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ties belonging to true womanhood. We have bad Presidents whose domestic life was equally exemplary—men who were the best of sons, husbands and fathers. Daring their administration, the Lord Jesus Christ was the most welcome of all guests at the White House. Well is it for our dear country when parents can point their children to the Presidential family as an ideal home. The simple, unaffected love of James A. Garfield fur, his old mother, his wife and children, is one of those touches of nature which "makes the whole world akin." The first thing he did after taking the oath of office on the 4th of March last, before he received the congratulations of any oue of his many friends, was to turn around and kiss his venerable mother and his wife. Was it a wonder that such an act in such a presence should thrill the vast assembly and bring tears to many an eye? Whereever he goes, he must take the little gray-headed mother with him. When the terrible news of his assassination was first broken to her, she exclaimed: "How can any one be so cruel as to attempt to kill my baby?"
And that meek, trustful wife of the White House gives us much to think about. A plain farmer's daughter, with a sensible education, unspoiled by the thousand sillinesses which girls pick up in boardiDg-schools and among systems of education whic h cram the head and impoverish the heart, becomes the industrious wife of a thrifty young lawyer, and the queen of the White House. How meekly she bears her laurel?, and remains the unaffected Lucreiia Garfield! She is the nearest and dearest of mortals to the heart of the President. Hundreds of miles from home, she is seeking recovery from a lingering illness on the sea-shore. How long the separation seems to this man and wife. At length the day for her return dawns. The husband is coming to bring her home. She is counting the hours as they pass, and rejoices over his expected arrival. In the midst of the joyful anticipation, she is handed a telegram :— "I am hurt. Come to me." Have ever six words uttered more of the mortal heart's best affection than these I What now? Shall we not have a scene? Can the enfeebled invalid withstand such a
shock? Like a sensible, loving wife as she is, she at once starts for Washington with the greatest possible haste. Two great railroad corporations clear their" mads from New York to Washington. The trade of half a continent is stopped. Miles of trains are switched aside to clear the way for the swiftest locomotive they can command. But oue car is attached. In that car sits a pale and silent little woman, doubtless praying a great part of the way. Strong men along the road pause at their work, and stand with mute emotion, moist eyes and uncovered heads as the little train sweeps past them. Thousands of women—polished and plain—wipe their weeping eyes with cambric or aprons as they catch a glimpse of the swift train which bears a fellow-woman, a devoted wife, under the suspense of a great sorrow, to her hurt husband. Her present heart and soothing band he needs more than skill of great physicians. On speeds the train from New York to Washington, past Philadelphia, Baltimore and intervening stations, over more than three hundred miles; business pauses, and the nation seems to hold its breath, whilst this humble little wife is swiftly borne to the side of her suffering husband. Nea* Washington, an accident delays the flight, but soon the genius of invention overcomes the peril. Can the frail, suffering woman, after this jouruey, have nerve enough at once to pass through the excitement of such a meeting? When she enters the sick room, all others, save her husband, leave. Now both feel stronger and happier. This ride forms a fit subject for poets. Here are a few stanzas from the pen of one of them :—
'Clear the track to Washington!'
Flashed the order from Jvew York, Commerce, travel, all must wait;
Business, pleasure, play or work! 'Clear the track to Washington I
Fire the steam to lightning power; Engineer, your orders are:
Fifty miles an hour.
'Bring out " Long-legged Tom," whose wheels
Stride eight yards at every round .' Let them burn along the steels 1
Make that splendid engine bound! Like a fiery dragon's flight,
Let the train the road devour! Engineer, your orders are:
Fifty miles an hour!
Strong men, bare-browed, cheer the train,
Like a thunderbolt hurried past! Women's tears fall thick as rain
Shook from rose-trees by the blast. O Wedded Love I ne'er angel flew
From heaven to earth with richer dower 1 Angels 1 waft this true wife through,
Fifty miles an hour 1
The true wife comes I Love fights with Death t
The nation's prayer is heard I E'en Shy lock's Wall Street's " bulls and bears,"
With a human throb have stirred. And a million gold were rot too much
To make that brave wife's dower, Who rode si x hours to save her lord,
At fifty miles an hour I
The chastened yet hopeful sorrow with which this little wife watches at Fhe bed-side of her husband touches the hearts of millions in all lands. Every true wife would and ought to do this. But not all wives have her way and spirit of doing it. With uncomplaining patience and prayerful trust, she watches and waits " like the true wife of a true soldier." To place her above want, in case of her husband's death, kind-hearted people are raising the sum of $250,000 for her benefit. Even little children, unasked, offer their small gifts to this fund. Thus the treasurer of it received a note from a little girl of Philadelphia, named Birdie Harrison Containing an old coin, which she said was "for Mollie Garfield's mamma." Another little girl was missed by her mother, who, going in search of her, found her kneeling in the woodshed, praying for " Mrs. Gai field." No one, only her pious little heart, had told her to do this.
