The School-boy's Reform.

Of all the teachers whose temper was tried, Whose patience was taxed, and whose rule was defied, By the giddiest set of troublesome boys Who glojied in fun and revelled in noise. Who hated restraint and loved a good game, Aud never confessed to the slightest of shame, Poor Dominie Price was the most to be

pitied, He seemed to be born to be done and out

witfed. The most troublesome boy of that troublesome lot, Beyond any doubt, was Timothy Spot, He would sit in the school with a good tem pered face, And mb ist every boy to get into disgrace ; Slick pi ns into seats, play at even and odd, Cared for nothing and no one, nor even the d.

Dominie Price, 'tis my duty to add, a kind-hearted man, and he felt very sad, "When he thought of youDg Spot and his rick etty ways, And knew be would be but a dunce all his days. It grieved him to think that the boy was bo wild, •For, in spite of his mischief, he still loved the child. One day Master Spot was unusually gay, For tricks he'd been playing the whole of the day ; And Dominie Price, though uncommonly kird, To thrash the young rascal had made up his mind ; He was hoisted aloft and bis back was laid bare, And the rod was a-swinging above in the air; But no, the kind heart of the master would not Allow it to fall upon Timothy Spot. The boy, thus forgiven, looked up in surprise, And saw a large tear in the Dominie's eyes, A tear of compassion, large, glistening, round, It rolled down his cheeks and it fell on the ground, And a tear to match that which had fallen

before Now lay side by side on the school-master's floor. Slowly back to his seat Master Timothy went, And thinking,the rest of the evening he spent; And after the duties of school hours were done 'Stead of scampering off with the others tor fun, He went to the teacher, and said " From this

day, I will try to behave in a different way; 'Iwas the tear, not the birch, that I could not

withstand," Then warmly the school-master grasped his

hand, And over a cup of most excellent tea,

The pair got as happy as happy could be ; .And then, ere the pupil had risen to go,

The Bible was brought; in tones clear and low, The school-master read from the old sacreil

page Of the follies of youth and the counsels of age. He read of a time when to laugh and to cry, Of a time to be born, and a time when to die ; And ere wishing good-bye at the old cottage door, He said, "My dear boy, I've got one lesson - more, And ponder my words, for my locks are now hoary, 'Tib only the wise that inheriteth glory." The years passed away, and the school-master's face Was no more to be seen in that dear old place. He had gone to his rest many years ago, To that land of whose blessedness no heart may know ; But the boy, as a teacher, has since won a name. And his works are enrolled in the annals of

fame ; Yet be still loves to tell, and men love still to

hear Of the power of love in tbe schoolmaster's tear

In the Reservoir.

YotT may see some of the best society in New York on the top of the distributing reservoir, any of these fine October morn ings. There were two or three carriages in waiting, and half a dozen senatorial looking mothers with young children, pacing the parapet, as we basked there the Other day in sun-hine —now watching the pickeral that glide along the lucid edges of the black pool within, and now looking off upon the scene of rich and wondroun variety that spreads along the two rivers on either side.

* They may talk of Alpheus and Aareth nsa,' murmured an idling sophomore, who had found his way thither during reci: tion hours,' but the Croton in passing over an arm of the sea at Spuyten-Duyvil, and bursting to sight again in this truncated pyramid, beats it hollow. By George, too, the bay yonder looks as blue as ever the ./Egean sea to Byron's eyes, gazing from the A cropolis! But the painted foliage on these crags —The Greeks must have dreamed of such a vegetable phenomenon in the midst of their grayish olive groves, or they never would have supplied the want of it in.their landscape by em broidering their marble temples with gay colours. Did you see that pike break, sir ?'

'I did not.'

'Zounds ! his silver fin flashed upon the black Acheron, like a restless soul that hoped to mount from the pool.' -■' The place seems suggestive of fancies to you! we observed in reply to the rattlepate. ' It is, indeed, for I have done up a good deal of anxious thinking within a circle of a few yards from where that fish broke just now.' *A singular place for meditation —the middle of the reservoir!'

' You look incredulous, sir; but it's a fact. A fellow can never tell, until he is tried, in what situation his most earnest meditations may be concentrated. lam boring you, though ?' 'Not at all. But you seem to be so familiar with the spot, I wish you could tell me why that ladder leading down to the water is lashed against the stone-work in yonder corner ?' 'That ladder,' said the young man. brightening at the question; ' why, the position, perhaps the very existence, of that ladder resulted from my meditations in the reservoir, at which yon smiled just now. Shall I tell you all about them ?' I 'Pray do.'

