make it a specialty to attend to all nighi

calls, and for this pnrpoae gpecial arrango-ments have been made for the accom-

modation of onr CQBtomers.TrHstlng to the generosity of an appreciatingbllc for a proportionate share of their patron-

ge, We remain* &c,

GEO. K. WILSON, RUFUS n. STEPHENS.

WM. CALDWELL,Carriage and Sleigh Maker,

MILL STREET, MAL0NE, N. Y.,

Manufacturer of all kinds of

carriages, Buggies, Sleighs,Cutters and Wagoas,

FROM THE BEST OP MATERIAL AND INT H E LATEST STYLE-

H.D. MOODY & CO.,COMMISSION MERCHANTS,

NO. 18 JAY STREET, NEW YORK,

Between Greenwich & Washington.

Butter, Cheese, Hops, &c.REFERENCES:

Long had the barn, with dusky yawn,Its urotul and rafted loft displayed;

Which strowod like Bpots npon a fawn,Showed freokliug epocke of light and shade.

Through knot-holes, chinks, and clefts mado waEyelets oiid streaks like tangled a trows;

Here, on a wimp's nest knobbed in clay,There, on a spider's houso of gauze,

One broad ray through tho window shot,Mottlod with motes and richly toned;

Dashing upon one duiaty spot,

Whore tho (lorce yullow hornet droned.

Two diamond dots a rat's koen eyes,Shone in tho shadow or a nook;

And llko a hell tho buzz of fllosCamo lulling aB a murmuring brook,nt now without a rumbling roll!Up JolU a haycurt from the croft,

And soon from off tho tawny knoll,Loads on bont pitchforks roach tho loft.

Old Dobbin fltrcainlng o'er with hair,1'lukn the looao hay, whilo noda li!n mate,llttlo doacs, and with ataro

iVnd stamp, iho pert colt guards the gate.The red farm Rate, with touching swing,

And sloek Tom purring on tho post;Opening the lano where hoof and wing

Make up tho farmyard's living boat,i Bweopa the hay, tho haymow nils,Tho hay cart lessens, muscles ply

On till tho Biwuhlno scarcely drill!Rays through the window's blinded eye.

.nd now tho wasp's whlto knob Is hid,The hornet nooks in vain JtB chink,

And whore the knot-holos showorod amidi loft, rich rain, not oven a blink.

mangled birds the scythe destroyed;And twilight wakes the head-down bat

That through tho knot-hole sklmB tho void.A breathing silence, save the sound

Of Insects trickling through the hay,livopt up wlthlu the tawny moundAnd searching for the vanished day,

In Winter wealth tho full mow yieldsBelow to dozing plow-worn gray;

Red Crumple finds the Snmmor fieldsRenewed In wreaths of juicy hay.d when Spring comes, dry sacda will tellibovo, within the yawning loft

Where tho plump haymow's downy swellsated its full wealth and bosom soft.

- Alfred B. Street.

THE F O O L ' S FARM.

John Mosgar was a wealthy farmer withirac few hundred acres of land, half of

which was fertile and well tilled, and" theither half a range of rocky upland, fromvhicli nature drew forth nothing save' a

scanty, almost worthless woods. The bet-ter half of the farm was well stocked and

:11 ordered; the farm-house was the beatin Ihe village of Daleford, and thejout-

uildings were the envy of the neighbors.John Mosgar had a knavish brother andfoolish son—his only relatives. Robert,

:he brother, by a just dispensation of Prov-idence, was a man of comparative indi-gence, but his brother John overlooked his

mlts, and saw only his poverty and rela-:ionship; and when dying, he called Rob-

•t to his bedside, and placing the hand ofis son Daniel in his, adjured him to pro-

ect the imbecile for his father's sake.The fool smiled, and the knave smiled,

oo; the one tickled with the idea of hav-ng a new friend, the other at having aicw victim, easily to be plucked and ruin-id.

"I will see after him, John," said Rob-:rt, with a look of assumed affection forLis nephew. "I will prove a father to himvhen you are gone, and I will turn thearm to the best possible account, that'our spirit if it still hover about the earth,

may he pleased with what I shall do.""Enough, Robert; adieu. We shalleet again in heaven. Farewell, my poor

brain-wrecked son!" gasped the dying

"Goodbye, father," grinned Daniel,isting his body awkwardly about.—

"Hope you'll have a pleasant journey—he,ic!"