Meanwhile the sufferer endures his pain with trustful submission to the will of God. His flow of cheerful spirits, despite his pain, is truly wonderful. From their youth both were models of modest, sensible people. The first years of their married life, he taught and practiced law, whilst she had a number of music scholars. The earnings of both gave them a plain, simple support, but no more. They were cheerful and happy. And now, as through all their wedded life, without the least cant or mawkish sentiment, this loving couple demean themselves a* a Christian man and wife in a way most beautiful. The husband so manly, and the wife so wifely, without shame or sickly show—but, like
children, they are seemingly unconscious that their sorrow is sanctified to millions of the world's best people. There is so much occult Mormonism in modern society; so much social corruption in the domestic life of people in high places; so much scandal connected with the family life of many of our politicians and others, that such a scene of pure, unalloyed, old-fashioned affection and fidelity between man and wife is all the more conspicuous and impressive.
Whilst messages of sympathy are pouring in upon the President and his family from the crowned and uncrowned rulers of the earth, and from many other people, he is permitted to see but few of them. The little wife is so overpowered with the tenderest wishes and prayers of good people, that in her guileless simplicity she scarcely knows how suitably to express her feelings. She is reported as saying that, as for herself, her feelings had ever been equally kind to democrats and republicans. And now since the hearts of so many good people of bath parties had so warmly poured themselves into kind messages of sympathy, she felt more than ever that she loved all alike. And that if in her lifetime women should be allowed to vote, she would have to take a republican and a democratic ticket and drop both together into the ballot-box.
Some of these messages are beautiful, like the following from Gladstone, the great and good Premier of Great Britain; expressing admiration of the exalted worth of this White House family, and not simply eulogizing their official position :—
"london, July 21.—Dear Madame: You will, I am sure, excuse me, though a personal stranger, for addressing you by letter to convey to you the assurances of my own feelings and those of my countrymen on the occasion of the late horrible attempt to murder the President of the United States, in a form more palpable at least than that of messages conveyed by telegraph. These feelings have been feelings in the first instance of sympathy and afterwards of joy and thankfulness comparable and, I venture to say, only second to the strong emotions of the great nation of which he is the appointed head. Individually I have, let me beg you to believe, had my full share in the sentiments which have possessed the British nation. They have been prompted and quickened largely by what I vt nture to think is the evergrowing sense of harmony and mutual respect and affection between the jtwo countries, and of a relationship which from year to year becomes more and more a practical bond of union between us; but they have also drawn much of their strength from a cordial admiration of the simple heroism which has marked the personal conduct of the President, for we have not yet wholly lost the capacity of appreciating such an example of Christian faith and manly fortitude. This exemplary picture has been made complete by your own contribution to its noble and touching features, on which I only forbear to dwell because I am directly addressing you. I beg to have my respectful compliments and congratulations conveyed to the President, and to remain, dear madarae, with great esteem, your faithful servant,
Wm. E. Gladstone. Few characters stand in more glaring contrast than that of Garfield and Quiteau. The one, from a boy, a loving, true-hearted child, kind and obedient to his mother, not ashamed to walk barefooted, wear patched clothes, and work with his hands, until hands and face were bronzed like those of a half-breed Indian. A hard-working lad, determined whatever he did to do it well, whether it was in the fields of his mother's pioneer farm or in learning his school-lessons. He would rather live on dry bread than spend other people's money, and made it a point not to spend his money before he had earned it. He always practiced simple habits of living, and loved to mingle with and encourage plain, hard-working people. From a youth he labored well and prayed well; and now that he is President of the United States, he is the same humble toiler and plain Christian man as he was under the roof of his mother.