'Well, you have seen the notice for- j bidding any one to fish in the reservoir, j Now when I read that warning, the fpwjtjpf the thing struck me at once as inferring nothing more than that one should not sully the temperance potations Ot our citizens by steeping bait in it of any Kind; but you probably know the common way of taking -pike with a slip-noose of 2SB?*F*L IT 8 det«mined to have •touch at the fellows with this kind of

' I chose a moonlight night; and an hour before the edifice was closed to visitors I secreted myself within the walls, determined to pass the night on the top. All went as I could wish it. The night proved cloudy, but it was only a variable drift of broken clouds which obscured the moon. I had a walking-cane rod with me which would reach to the margin of the water, and several feet beyond, if neces sary. To this was attached the wire about fifteen inches in length.'

j ' I prowled along the parapet for a con siderable time, but not a single fish could I I see. Ihe clouds made a flickering light and shade, that wholly foiled my steadfast gaze. I was convinced that should they come up thicker, my whole nights adven ture would be thrown away, ' Why should I not descend the sloping wall and get nearer on a level with the fish, for thus alone can I hope to see one ?' The ques tion had hardly shaped itself in my mind before I had one leg over the iron railing. ' If you look around you will see now that there are some half-dozen weeds growing here and there, amid the fissures of solid masonry. In one of the fissures from whence these spring I planted a foot ancl began my descent. The reservoir was fuller than it is now, and a few strides would have carried me to the margin of the water Holding on to the cleft above, I felt round with the one foot to plant it below me.

'At that moment the flap of a pound pikfi made me look round, and the roots of tho weed upon which I partially de pended, gave way as I was in the act of turning. Sir. one's senses are sharpened in deadly peril; as I live now, I, distinctly heard the bells of Trinity chiming mid night, as I rose to the surface the next instant, immersed in the cold cauldron, where I must swim for my life Heaven only knows how long !

* I am a capital swimmer; and this naturally gave me a degree of self-posses sion. Falling as I had, lof course had pitched out some distance from the slop ing parapet. A few strokes brought me to the edge. I really was not yet certain but that I could clamber up the face of the wall anywhere. I hoped that I could. I felt certain at least there was some spot where I might get hold witli my hands, even if I did not ultimately ascend it.

'I tried the nearest spot. The inclina tion of the wall was so vertical that it did not even rest me to lean against it. I fit with my hands and with my feet. Surely, I thought, there must be some fissure like that in which that ill-omened weed had found a place for its root!

1 There was none. My fingers became sore in busying themselves with the harsh and inhospitable stones My feet slipped from the s<uooth and slimy masonry beneath the water; and several times my feet came in rude contact with the wall when my foothold gave way on the instant that I seemed to have found some diminu tive rocky cleat upon which I could stay myself. ' Sir. did you ever see a rht drowned in a half-filled hogshead—how he swims round and round, and after vainly trying the sides again and again with his p-iws, fixes his eyes upon tbe upper rim as if he would look himself out of his watery prison ? ' I thought of the miserable vermin, thought of him as I had often watched thus his dying agonies, wheo a cruel urchin of eight or ten. Boys are hor ribly cruel, sir ; boys, women, and savages. All childlike thinks are cruel—cruel from a want of thought and from perverse in genuity although by instinct each of these is so tender. You may not have observed it, but a sayage is as tender to its youug as a boy is to a favorite puppy, tbe same boy that will torture a kitten out of ex istence. I thought then, I say. of the rat drowning in a half-filled cask of water and lifting his gaze out of the vessel as he grew more and more desperate, and 1 thing myself on my back, and floating thus fixed my eyes upon the face of the moon.

' The moon is well enough in her way however you may look at her; but her appearance is, to say the least of it, pecu liar to a man floating on his back in tho centre nf a stone (ank with a dead wall of some fifteen or twenty feet rising squarely on every side of him !' )The young man smiled bitterly as he said this, and shud dered once or twice before he went on musingly ) 'The last time I had not'd the planet With any emotion she wa« on the wane, Mary was with me ; I had brought her out here one morning to look as the view from the top of the reservoir, ■"he said little of the scene, but as we talked of our old childish loves, I saw that its fresh features were incorporating themselves with tender memories of the past and T was content.