John Mosgar died, aDd lawyer Twist-veil's assistance was called in to settle the

affairs. It had been the expressed will ofVIr. Mosgar that his estate should be equal-ly divided between his son and his brother."Half to one and half to the other," wereis words, though the wisdom which

prompted them was not quile equal to thatif King Solomon.

Lawyer Twistwell, at Ihe instigation ofRobert Mosgar, made a cruel construction

ill, and awarded the better half,ill fertile and arable land, lo the flncle;—

hile the meaner portion, consisting ofmeagre woodland and rocks, fell to theshare of poor Daniel.

The more heartless and unprincipled ofthe neighbors laughed at the fool whenthey heard of the award, and congratulat-ed him upon receiving so much ' 'good up-land." He, too, was well pleased, and ca-pered about, singing mad songs, to find

taster of so much land. He;hought his the better portion, and bound-ed over it with boisterous glee, climbingthe trees, tearing up and hurling the rocksabout, plucking up tho bushes, leapingdown declivities, and drinking of theitream, as if he would convince each inan-imate object that he was the sole lord andproprietor.

The rough waste which had been be-itowed upon the witless, friendless crea-ture, through the connivance of the law-yer Twistwell, suited his fool's tastes to acharm; for there he might wander in un-disturbed Bolitude, in idiot "meditation,

tncy free," unconscious of the wealth ofwhich he had been robbed by his uncle.—One little hut alone stood on it, and thatserved for his home; and his bodily wantsvere supplied by such of Ihe neighbors asibtained their fuel from his "farm."

' 'The Lord will never prosper him whosteals his treasure from a fool," said oneof these neighbors to her husband.

He shrugged his shoulders with a"humph," for he was conscious of havingrepeatedly drawn more wood than he hadbargained for from the ^'fool's farm," and

willing to believe in heaven's angerthereat.

•Heaven helps those who help them-rcs," he drily replied, casting an eye

out at the mammoth pile of brushwood,•r which he had paid but a trifle in bar-

His wife seemed to understand the look,but she sighed as ahe poked the lire on thehearth.

"Poor Daniel," she exclaimed, "I hopehe will never suffer from cold or hunger;but he seems to be in a fair way for it,with his uncle on one side and a selfish

-orldon the other. His half was littlienough as it was, and all that is good uponit is fast dwindling away. What will hedo when the wood IB all gone?"

"Wehad better be thinking of ouf own

fools. As for Daniel, no doubt he is hap-pier now than many wiser people."

"Happier than hia uncle, I'lbbo bound,"said the woman, "well off in worldlygoods though ho bo. Old Moagar alwayslooks distressed, suspicious and timid,if ho thought all tho neighbors despisedhim for taking advantage of his nephew.And so they do. And though everythinglooks well for him in a worldly way, therewill come some; change yet, depend uponIt."

"Perhaps so, and perhaps not," repliedtho husband indifferently. "But get tinpudding ready, at any rale, for I'm in ahurry to be off."

8o they smotherod their sympathy withpudding, and forgot the fool.

So.ne one talked with Daniel about hia,rm, and found him satisfied."What will I do> with my rocka?" said

he, with a vacant, self-satisfied smile.—•Pile 'em up. Make walls and forts.—

They will last longer than wood and never

"But you've got no cattle, Daniel,-norcrops."

"I couldn't tako care of them, if I had.I can get enough meal and triilk to eat,aud I don't care to work. I want to play

ith tho children and walk about. UncleRobert can't do it. I am much better oilthan he is."

"Your wood will bo all gone Boon.—Then what will you do? You've got nomoney."

"It will bo time enough for me then lopull up my rocks and plant aced," said he,looking wko. "And I'll do it all myself,!so that the seed will know me when it

omes up, and bow to me in the morning'hen I walk in the fields. Oh, I don't!ire for anything or anybody or anything'ith my farm!" he chuckled, flinging him!3lf upon the ground and turning somer-

sets in his torn clothes. "Ha! hal hat ButI'm not proud," he added, rising and look-ing grave. "That's the reason I play withthe dogs, and the boys, and the ducks, and

geese, aud laugh when I roll in thestraw."

The idiot seemed so contented that noneired long to dwell upon the great wrong

he had suffered; and so his Uncle Robertleft in undisturbed possession of what

he had fradulently acquired. Pity for thefriendless fool was not cfeep enough to

•ousc opposition against tlio influentialicle.But it was not long ere Daniel's wood ,

was thoroughly swept away, leaving him!but the barren surface of the rocks onwhich to rest his hopes of support—and

hunger compelled him to beg at tbe 'doors of his neighbors, for his uncle for-bade him to cross his threshold—averse tothe presence of such a standing reproachto his iniquity, and thinking to drive himupon the pauper1 maintenance of the town.