Ouiteau is of a different stock. Of French-Canadian descent, his parents may have neglected his religious training. He was from a boy conceited, vain, disobedient to his parents, and treated their wishes and words with contempt. He always tried to reap where he had not sown—cheating people out
of his boarding dues, and out of every thing else he could. A spirit of lying and deception runs through all his actions. To get character he joins churches and Christian associations: and uses his membership therewith to blind and swindle his victims. All through life he struggles to get money and place unjustly. Always hunting an office with an audacity and impudence which, until it could not be tolerated any longer, only provoked ridicule. He is a type of a large class of people who have an inordinate ambition and greed for office, with whom politics is a field for pecuniary speculation and peculation. What do many of these noisy politicians cara about principle? To them, that is the best party which will give them the richest spoils in the shortest time'. Guiteau must become distinguished. He aspires to places for which he is unfit, to money which is not his, to a character which he is too mean to acquire. He is the type of the lowest and meanest element in American politics; Garfield is the type of its noblest and purest outgrowth.
The Falls of Niagara.
BY THE EDITOK.
It was one o'clock in the morning as we stepped off the train in the Niagara depot- Outside the entrance stood a row of omnibusses. Their drivers seemed to be engaged in some pantomimic performance, each standing at the rear of his vehicle engaged in speechless gesticulations. Instead of the rude and boisterous gauntlet through which we must pass at many of the depots, not a word was heard here. They were speaking with the hands like a set of mutes. In the pale light of the moon they looked like the wierd ghosts of departed red men, who once were the sole owners of this region centuries ago. The cabmen of this place are proverbial for their audacious imposition. Whence these polite applicants for our patronage? The railroad authorities own the grounds around the depot. Seeing h <w the visitors to the Falls were annoyed by the boisterous rudeness of cabmen,
they enforced a rule requiring them to hold their tongues, and let the travelers select any omnibus they see fit, without molestation. What a relief it would be to the traveling public if certain other railroad authorities we know of would enforce a similar rule.
After a few hours sleep I awoke at early dawn. Two sounds praised the great Creator at my first waking—the cheery song of birds on the trees around my chamber window, and the mighty roar of the cataract a few hundred yards off.
To see this great natural wonder one needs a guide, either printed or human. I found mine in the person of a kind friend and Christian brother. Ooce a noble Sunday scholar of the First Church*, Reading, Pa., besought his fortune when a young man, in this part of New York. He has been living here for thirty-five years. Unspoiled by success, he enjoys his well earned leisure —the fruit of his honest induslry—in his quiet and beautiful home, scarcely a square from the tumbling billows of the cataract. He is an elder in a prominent church here, a man of kindly heart, and rich in good works. After a cordial greeting from himself and family, he addressed me in this wise:
"Will you and yours allow me to serve as your guide? Shun the cabmen. They will mar your pleasure by their dishonest and extortionate practices."
Thus it happened that I saw this great natural wonder with all its belonging*, without the annoyances usually attending such a visit. Leisurelv we strolled over the islands above the Falls. Goat island consists of 60 acres of wooded land, with a number of shaded walks and drives. Its lower end forms a perpendicular rock-wall, dividing the falls on the American, from that on the Canada side. The latter is called the Horse Shoe Falls, on account of a certain curve in the centre of it. The force of the water has, however, worn it into an acute angle. Aside of this are three small islands, connected by footbridges, called "The Three Sisters." And on the side facing the village is the small " Luna Island," so called from a singular spectrum of the light of the moon on the spray below the Falls as seen from here. Goat and Luna islands
form part of the breast of the Falls. At a railing along the lower edge yon stand between the two plunging bodies of water, and look straight down into the boiling pool below.
Op the American side it is 164 feet deep, and 150 on the Canadian side. Dense clouds of spray are continually rising up from the abyss. In the curve or angle of the Horse Shoe Falls every few seconds an explosion of spray occurs, like the smoke of some volcanoes in action, flinging banks of vapor heavenward. It is supposed that these explosions are caused by a certain compression of air in the base of the curve. The width of the river here is 4750 feet. Goat Island divides the Falls, and occupies about onefourth of this space, leaving the river on the American side 1100 feet wide, and that on the Canada side more than double this width. The American Falls form a bend around the upper end of the island, so that they seem to flow in at the side of the river below.