' There was a rich golden haze upon the landscape and as my own spirits rose amid the voluptuous atmosphere, she pointed to the waning planet, discernible like a faint gash in the welkin and won dered how long it would be before the leaves would fall, Strange girl! did she mean to rubuke my joyous mood, as if we had do right to be happy while nature withering in her pomp, and the sickly moon wasting in the blaze of noontide were there to remind us of' the gone for ever P' 'They will all renew themselves dear Mary,' said I, encouragingly, ' and there is one that will ever keep tryst alike with thee and nature through all seasons, if thou wilt but be true to one of us, and remain as now a child of nature.

'A tear sprang to her eye, and then searching her pocket for her card-case, she remembered an engagement to be present at Miss Lawson's opening of Fall bonnets at two o'clock,

' And yet dear, wild, wayward Mary; I thought of her now. You have probably outlived this sort of thing, sir ; but I look ing at the moon, as I floated there up turned to her yellow light, thought of tho loved being; whose tears I knew would flow when she heard of my singular fate at once so grotesque, yet melancholy to awfulness.

'And how often have we talked, too of tbat Carian shepherd who spent his damp nights upon the hills gazing as I do upon the lustrous planet! Who will revel with her amid those old superstitions ? Who from her own unleaended woods will evoketheiryet undetected haunting spirits? Who re"r with her in prying scrutiny into nature's laws and challenge the whispers of poetry from the voiceless throat of matter P Who laugh merrily over the stupid guess-work of pedants that never . mingled with the infinitude of nature I through love exhaustless and all-embrac

i! ing as we have ? Poor girl! she will be i companionless. 4 Alas ! companionless forever—save m . : the exciting stages of some brisk flirtation. ;' She will live hereafter by feeding other ! hearts with love's lore she had learned i from me, and, Pygmalion-like grow fond , of the images she had herself crowned with semblance of divinity, until they seem to breathe back the mystery the soul c*n truly catch from only one. ' How anxious she will be lest the coroner shall have discovered any of her notes in my pocket! . 'I felt chilly as this last reflection crossed my mind, partly at thought of the coroner partly, at the idea of Mary being unwillingly compelled to wear mourning for me in case of such a disclosure of our engagement. It is a provoking thingfor a girl of nineteen to have to go into mourning for a deceased lover, at the beginning of her second Winter in the metropolis. ' The water, though, with my motion less position, must have had something to do with my chilliness. I see, sir you think that I tell my story with levity: but indeed, indeed I should grow deli rous did I venture to hold steadily to tho awfulness of my feeling the greater part of that night. I think, indeed, I must have been most of the time hysterical with horror, for the vibrating emotions I have recapitulated did pass through my brain even as I have detailed them. ---■ But as I now became calm in thought, I summoned up again some resolution of action. ( ' ' I will begin at the corner,' said I, 'and swim around the whole enclosure. I'll swim slowly and again feel the edges of the tank with my feet. If die I must, let me perish at least from well directed though exhausting effort, not sink from mere bootless weariness in sustainingmy self till the morning shall bring relief.' ' The sides of the place seemed to grow higher as I now kept my watery course beneath them. It was not altogether a dead pull. I. had some variety of emotion in making my circuit. When I swam in the shadow it looked to me more cheerful in the moonlight, and when I swam in the moonlight I had the hope of making some discovery when I should again reach the shadow. I turned several times on my oack to rest just where those wavy hues would meet. The stars looked victoriously bright to me from the bottom of that well ; there was such a company of them ; they were so glad in their lustrous revelry, and they had such space to move in I was alone, sad to despair, in a strange element, prisoned and a solitary gazer upon their mocking chorus. And yet there was no thing else with which I could hold com munion !

' I turned upon my breast and struck out almost frantically once more. Tbe stars were forgotten ; the moon, the very world of which I as yet formed a part, my poor Mary herself, was forgotten. I thought only of the strong man there perishing ; of me in my lusty manhood, in the sharp vigor of my dawning prime, with faculties illimitable, with senses all alert, battling there with phj'sical ob stacles which men like rnyselfliad brought together for my undoing. The Eternal could never have willed this thing ! I could not and I would not perish thus. And I grew strong in insolence of self trust ; and I laughed aloud as I dashed the sluggish water from side to side. ' Then came an emotion of pity for my self —of wild, wild regret; of sorrow, O, infinite for a fate jo desolate, a doom so dreary, so heart-sickening! You may laugh at the contradiction if you will, sir ; but I felt that I could sacrifice my own life on the instant, to redeem another fellow-creature from such a place of horror, from an end so piteous. My soul and my vital spirit seemed in that desperate moment to be separating, while one in parting grieved over ths deplorable fate of the other.