Alas! the lord of the farm was a pitiablesight to see, as he wandered, half naked, ;

•m door to door in Daleford, gffering'ires in his rocks for bread, and with noire of those vacant smiles which had)wn his elation in his time of imaginary '.

wealth. Distress had -now joined handspith idiocy, and the dream of comfort had i•anished from even the fool's brain. The 'Laggard skeleton in his life of chanceound casual sustenance enough to keeplis soul with his body still; but that ghast-

ly aspect of human life was more mockingthan even his sterile apology for a ' 'farm."Slow and sad was the step of the saunter-

care crow through the town, the mel-ancholy cynosure of pointing fingers, thedesolate victim of shameless relationshipand a shattered brain. Alas for the spec-

ial landed proprietor! Had Heaven's all-embracing glance no ray to guide his list-less feet?

One day, as instinct sent him begging,after dinner time, for the dismal miscella-ny of his daily food, a Summer storm dark-ened the heavens and the earth, and pealsif thunder startled all animated things.—

The flowers bowed in terror, and the in-riaible milliners who deck the bonnet of

nature flew to their most secret haunts.—But the fool stalked abroad in the peltingrain, and lifted his lack-lustre eyes.to the•urious source of the tempest, half-amazed,

half-delighted at the intermittant fires.Suddenly a shriek "was heard along the

road, and looking backward, he saw upona frightened horse a young maiden of thevillage, clinging to the mane of the gal-loping animal, which, snorting with alarm,approached him.

Daniel Mosgar was a fool, but he was aan. A wise one might have stepped.

aside in fear, but Daniel quickly seized abroken bough by the wayside, and, bran-dishing the huge weapon for a moment,darted into the middle of the road; and,is the wild, careering steed came thunder-;ng on with his insensate burden, with awell directed blow the limb waa broughtin contact with the horse's head. Theconcussion was tremendous, and the antmal, panting and quivering, witn swelleJ''eins, fell heavily to the rain-rolling

ground.Happily for the girl, whose hold was

upon his mane, she was hanging to theopposite side to that on which he fell, andbefore the half-stunned animal could strug-gle to his feet again, the idiot, inspired by'the emergency, sprang forward and pulledthe maiden from her perilous position.—The shouts of approaching men, one of

•hom was her father, attracted his atten-tion, and in a few moments the girl, stillunconscious, was in her parent's arms. • •J

"Well done, Daniel. God bless you tormy daughter's life!" waa the grateful ex-clamation of Mr. Fontley, as the party,bearing the girl and leading the now pas-sive horse, proceeded to his house near by.

"You have done that which I shall nev-forget, and I will do what I can to repay

you, poor fellow!—but he does not under-stand me," added the father, shaking Jushead, as the fool, • unheeding, followedthem, proudly brandishing the hugebranch with which he had felled the horse,and smiling at it. "What agents the Al-

lighty sometimes chooses for his works!"continued Mr. Fontley. "A fool has beenthe means of saving my only child from abloody grave!" • - '• >• \

Helen Fontley was but fifteen on thatday of her great danger, and was reluming,home from a customary jaunt when over-taken by the storm. The father waswealthy, and centered In her all his mostcherished hopes. The heroic deed of Dan-iel affected Fontley deeply, and filled himwith active compassion for the unfortuflate.|young man. He resolved td be hia friefcd,and he was so. Out of the mouth of thethunder followed blessings ior the fooL—

next day Mr. Fontley rode over to the"fool's farm," and made a brief survey ofit, Daniel and a few others accompanyinghim.

"What do you think of the division ofthe property?" was the question of one.—"Was it not cruel?"

"Daniel, como to my house. Cruel V—Ko," replied Mr. Fontley, his face bright-ening up with a meaning smile, as theyleft the sterile uplands! "Robert Mosgardid a greater favor to hia nephew by thedivision than his ignorance intended, if Iam not much mistaken. But we shall seesoon how it turna out."