How one feels standing on the brink of the Falls on Goat Island! You are overpowered with a feeling of awe. Looking up the river as far as the eye can reach you see a vast sheet of tumbling waters, a succession of smaller cataracts, some roaring and tumbling over high ledges of rock. Here, as in the presence of the Jung Frau, Mont Blanc, and other high mountains, one is overpowered with a sense of the littleness of man, and the greatness of the Creator. Whatever others iriay think of it, ascribing it perhaps to cowardice or a want of nerve, I am free to confess that at such places I feel like folding my hands, and to think adoringly of God.
Our pilot mapped out an afternoon's stroll for us. He led us across the Suspension bridge into Canada. From this bridge, and from the Canada side, you have the best view from below, as they directly face the Falls. On Table Rock, at the northern edge of it, we stood pondering and wondering. Then down a steep carriage way we descended to the river's brink, a few hundred yards below the Falls. From here you have a view of the whole surface from top to base, and through the curling banks of spray you get dim glimpses of the Horse Shoe curve. At this point a boatman was in waiting to ferry us back to the American side. I survey the red-haired, honest-looking, brawny ferry-man, his joints and mighty limbs compactly fitted, a man of powerful build; his strong boat can be trusted as sea-worthy. I look up at the terrific plunge of waters high overhead 'and think of the reputed depth of the river here. One is reminded of the fabled ancient river Styx, and of Charon, the ferryman that rowed people across it into the world of spirits. Our genial guide urges us to get aboard, and a*: sures us that of all the fatal accidents around the Falls, none has ever occured in connection with this ferry. Certainly we shall make this voyage. Besides our ferryman we have Him in our hearts whose mighty hand safely guided the boat of the Galilean fishermen over the stormy tea. But what a view from mid river—up and down the deep cut! What if this great dam should break just nowl Right here the boatman breaks a bit of news to us.
"They have just found the corpse of a woman."
"About a half an hour ago. Right across from here."
"Did you see it?"
"Yes, sir. There was a gold ring on cne of the fingers, but scarcely any clothing left on the body, save the shoes."
I innocently try to entertain one at my side with this subject, and naturally receive the curt reply: "I would rather not converse on that subject just now." Certainly I should have known better than to enlarge on the matter to a lady to whom the crossing of the river here was perhaps the most daring feat of her life. With one brief exception there was but little unpleasant motion of the boat. The rivar is covered with circling eddies, here and there a rolling bank or whirlpool circle, over which the skilled boatman knows how to steer his craft. Still one finds a grateful relief as you step ashore. On both sides, persons, clothed in gum suits, go under the Falls, where the vast sheet of water shoots overhead. I thiuk I shall not try that just now.
We spend an evening with our friend and his family in Prospect Park, ex
tending along the side of the American Falls. From here you have a full view of both falls. After dark strong electric lights, with the aid of colored glass, bathed the wild, plunging stream in all the tints of the rainbow, producing effects of inimitable beauty and grandeur.
Not many years ago a certain Yankee, looking at the Falls of Niagara, said, " What a power to run mills!" The saying was reported in the papers at the time, and afforded much merriment to the people. Since then it has been discovered that after all the Yankee's idea was not as ridiculous as s >me then imagined. Not very far above the Falls a canal has been opened through which a body of water is led across the bend of land, and falls into the river below. This secures an immense waterpower, which already is running large mills. And doubtless many others will utilize it before long. Who discovered this secret? My informant says a plain, unassuming, dull-looking German from Buffalo, came here a few years ago; he bought and opened an old and longabandoned canal, built a large pulp mill to convince the public that his plan was feasible, and now, shrewd, far-3eeing business men are surprised and chagrined that the slow, thoughtful Teuton has stolen a march on them. It will be worth millions to him.
Certain localities around the Falls have become associated with daring feats and tragedies. The place on or near Goat Island from which the noted "Sam Patch" took his great leap, is pointed out. Different places are shown from which persons fell or leaped into the rapids. Years ago a man drove his carriage on to Table Rock, on the brink of the Canada Falls, in order to wasti his vehicle. Whilst engaged in this laudable work a mass of the rock was detached, carrying his horse and carriage along to the bottom. As he felt a strange giving away of the rock, he barely had time to seize his child and escape with his life. A reliable authority assures me that the horse came to land alive some distance down the stream, not much the worse for his fall.
The Niagara river is only 33 miles long. It connects lake Erie and lake