' And then T prayed ! I prayed, why or wherefore I know not. It was not from fear, It could not have been in hope. The days of miracles are passed, and there was no natural law by whose providential interposition I, could be saved. I did not pray; it prayed of itself, my soul within me.

' Was the calmness that I now felt tor pidity ? the torpidity that precedes dis solution, to the strong swimmer who, sinking from exhaustion, must at last add a bubble to the wave as he suffocates beneath the element which now denied his mastery ? If it were so, how fortunate was it that my floating rod at that moment attracted my attention as it dashed through tbe water by me, I saw on the instant that a fish had entangled himself in the wire noose. The rod quivered, plunged, came again to the surface, and rippled tie water as it shot in arrowy flight from side to side of the tank. At last, driven toward the south-east corner of the reservoir, the small end seemed to have got stuck some where. The brazen butt, which every time the flash sounded wag thrown up to the moon, now sank by its own weight, showing that tbe other end must be fast. But the cornered fish, evident y anchored somewhere by that short wire, floundered several times to the surface before I thought of striking out to the spot.

' The water is low now, and tolerably clear. You may see the very ledge there, sir, in yonder corner, on which the small end of my rod rested when I secured tfyat pike with my hands. I did not take him Prom the slip-noose, however; but, stand ing upon the edge, handled the rod in a workmanlike manner, as I flung that pound pickerel over the iron railing upon the top of the parapet. The rod, as I have told you, barely reached from the railing to the water. It was a heavy, strong bass rod which I had borrowed in the ' S jirit of the Times' office ; and when I discovered that the fish at the end made a strong enough knot to prevent me from drawing my tackle away from the railing around which it twined itself as I threw, why, as you can at once see, I had but little difficulty in making my way up the face of the wall with such assistance. The ladder which attracted your notice is, as you see, lashed to .the iron railing in the identical spot where I thus made my escape; and, for fear of similar acci dents, they havel placed another one in the corresponding corner of the compart ment of the tank ever since my remarkable night's adventure in the reservoir.'

Hb Had Business.—A Macomb street woman stood at the gate the other evening as a boy cam© up and she angrily ex claimed :

The First Problem.

i THE SOLILOQUY OP A RATIONALISTIC CHICKEN, ADDRESSED TO HIS EGG SHELL.

Most strange ! Most queer; although most excellent a change! Shade? of the prison-house, ye disappear ! My fettered thoughts have won a wider range,

And, like my legs, are free ; No longer huddled up so pitiably ; Free now to pry and probe, and peep and peer,

And make these mysteries out. Shall a free-thinking chicken live in doubt ? For now in doubt undoubtedly lam : This problem's very heavy on my mind, And I'm not one to either shirk or sham : I won't be blinded, and I won't be blind.

Now, let me see : First, I would know how did I get in there 1 Then, where was I of yore ? Besides, why didn't I get out before ? Dear me! Here are three puzzles (out of plenty more) Enough to give me pip upon the brain! But let me think agaia. How do I know I ever was inside ? Now I reflect, it is, I do maintain, Less than my reafon, and beneath my pride, I To think that I could dwell !In such a paltry, inieerab.e cell As that old shell. Of course I couldn't! How could Jhave lain, Body, and beak, and feathers, legs and wings, And my deep heart's sublime imaginings, In there ? I meet the notion with profound disdain; It's quite incredible ; Bince I declare (And I'm a chicken you can't deceive) What I can't understand I won't believe. Where did I come irom, then ? Ah ! where, indeed ? This is a riddle monstrous hard to read. I bave it now ! Why, of course, All things moulded by some plastio force Out of some atoms somewhere up in space, Fortuitously concurrent, anyhow. There now! That's plain as is the beak upon my face. What's that I hear ? My mother cackling at me ! Just her way, So prejudiced and ignorant / say ; So far behind the wisdom of the day. What's old I can't revere. Hark at her.—"You're a silly chick, my dear, That's quite as plain, ulack, As is the pieco of sholl upon your back!" How bigoted—upon my back indeed; I don't believe it's there, For I can't see it; and Ido declare, For all her fond d.-ceivin', What I can't see I never will believe in !

Romance of a Portrait.