From that day Daniel was provided am-ply for in the houac of Mr. Fontley, andmeanwhile tho secret of the lattcr's wordsbecame revealed, The "fool's farm" prov-ed rich in coal. The experienced eye ofFontloy had detected in the course of hiavisit to it indications which had escaped

ce^f^all others, and which subse-quent pjpspecting proved fully true.—Those barren undulations of soil containeda mighty mine of coal, and the wealth ofthe grateful and delighted Fontley devel-oped tho black treasure for the benefit ofDaniel.

Numerous workmen were soon employ-l on the before derided waste, and Dale-

ford in a few years derived its chief im-portance from those fields. Capital andenterprise w^re attracted to tho town, andhundreds of families were supported bylabor in the'mineral "bowels of the harm-loss earth,*' and the star of the foolsuddenly up in tho sky of benefaction.—Fontley, his patron and self appointedagent, was true to his graceful instinctsand hia important trust, and Daniel Mos-gar,became the possessor of untold wealth.

As if Heaven's rebuke were designed tobe immediately manifest, tho strata didnot extend into the land of Robert Mos-gar, and he saw with double mortificatior.the contrasted wealth of the nephew lithad despoiled. Between his efforts tcmake any purchase of a part of the "fool'sfarm," or all of it, at any price, stood thesagacious, watchful and honest Fontley;and of what pitying Providence had heldin mysterious reserve for the day of theidiot's destitution, the mind and heart ofFontley became the executor and theguard. *

Nor Was this' all of the fortune of thefool. In his youth he had been "bright,"as the saying is; but a disease of the brainhad settled there, converting it into idiocy.Years of dull darkness had left no hopefor a revolution of reason, but now the

of folly had expired. The suddenchange in his lot threw Daniel into a stateof feverish exultation, which resulted insevere sickness, from which skillful treat-

;nt raised him gradually to health andsense again.

It appeared as if joy had started andhloosened from his brain the disease whichhad made him idiotic, and the long latentbane was expelled forever. He arose anew man I Man, in the sane and gloriouscontrol of all his faculties. Man, in thifull possession and free use of that immor

I, without which we would be ofno kin nor part of the Creator, nor drthat our final home and harbor is in thebosom of our yearning God. A man!—Fool no more; and like one who wakesfrom some long vision of dread images,he moved and spoke with an unladenmind, and wept in joy at the cominthe morning of his liberty.

The tears of Fontley and his daughterere freely mingled with his—a happy

trio. And still prosperity, with brighteismiles, marched fondly on with him. Thedarkness fitly fell on the other side of thecanvass, and the justice of God was vindi-

ited.The harvests of Robert Mosgar bee

the prey of various misfortunes. Theywere backward, scant, here covered bytoo much heat; and there destroyed bytempests. Murrain blighted his cattle, firedestroyed his buildings, and as if the hos-tility of the elements and of man were notpunishment enough, sickness prostrated

t, and in the midst of his ruining ad-versity, his only children died.

So fled the promise of • the better farm.So perished, like a golden mist of sunset,the vision of the villain. When he recov-ered from the couch of physical prostra-tion, he learned for the first time of all thegood fortue of the nephew he had wrong-ed—his reason added to his riches—hisfurther bliss—his union with his benefac-tor's daughter. Then walked Robert Mos-gar forth into the air, and confessed, inanguish, his wickedness. He beat hishreast, and strode among the ruined fields,and knelt and sobbed aloud:

"Now, 0 Lord,! know my sin I Andthough my heart ia.broken.it is purified."

And so ends the story of the "fool'sfarm." So closes it with amoral. Letnot the oppressor be too confident. Thechanges of a New England April are not

[.so great as the changes of man's estate ;—and they who exult, in cruel self-reliance,over the unfortunate and unhappy, maytake their place to-morrow.

AND SO June is upon us—June the roy-il, the sumptuous, which turns the heads

of the poets and intoxicates and inspiresthem to rhapsodical pmans in their praise—June the flowerful, the odorous, the op-ulent—June, when Love who went a-May-tng finds sweet realization—June,

When the twilights are the longest,And mellowest the.moon,

When it! the world's * symphonyAnd ever; heart's a tone-

June, when the tremulous fields and thewoods and the choral rivers and

the dozing hills and the—oh 1 yes, and you,you diabolical, demoniacal essence of evil,whose name is fly—oh! yes, June bringsyou along with her—yes June—oh lyes.June's awfully nice, June is awfully, tre-mendously, terrifically nice, June is—June, yes, yes, June,

—Lou. Gour. Journal.