Paris, December 25th.—* * * I have heard lately the following melancholy and romantic little story relative to a roval lady, wbos-e personal charms and sweet and graceful manners have ren dered her as unconsciously dangerous to her masculine adherents as ever Mary Stuart was of yore. It appears that during the latter years of the empire the attention of the Kmpress, who ever has been distinguished as an intelligent and munificent patroness of art, was called to the works of a rising young painter —a Spaniard or an Italian by birth —who had just com pleted his studies and had achieved admission to the Salon. She was pleased with his pictures; purchased several of them, and gave him a commission for two or three others. Finally, at his earnest solicitation, she consented to sit to him for her portrait, which proved to be a striking | likeness and a most admirable work of art. .From that time forward the young painter haunted assiduously every public place where he could obtain a glimpse of his fair and royal | patroness. When she went to the theatre or the opera he invariably occupied an orchestra stall in front of the Imperial box, and when she drove out he sought to cross her path in order to obtain from her one of those graceful bows and one of those sweet, melancholy smiles which she always bestowed with such courtesy upon those who saluted her. At last came the war, and and the Kepublic, and park and theatre and opera-box knew that fair face no more. Deprived of even those passing glimpses of the Imperial lady, the young artist became morose, gloomy and misanthropical; he shut himself up in the solitude of his studio and employed himself chiefly in repro ducing the portrait of the Empress, a work which met with a ready sale among the friends of imperialism in Paris, from its intrinsic merits no less than from the fidelity of its likeness. The other day he was found lying dead in his studio with a pistol shot through the head, and wibh the discharged pistol still clutched in his lifeless hand.— Lucy Hooper, in Philadelphia JPress.

' John Henry, didn't I tell you to hurry back with that paregoric ? You've been gone half an hour !' ' Well, I couldn't help it.' replied the boy. ' There was a chap down there who was going to lick Billy Smith, and they swore, and dared each other, and spit on their hands, and I knew that dad would want to hear how it came out.'

How to prevent the hair from becoming gray. —Cut it off, do it up neatly in tissue paper, and pnt it away in a drawer. It will not become gray as long as you live.

I There is a lawyer so excessively honest ■ that he puts all his flower-pots out over f night, so determined is he that everything } shall have its dew.

' Has that gal got fits ?' asked an old farmer, who had paused to spe a young lady go through with her calisthenic ex ercises in the gardens. ' No,' replied the servant girl. * that's jimmynastics.' ' So,' says the farmer, in pitying tone, ' poor thing, how long's she had 'em P'

A Wisconsin editor's reason for prefer ring Mat Carpenter to all other men: * We like the way Carpenter has of wear ing his hair, and of letting his shirt boil out between his vest and his pantaloons, a feat not easily accomplished.

Ladies and Slang Phrases.

It is more than probable that to loose and careless men and to the British blondes we are indebted for th© long list of slang phrases which have crept into American conversation and writ ing. Some of these are much more forcible than elegant, and some of them have merit in the fact that they comprise much in a. little. They roll glibly off from the lips of many ladies with equal readiness. Sometimes they sound well enough, but see how a few of them look in print, and we recall by memory the best of them: ' What cloes Old probabilities say ?' 'Cheese it,' 'Tumble to a racket,' 'You know how it is yourself,' 'Bully boy with a glass eye,' 'Oh, yes, I've been there,' That's the worst I ever heard,' ' Put a head on him,' Is that your little game ?' 'You old duffer,' 'VI hat a cheek,' ' G-ive us a rest,' That's what's the matter,' ' be's no chicken/ He doesn't scare worth a cent,' Go for him,' George, I'll hit you with a feather,' Over the river, (ctu revoir) George,' 'That's what my wife said,' 'There's music in the air,' ' Big six,' ' He's got the stamps,' ' ed hot,' 'Go west, young man, go west,' ' Rip, slap, set him up again,' ' How is that for high ?' ' It's a put up job,' '.X erect/ 'He did his level best/ ' Loafing around the throne,' You're too fresh/ ' There's too many frills about him/ ' Keep a stiff upper lip/ 'He's naughty, but he's nice/ ' I smell a mice/ He's too high toned/ 'Go it, lemons/ ' Put a Mansard roof on him/ ' Don't put on any agony/ ' "Whip the coon around the stump/ Go it blind/ My gay and festive cuss,' ' I think he's perfectly charming/ ' Paddle your own canoe/ 'A, big JJthing on ice,' 'Two can play at that game/ < Like Muldoon, he is a solid man/ ' Willie, have you had your morning bounce.' ' We'll take a whack at it,' ■ Simmer down,' ' <L'n the fly/ ' Don't give it away/ ' I hat's all gammon,' 'Do you see anything green in my eye ?' 'Go it while you're young.' ' He'll laugh the other side of his mouth,' ' Have you seen the elephant ?' ' Cut his tail off behind his ears/ ' Draw it mild.' 'When the soup-house moves away/ 'Go way, I'm a bad man,' ' Put me in my little bed/ ' Oh, Keizer, don't you want to buy a dog ?' ' I should smile if 1 didn't/ 'How does tho land lay ?' '1 ou can't most always generally tell,' ' Why is this thus ?' 'We shake hands across the bloody chasm,' 'Dead to rights/ 'Bring him to his oats/ ' Give him away/ 'His little bill/ 'Hang it up/ ' Lay him out/ ' That's no way to treat a fellow.craftsman/ 'What are you giving mo —taffy?' In time they will cease to be current, but the new times and new ideas that are coming will develope new slang phrases quite as expressive. It is best for people, however, not to spend too much time in such inven tions. — National Republican.