Gradually but surely the Republican or-gans arc coming to the conclusion that the

jsent Democratic programme of actiontbe appropriation bills is not "a back-

down" at all, but rather an advance alongthe whole line that "means business" of afo decided character. They begin tosee that by the new policy the Democrats

not only likely to gain free electionsfor a year, but leave, the question open forfurther disastrous exposure of the Repub-lican poticy. and they are consequently in-clined to regret that they didV not allowHayes to approve the biBsas. originallypassed, and $hu# end the damaging agita-ftp* ^-3*ribrifcfe position Is certlln-

Why BHhop Ame. Sat S o w n .

Rev. J., C. Ambrose tells tho followinginteresting story in the N. Y. Independent.-Edward R. Ames, a late distinguishedbishop of the Methodist Church, began hiaministry in Illinois; and, after becomingbiahop, he always seemed especially hap-py in holding the annual conferences inthat State. More than twenty years agohe was presiding over the conference insession at St. Charles, a villago forty mileswest from Chicago, when there occurredan accident that beautifully illustrated hischaracter, won for him tho lasting affections of his clergy in those parts, and pub-lished an insight into his early life. Thodetails of the story I gather from one whowas present.

A motion had been under consideratifor some time, and the Biahop, apparentlythinking that enough had been said, aroseto close the debate. At the same instanlan elderly preacher, not observing themovement of the Bishop, stood up to addhis views; when a brother tugged at hiscoat and signaled so that worthy saw tlimaneuver, recognized the man with a nmark to offer, and, dropping into his cliaiisaid:

"Speak on, my good brother. BishopAmes always sits down when Fatlnclair has anything to say."

The large company of ministers weremuch amazed; first looked seriously intothe faces of one and another; then gradu-ally relaxed into mutual smiles, thinkingthe grave official had suddenly laid asidedignity for a little pleasantry at tJicpensc of Father Sinclair. But the BL r

was far from the joking mood. FatherSinclair, alone in all the house understoodhis motive, and was so embarrassethat ho said but little on the question h.had risen to, then sat down, flushed withconfusion; while the auditors wondc.™

'hat surprise the Bishop had next in storefor them. All bent upon him a gaze that

;med to solicit explanation. The Bishop understood the glances, and respondedHis imposing form once more had thefloor. His ever kind face betrayedtion; and the last trace of a smile fadedfrom the faces of the people as they look-ed into his. He proceeded, with evidei

litation, about as follows:'Brethren," said he, "I see that you ai

surprised over my remark to Father Siuclair. I think I can relate a little storythat will fully satisfy you that BishopAmes does well to always sit down whenFather Sinclair has anything to say. Upward of twenty-five years ago I knew ayoung man just starting out to preach. Hehad been converted several years before,while in college, and thought he had £clear call to the work of the ministry. Hihad been licensed by his quarterly confer-ence, and had tried hard for one year tcmake headway in the pulpit, or ratheischool-houses, of a frontier circuit. Bui

le very poor work of preaching. Itwas not then permissible for a Methodistminister to take into the pulpit a manuscript, or even a note, and continue to IKthought orthodox. That young marwould get through his opening prayer andhymns, commence his sermon, lose thethread of it before he was half through,stumble on for a little time further in a3tammeriug, incoheiit finished, or break down completely intears and deepest mortification; and that,too, with a half-dozen grayhaired pilgrims

him, who could stand up and talkby the hour. And still that young matpersisted in thinking that he had a call Upreach.

"But at the end of his first year the al-ost unanimous voice of the conferenceas that the youth had mistaken his call-

ing, and that it would be trifling witli sa-cred interests to renew his license. Justbefore the vote was taken a friendly milister, for whom all had great respect andwho knew much of the candidate's prayersand struggles, stood up and professed 8belief'in his 'call' and urged a renewal oihis license. And, against conviction, bul

a mark of personal regard for the friend-ly minister, the young man's license topreach was renewed for another year.

"His second year in the ministry w«slly a slight improvement over the first.

If hia public work effected any good, itie of tears, not of talk. And when hein asked to have credentials contii

there was a very decided expressionamong the official brethren that the youngman might be very pious; but it was clearthat he couldn't preach. They had triedhim two years. That was probationenough for any man with a clear 'call.'When again the same kindly voice of that•friendly minister' plead with the presid-ing elder, in private and with public con-ference to try the zealous boy onceHis last chance was given; but very re-luctantly, and not at all on judgment, butas a favor to his friend.

"Brethren," continued the Bishop, withchoked utterance and tears coursing dowihis cheeks, "that 'friend' was Father JohiSinclair, and that 'boy* was Edward R.Ames. Now you know why Bishop Amesalways sits down when Father Sinclai;has anything to say."

The Bishop sat down, while every eyein the house ran tears over a joyous face.The conference took an informal intermitsion, while Father Sinclair received a

ktion of thanks from all for having s«iiedthe boy and made the Bishop. Hisperception of a young man's call to preach

'as never after questioned.

Too Much Pinafore.

[Watertown Times.]Everybody goes to the newspapers for

redress of grievances, aud although mycase may be without remedy, still being

i, I cannot keep sileQt. l a m lit-erally being "Pinafored" to death. Myyoung people have gone mad over thatmongrel play, and I hear nothing elsefrom morning till night but discussionstpon the merits of the different actors and

actresses engaged in its repretentation.Their excitement is increasing until itsheight has become "really quite alarm ing."Fancy, if you can, my daughter Edith atthe piano directly after breakfast shriek-

igout "Farewell, my own, light of mylife, farewell," and Mary iu the back par-lor insisting in a still higher key, that she

"Called Little Battercup, though shecannot tell why," while their brotherGeorge, in the dining room, is shouting atthe top of his voice, that "He'd polishedup the handle of the big front door," Boincessant has become the repetition ofthese snatches, of operatic nonsense, that I

falling into the same]

A few evenings since my minister called—and so earnestly had we been engagedin considering the cheapest method ofclothing tho benighted heathen, that thehour had grown late when he arose to de-part. Suddenly tho parlor door flew openand in strode George, bawling in tonesthat might have been heard a block away"Ho la aftEngllshman, and it's greatly tohis credit." Then seeing my visitor, hestopped and begged pardon. "But," saidhe, "really, Mr. Steadfast, you shouldhave been at tho theatre tonight; the Ad-miral waa really immense." Tho goodman looked shocked, and as for mo, I was•toady to faint, and you might have knockcd me down with a feather after what fol-lowed, for in a voice of great solemnityMr. Steadfast addressed the wretched boy

'Young man, do you never think ..our latter end?" "Well," replied George,nth a shrug and a grin, "h-a-r-d-1-y ever.'think tho good man was disgusted, foro passed out with tho remark that he was

afraid George was a very wicked youngman. It was long before I fell asleep thatnight; my nerves were quite upset. Just

I was entering the realm of Nod, aind reached my eors-a mournful wail

— of some one in distress—and Ellen, mjyoungest, who sleeps with me, heard it.•oo, and muttered dreamily, "Oh, isn't it

uite alarming?" Going to the hall I dis-overcd that the noise proceeded fromJeorge's room. With flying feet I ran uptairs; perhaps he was ill. 111? Not a bitf it; but he sat in undressed uniform be-ore the window, howling at the moon and

asking it, "Why everything was either atsixes or sevens." "Oh, why are you not

bed?" I cried, "it ia two o'clock in themorning. You will be the death of me,I continued; "come, get to bed this mo-ment," and I began pulling him from hisseat. "Refrain, audacious tor," he roaredeasily pulling me out of the room andlocking the door. "Ellen," said I, as Icrept back into the bed, "that boy is a lu-natic." "And so are his sisters, his cous-ins and his aunts," chanted the half-asleepgirl. You see how it is, Mr. Editor. Doyou think we shall ever hear the last of'Pinafore?" COUSIN HEBE.

Seasonable ThoagbCs.

LAtnr. Cultlvator-1We are already in the middle of the

"green and flowery June" of the poets,and well does it deserve the epithet. Whatthe weatherwise called a "dry moon" inMay, that is, a moon with the horns 1ed up, brought us, nevertheless, the fre-quent accompaniment of drenching raimand that just at a time when a week <scorching weather rendered such a supplyof moisture desirable. Under its benigninfluence the foliage burst forth with un-exampled vigor tw full luxuriance. Andnow what a glorious spectacle is present-ed by our little urban paradise—BostonCommon and the Public Garden! Goforth, O, sluggish reader, while the graydawn is reddening into the flush of sun-rise, and gladden your eyes with the em-erald of the verdant turf and the heapedup towers of whispering leaves, listen tcthe song of the birds among the branches,drink in pure air from the southwesternhills, and bless the kindly charity and fore-sight which bequeathed this munificentestate to the city of Boston in perpetuity.Even the denizens of the country wouldfind it worth while to visit the city jus1for the sake of an early morning stroll onBoston Common.