Patches in the Wrong Place.

Don't Crowd.

One of Boston's best known merchants, noted for his shrewdness and penetration, had a test case presented a short time since and came off victorious. As it is an illustration of this millionaire's penetration in great business affairs we give the story here. It appears that the merchant want ed another gardener upon his country estate, near Boston, and an individual presented himself for that office. ' Under stand the business?' 'Yes. been in it for years.' Whom had he lived with last? The applicant mentioned a gentleman the merchant was well acquainted with, stat ed tha*^ he left for no fault, but that his employer was going to Europe, had sold his estace, and had no further use for him. ' What wages do you expect ?' ' Eighteen dollars a month.' This was astonishingly low for such a promising-looking, sober man. and the shrewd business man rubbed his chin thoughtfully and reflected that it was a bargain lot; but 'wasn't there sonif-thing wrong about it P' His habitual business caution iv this comparatively trifling negotiation did not forsake him. ' Call tomorrow at this time and I will have seen Mr. , your former employer, and give you an answer' The gardener turned and began to walk slowly away: as he did so he displayed two patches on the seat of his pantaloons beneath the line of his roundabout jacket. * Hallo ! here ! j come back here!' called the merchant. ' You needn't apply tomorrow ; I see I shan't want you.' The astonished appli cant stammered out something about his knowledge of gardening and eood charac ter, but was cut off by this practical observer. ' Don't want you, sir ; the patches on your breeches are on the ( wrong side. A gardener's breeches ought | to be patched at the knees and not on the j seat. You won't do for me.'

Don't crowd ; the world is large enough For you as well as me; The doors of all are open wide— The realm of thought is free, In all earth's places you are right To chase the best you can— Provided that you do not try To crowd some other man. Don't crowd the good from out your heart By fostering all thats bad, But give to every virtue room— The best that may be had ; To each day's record such a one That you may well be proud ; Give each his right—give eaoh his room, And never try to crowd. Charles Dickens.

A distinguished personage once re* marked to Talleyrand, 'in the.' upper ohamber, at least, are to be found men possessed of a conscience.' 'Conscience !' replied Talleyrand,' to be sure; I know many a peer who has got two.'

BY CHABLES FENNO HOFFMAN

By S. J. Stone, M.A,

SUPPLEMENT TO THE ATTC^LAND EVENING STAR.

Prin'ed and published by the promietnrs, O*"* M MoCul aqh Rkks, of 8t UeorgeVßay, andH'f (■ B«*tt, of Parnell, at their Gwwml StoMB «*Mf M Oi&ot, Wyndh»m.Btreet, totlw Ottr tf *«*•' S*iard»MUfl, I«T< "^