June, fairest daughter of the year, brighichild of the sunbeam, comes tripping onher way, clothed in a fairy garland offlowers, surmounted by an atmosphere offragrant odor and crowned with a halo oiempyreal brightness, while beneath herlight footsteps tho flowers spring up spon-taneously. Emerald verdure clothes thebroad meadows and the sloping terraces,along tho borders varied flowers lift theircharming heads, "each cup a pulpit andeach leaf a book." The wild floweiclothed in rainbow colors, feel that theirgala-day has arrived, and that they are tomarshal in the teeming Summer hours.More genial skies, a maturer verdure anda prouder floral assemblage of wild andcultivated varieties accumulate to gladdenthe senses. The modest Spring blossomsare hidden by the prouder and more lux-uriant foliage of -the advancing season; violets and anemones, shrink modestly awaybehind taller ferns and heavy shrubbery.But we can never forget the early flowersof Spring, that always bring with themthe greatest degree of pleasure. Our af-fections seem immediately to expand atthe sight of the first opening blossom un-der the sunny nook or sheltered bank,however humble it may be.

We can scarcely touch upon this themeof flowers without a glow of enthusiasmand an innate sense of love for these sa-cred emblems of nature, never quite yielding the fixed fondness for the» first blos-soms of the year. With Summer flowerswe seem to live as with our neighbors—iipleasant harmony and good will, but thoseof Spring are cherished as private friend-ships. The cultivation of flowers is, of allthe diversions and occupations of life, the

to be selected and approved as themost innocent in itself, most devoid of in-jury to others, and withal the most refin-ing and elevating in its influence. Theyore entwined with our dearest and tender-est associations. The bride goes to the al-tar with the orange flower on her. brow,and the maiden to the grave with a whiterose-bud on her bosom. Their perfumebreathes all through the poetry of theages, and they are full of suggestivencssin whatever connection we regard them,

ispiring our appreciation like soul stir-ring music.

Were I, O God, in chnrchlesa lands remaining.Far from all voice or teachers of divines,

My soul would find in flowers of Thy ordaining,Priests, sermons, shrines I"

THE title of D. D. needs illuminating.or, historically it is a myth, practically a

forgery, intellectually a humbug, politi-cally a figure-head, financially of flat value,diotically skim milk, musically a flat, geo-logically a fossil, botanically a cabbagehead, philosophically a speculation, scrip-turally a vanity of vanities, mathematical-ly- an unknown quantity, gramatieallyregular, irregular and defective, and reallylike faith, "the substance of things hoped* w, the evidence of things not seen."

A woman cured her husband of stayingout late at night, by goings to the doorwhen he came home and whispering.through the Iwyhple, • # tiakWil

bUcoMfonli eondtated by *Conwitt«eo*the Ifalone Women', Temjiewii* SoctotM

8AVB I H E BOY.

Once he eat npon my knee,looked from sweet eyet Into mine,

Questioned me §o vondtooalyOf the mysteries divine;

Once he fondly clasped my neck,Pwwed my cheek with klne* 8We,t.

O my heartl we little reck

Where may rove the ptectoai feet.

Once his tough with merry ringFilled on? hoiue with mute tare,

And his loving hands would bringWreaths of blossoms for my hair.

O the merry, happy gpritelConstant, ceaseless source of Joyt

Bat to-night, O Godt to-night,

Where, oh! where'* my wandering hoy!

'Midst the glitter and the glaraOf the room where death 1B dealt,

Scarce you'd know him, bat he's there,He who once so reverently, knelt

At my knee and softly spokeWord* into the ear of God.

0 my heart! 'Us smitten, broke;

Crnshed, I bend beneath the rod.

0 Ihls enrse! that spoiled my boy,Led him down and down to death,

Robbed me of my rarest joy,Made a pang of every breath.

Mothers, fathers, hear my plea ILet your pleading* pierce tbe sky;

Pray and work moat earnestly;Let ns save onr boys or die!

-Youth-'/, Ttmperanee Banner.

Temperance andjrotal AfeMInence.

lo fa Editor of the Tribune.Sin: On my return to the city after

aomo two months' absence, I read in yourSaturday's edition a notice of the meeting,held Friday evening at Chickering Hall,of the "Business Men's Society for theEncouragement of Moderation."