I rpo THE WORKING MEN op AUCKLAND. Fellow Workmen :— , We regret that circumstances compel us to make the following appeal to you, and at the same time to place before you a few concise facts bearing upon our mutual in terests. For a considerable time past you have been grossly misrepresented by a portion of the trading community of this city. Many of you are aware that the Early Closing Association have been constant in their en deavours to establish a uniform hour for closing the retail drapery and clothing estab ishments, namely, at 6 p.m. from Monday to Friday, leaving the hour for closing on Saturday an open question. The Association has been only partly successful, having, been met by the most determined opposition by a few tradesmen whose action in this matter we refrain from characterising in terms it so justly merits. They assert it is to supply your wants that they keep open till 9 or 10 o'clock at night. Now, this is the point upon which we wish to concentrate your particular and earnest attention. We are personally acquainted with many of you, and hare no hesitation in saying that we believe this assertion to be a base slander upon you as a body, and we ask you to join us in re moving it once, and for ever. We have yet to learn, that you, having secured the eight hour system to yourselves, are so lost to every right feeling between man and man, as to be, not only indifferent to the position and fate of your fellow workers, both male and female, but that you are the actual cause; that it is your in dividual action which justifies theße men in a determined effort to establish a late system of trading, which, if successful, would com pel the assistants to work double the number of hours allotted to yourselves. In Melbourne and Sydney the same opposition was experienced; but true to the great principle that had formed their bond of Union, the Trade Unions rallied tound the Association, and openly declared that they would not support the houses that kept open after six o'clock. What the Trade Unions did for them, we ask the work shops, the manufactories, the friendly societies, and. others to do for us. We shall in a few days meet the various trades, and the men engaged on all the con tracts in and about Auckland, and shall ask them to delegate one from each calling to act with us as a sub-committee. The opposition experienced has neces sitated a constant expenditure, the funds for which have been subscribed by the assis. tants in weekly payments—many of these contributions coming from young girls whose earnings are not more than twelve or fifteen shillings per week. Under such circumstances, we ask you if it is not absolutely incredible that you—the very bone and sinew of the country—should, have the credit of perpetuating such a state of things. If you support this late system you are false to yourseiTep—you are sapping the foundation of your own institutions ; you are tearing a strand from your bond of uniofc, and fostering a canker worm about the roots of the tree you have reared and guarded with such jealous care and beneath the shade of which you have enjoyed time for mental improvement, with social recreation, and numberless other advantages, the immediate offspring of a proper adjustment of time and labour. Trusting that you will afford us a hearty response, and cordial co-operation,— We are respectfully yours, The Committee oe the Early Closing Association. I I