Permit me, as one who for half a centuryhas been identified with the temperancereformation, to express my satisfaction thatgentlemen of such prominence have organ-ized for the purpose of discouraging thehabit of public drinking end treating: forthough I should go strong for their firstpledge, that of total abstinence, yet I amgratified with any movement looking tothe downfall of the babit of fashionable orsocial drinking, and can but hope thatmuch good may resultirom the movement.1 regret very much that the secretary, Mr.Hadley, should have thought it necessaryto say, as he is reported to have said, "thatafter a century in which total abstinenceand prohibition had had uninterruptedpossession of the field, drunkenness was

ore than ever on the increase."Now if Mr. Hadley had reference to our

city and to the number of drinking placesipported, principally by our foreign popu-

lation, 1 would not attempt to contradicthis statement; but I bej» to differ entirelywith him if he refers to the result of thetemperance or prohibitory efforts through-out our country. He says "after a cen-;Hry." The fact is it is only about sixtyyears since the first systematic efforte werecommenced by those noble men, Drs.Edwards, Beecher, Hewitt and Nott, andmany others, and it is only about half thattime since the tfea of prohibition wasstarted.

But those of us who can go back to thevery com menceraent of the temperance ref-ormation, know that in all parts of the

itry outside our large cities there hasbeena most remarkable change in the habitsand customs of the great mass of the peopleas the result of the temperance efforts.Then-there was hardly a family of anystandings that sat down to dine withoutsome kind of intoxicating drink on the

ible. Men were hardly expected to worka the farm or in the shop without their

regular allowance. It was kept in everycountry store; was used at all public gath-erings; and in my remembrance, was pass-ed among the attendants at fauerals. Aayou sat down at the hotel tables every second man had his bottle or glass of somekind of intoxicating drink. Now we knowthat to a great extent this is changed. Govhere you will throughout the country,it down to the tables of the great majority•f our families, and you will find no kind

of intoxicating drinks. Sit down in ourhotels on the great lines of travel, and

will not see one person using strongdrink where fifty years ago you would -

ive seen ten.

Had it not been for the vast increase ofpopulation from the Old World during tbepast half century, the results of the greattemperance movement would have beenmore apparent. But those of us who havewatched it feel that ita progress has beenmo9t encouraging.

I have just returned after an absence ofco months, in which I have travelled

through ten States and ovei 2,000 miles,^ I have seen less drinking and fewer

drunkards tban ever before in the sameme and distance.But tbe longer I live, and the more I ex-

nine the subject, the more fully a m ijnvinced that the only hope for one who

has an appetite for strong drink is totalnence. No auch thing as moderation

can ever save him. And knowing this, Ifeel it my duty to take Paul's position—'touch not, taste not, handle not"—lest byny example I make my weak brother lo>ffend.

But, while this new movement is in theight direction, and yet does not go the'till length, I wish it God-speed, and trusthat many of its members will take the

pledge which stands first—ihe pledge oftotal abstinence. Yours in the good:ause, WM. liL DODGE.

New York, April 15, 1879.

A TEMPERANCE lecturer, Campbell bytame, thus reasons: "Make youc wife'our barkeeper. Lend her $3 10 buy &

gallon of whisky. When you want adrink pay ten cents for it. An average ofsixty-five drinks to a gallon will give her$6.50. Sue can then pay you back the | 3 , ,

f another gallon and stilt have a bal-w left of 12.50. Keopingonintbisway \

she will have money enough to supportyou when you have become a confirmedinebriate, and will be able to take care of

until you are ready to fill a drunkard'sgrave."

THE corner stone of the temperance. en*terprise is total abstinence. Tne one, aurentidote for rum selling is total abstinence'he only gospel for the drawing rooms of .

the rich and for the hovels of the poor is;o "look not" and touch not the drink that)iteth like a serpent. It is labor wasted

and time lost to make any endeavor tostop drunkenness except by stopping peo->le from drinking. That means total ab-

stinence. Every pulpit ought to preach it.Every Christian—yes 1 every man, womanand child that possesses common sens*ought to practice it. Even liquor sellerslaugh at the folly of opposing their busi-

as and yet drinking their liquors.—T..yler.

MR. BeDnett, publisher of the Iowa''Journal, and Justice sf the Peace, says t

" I am a Prohibitionist because of the';aod results of the law in this place (Del-nar). Six months prior to its enforcement''h arrests were over sixty; for the eight

months under, the law, dnty three arrests.";;

A PETCTION was presented to the City:

Council of Gbjoago liitetyj ^gioa by t l»te Roman Catholic Bishop Foley, tlie;

^^s^^m^SM^