HOT SPRINGS. TO THE SICK ANT) DEBILITATED. Follow Shakespeare's advice, "Throw Physio t the dogs," and visit the Waiwera Hot Springs T^° healing virtues of these famous springs border the miraculous, scores of persons afflicted whk Paralysis, Rheumatism, Eruptions, Contracted an* Stiff Joints, Gout, Lumbago, Skin Diseases So ' Heads, and varieties of painful diseases have lvw restored to perfect health through bathing in S" marvellous springs, and drinking the mineral wafeT' who gratefully bear testimony to the fact. The wat* ' has heen pronounced the most remarkable healiri water in the world, and effected most wondenfui TO THE TOURIST OR PLEASURE a SEEKER IN LUSTY HEALTH , the Waiwera Hot Springs will be a source of amain, ment and delight. The scenery in the neighbourhood; " is diversified and picturesque, and affords abundant material for the Botanist, Geologist, Painter P<wt * orEecluse. ' ff*> ...; THE FAMILY HOTEL is fitted with every convenience for comfort A» n supplied table is provided, and this, coupled *m. " excellent accommodation, attention, civility **% moderate charges, leave nothing the most fastidim,. } can desire. ""uioug . A Yacht is kept for the use of visitors Them f. fishing, shooting, and other pastimes for the s£m,» ■■"'> or convalescent. «*ong Steamers leave Auckland (which is only ii miiJC - distant) for the Hot Springs twice a week, and th*-! are two conveyances twice a week overland. * Wakefield-street, Auckland c- „ . , . , December 14, law '"■•'■': A Sir,—Having derived much benefit from bathfn. « m your Hot Springs, Waiwera, I think it isadtitS " that I owe to the public-especially BufferhS humanity—that my case should be made toowJ? 'c Before I went to the Springs I suffered for S I than a mouth the most excruciating pain from rhmi ' matic gout, had to be lifted in and out of bed in ' fac<". was unable to walk without the use of two sticks ' '■ It took me an hour to walk from Wakefield-street tr\ A the 'Lady Bowen.' After getting to the Springs I bathed twice a day and drank freely of the mineral waters, at least a pint each day, and after six days T felt quite well, iree from pain, and can walk as well " as ever I did It ia now eleven days since I left and ■ have had no return of pain. If this should induce : any person suffering as I was to try the hot baths T feel sure they will get cured, and if so serve thn object I have in writing to you.—l am, sir, your obedient servant, Thos. Weavtoo Robert Graham, Esq. " *,; ~ ■kit -n i. „ , Auckland, January 5,1875 Mr Robert Graham, ' ' '"', „si>V-F nderstanding you are the proprietor of th_ ' Hot Springs at Waiwera, I think it is o£y due to you « to give a short account of my successful expeK of the efficacy ot the Springs in the cure of BheS ' ' tism. I had bee? suffering from BheumatomS the year 69 contracted through cold and wet wSk : w? ?? West Coast, and from that time Zm left the Springs I had suffered periodically froS thl ' same. The second bath I took brought S ft! rheumatic pains I had ever experienced in ' parts of my body. At the enTof TtotSght f^m to free from all pains with the exception of the ankles ' (which was always the worst part affected), and vritb Ift the exception of my feet being very tender from so much hot bathing lam quite a new man; I have not the slightest pain of Rheumatism about me, not even in the ankles. To parties visiting the Spring I - should advise them not to feel akrmed oVaLi - pointed if they find themselves worse the first d»■ £ %ZL"r% me .to the generai opinion" -howtS • action of the waters. Also I would recommend the "' tanking at least two or three glasses of water both on entering and leaving the bath; also, sweatoVS the blankets for which accommodationis provided :V. in each bath; and to parties affected withTcute Rheumatism I think the more they uset thet£ _t ■ " more speedy will be the cure. I remain, sir, ■' Yours respectfully, C. H. WriXOUGHBT. Dear Sir - Auckland, 10th January, 1875. ® a fflL^ e'l ni e-reßts of £ ose whomay be similarly. , afflicted, and in recogmtion of the benefits I derived -' at your sanatormm, the Waiwera Hot Shrines T desire to record the efficacy of the baths and water ' in the cure of Dyspepsia, from which I had suffered many months. Thanks, however, to the virtue* iff ' the mineral waters, together with a free use of baths. I was relieved of the distressing symptoms, and have 9ince enjoyed the best of health. , . u""'° Yours truly, -d -U _l , John Bent. " Robert Graham, Esq. Robert Graham, Esq. ;, I Dear Sir,—Having suffered from rheumatism for some time past, on the recommendation of my ; medical adviser, Dr. Turnbull, of Christchurch, I visited your Hot Springs. After three weeks'bath- : mg and tanking the mineral water, I am restored to perfect health. In fact, I have not felt so well for years as I am at present. The trip altogether has ; been a most enjoyable one. I found the hotel com- • tortaple, excellent table, attendance good, civil and obliging, pleasant for the invalid seeking health, or i tne man of business requiring laxation. I know of no place in New Zealand where a person could pus a ; tew weeks more agreeably than at your Hot Springs. Yours faithfully,. Postmaster, Christchurch. THIRST PRIZE OVENS AND RANGES, m ** u_\ hh ■'.■.■ _x ;:! GREAT REDUCTION ! " HERBERT H. SMITH,; Has Reduced his ' ;,! FIR-iT-PRIZ* TMPROVEC- P '.TEXT POETiBLI I SMOKK-OONSCTMING OVKNB To 30s and upwards a"cording to size Over 1000 ..f these Ovens are in use, man} for upwardi ' ol^ five years all of which have given entire sattfa>j.> tion, and a-e acknowledged to be the best, ohea.ieit and most °.c nomical ov*n invented, a* th»jr-;-it require no setti -«r and but little use. H H. SMITH his obtained suceeisively FiriM Prii»s for th*1 p»st five yvars F" IRS l PRIZE Strong * oloniall fl v»nn renuc"'! 5 per cent Kr^m SOs'ujw^rdl ■■' FIRST- PRIZE VA'rought rOri Im^ proved Portable Cott»ge Range, from £6 Infl upwards. FIRST PRIZE Wrought Irofl"; Lemingtan Rsnge?, from t6 10« np*-ar«TB F'RST PRIZE Wrought Iron Im-" proved Cottage Steve, to bnrn wood or c*li.,-,. open or closed fire, from t's upwards LIRST PRIZE Wrought Iron Im^* proved Bhip Stoves, from efi Qs upwur is : FIRST PRIZE Wrought rdn;F\xtM places from 30- upw^rrts. FIRSr~PRTZE Portable Bpilery V' om £5 upwards ; ' ' ■ "■'_'' S" TOVE~I>IPI NO made and IS; 3 kinds of Repairing, and Blacksmithing, oA | Ironwork done at the laUCKLANDIRON WORKS, | DURWAM-BTRBST WEST, !■ Opposite Buckland's, and next to Hunter and KolM* f Sale Yards. , 1 • 'it.. 1 ... 1 . 1- — -^ 9 Q TANDARD FIRE AND MABINS j INSURANCE COMPANY M OF ' JS NEW ZEALAND. Agent for the Provinoe oip Atcklanb— ■: HENRY GILFILLAN, ; 7, QUEEN-STBEBT. April, 1875. 1 i>!