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ST. TANKAWY PARER.
(U FVIX7UTO DECEJMlBERi 21. 1878.
THE OLD MAID. AUXT.
She was an old maid? Why, of
course, Aunt Rebecca was an old
maid. She was my aunt, and she
was gro vn up when I was born; and
I was seventeen. I should say she
must have been thirty. Oh, no, she
wasn't agly; aho was quite le look
ing for her age, and she wasn't
croess but you knIy a girl don't
like to be followed all about by an
old maid naun wiio has forgotten
idl about her youth, and I thought
it very mean of, her--evert so meaa
We were living, at - the
just a little out of town, and he
tame down to the hotel for the
summer, and he had known mamma
_nd papa, and he called on us. Oh,
I ivenu't told you who he was. Col.
Morrison; and very handsome;
about h.veand-thirty; great, black
ryes, beautiful, waving black hair;
aucha brnad shoulders.
Men are young at five-and-thirty,
you kanS, and when he first .aw
sue he started sand colored bes.ti
XY ghamr e mamm a
said. I aways wouldt be alled
Decea. ' Why they gave me that old
i-lahiomed name, I can't think. I
would nt .have the whole of it put
"a ase. And his lace lighted up,
snd the colbr came and went, and
"We a i her after ray sister,'"
And I shall never fa g t how the
Clon lookedat :se. After that
he ofe ateate to eeaus, and I could
oet help knowingthat he had a mo
tire in 'coming.
SIt would.hav. been toodelightful;
hat Amit Rebecca spoiled it alL
If he wasted me to play for him,
there she w*vi the piano. If he
wanted -me twalk in the garden,
there she was too. Out boating
with him we had her. He was too
polite not to talk to her. I showed
bor as plainly as I could that I did
not long for her company, but she
was stupid, and I finally said to
her: .. .
'1aunt fiebehci, really there ae
times when two'm es better com
ianuytheb " f 'La
She -looked at me and blushed.'
Yes, she bluashed.
"Not when people think so much
(of each other as we do, Brica," she
- "Yes, even then," said I; "and
tme doesn't think so much of one1
who is a little in the way. It ist
tiresome; a man must havea chanoe
to speak, you know."
"''aG rme men san make chances,
if they choose," said she, "It's not!
for a woman to do it for him. Anud
ra.~I i'.-*# fupr. poi apn,
"Indeed," said I, and I was cross
at lds: all, daIs bt E eouldn't make
'er angry at me. She went on be
having in- Ls a ulitdeoas paunuer,
rand at last itr aa iupo n me that'
she was, after all, like the maiden
adutsin 4be booksi gnj had taken
it into her head that the Colonel was !
in lovefneidm a - a -
It was funny, but I eouldn't hitlp1
being iMaamn4, too, that my aunt
should make such a perfect stupid
of herself. I was a little sorry for
iher, too; so I made up my mind to
keep niut h $ her fiad onether
own mistake. She would be morti
fied, of course, but I could not help
SgHeigkýl 1h ! "ow 14omle the
C olo" C )w o isia what aalkerkand
how well he rowed and dnce`. I
was thinking of him one afternoon,
sitting on the piazza in the shade
of the wisteria vines, for it readly
was too warm to do anything, when
little black Linda came up the steps
with a note.
"Please, where is Miss Hunter,
Miss Becca?" said she. "I've been
looking evrhey re for her; caa't
find her nowhar; got a letter for her
from 41e officer gentleman."
"Colonel Morrison?" said L
"Yes, Miss," said she.
I looked at the ltte.
"Why do think it is for auntie,
Linda?" said I. "I am Miss Re
becca Hunter, too."
"Wall, de Colonel said Miss Hun
ter," said Linda, "and I always hear
you talked of as Miss Becen."
I ý"Not. 1 y4he". atleaen, I hope,"
said L "This is for me, I think.
"No, Mins," said Linda.
So I walked off to my room with
the letter in my hand. My heart
was beating faster than it ever did
before, and I was wondering what
the Colonel could h've written to
me. I turned my key before I
opened the envelope, and then1
calmed myself down and read this:
"DUEAREST GIRL-DJon't tense me
any more. I want to see you by
yourself, and you know I do. I am
down in the woods by the little rock
spring, and I want you to come to
me without company. You may
like a lerson immensely, and yet
not want her always. I shall wait
here until the sun goes down, un
less you rase beiur, for Imust say
somethlng to you. Yours, ever,
ISy something to me? Of coumie
he meant to make an offer. I ran
to the glass, settled my hair, tied on
my prettiest hat, took my parasol,
and tripped down stairs.
I stole past auntie's room like a
kitten, and then I was in the open
air, going, for the first time, to meet
him alone. Oh, it was delightful.
Every moment I feared to hear
auntie's step, but she did not follow.
When I reached the woods they
were so fresh fand green, and the
shadows lay so pretty across the
paths, making just the very back
ground for a romantic scene; and
down by the rock spring a tall fig
nre was standing. It was Colonel
Morrison, and he was watching the
path by which I came to meet him.
fehbursrie fory-ard eagerly, but,
ats we stood face to face, he paused,
looked at ine in the saddest way, I
and with something like annoyance
in his tone, said:
"I beg your pardon, Miss Becca.
Have you any message for me?"
"Message?" I repeated. "I re
crved your note."
"My note'" said he, then his face
flushed. lie had a way of blushing
i)eutifully. - "That. stupid Linda,"
he muttered. "So Linda gave tlat I
note to you, Miss Becca. It must
have pauszled yea ok.L u Lite.'
"Yes," I said, scarcely able to
speak. "I-I was surprised."
"I intended it for your aunt," he
said. "She wopld have ~ndearstucd
We knew each other when she was
of your age, and we quarrelled; but
we are friends again. I-I-you
are old enough to understand. And
you are very like her-as she was,
not as handsome as she is now, of
course; but that will come with ma
turity. You will be as elegant a
woman, I am sure. I think you
comprehend the note now, an , of
course, l ý ¢ aplogisae.
"Oh, I know very well that it was
I who was in the way," I said, fight
ing with my'tders, and wonderiug
whether he guessed all my foolish
dreams. I could not tell by his
"I'll go and give auntie the note,"
I said, and ran away.
Oh, how hot and angry I was as
I sped along. The old novel story
had been transposed; the girl had
been a fool, the woman was triumph
ant; and what had he said: "I was
not yet so handsome or so elegant
as aunt Rebe~ec." I could have
drowned myself in the brook for
But no one must know. There
was aunt Rebeeeca sitting on thej
porch. I tossed the letter into her,
"Excuse me for opening it," I
said. "It is the fault of those who
gave us the same horrid, old-fash
And she was handsomer than I
I saw that for the rast time--one a
man could love and admire; not the
unattractive old maid'I bad thought
her. I hated her for a moment,
aI.d then elh of a sadden hbe threw
her arms around my neck.
"Oh! Beca,"' she said, "you've
read it, I know; bat you can't us
derstoed--you. a too young, too
happy-what all these lonely years
of watching and waiting and re
membering have been to me. I
never have loved any one else. Oh!
Becea, don't be angry because he
wanted me algae awhile, jupt f4 yon I
said he did, when I hardly knew."
She did not guess what a fool I
had been. Perhaps be did not; and
t e we- & . at of -my hefau 41d
lorve Caq in ated.J, kiseker,
"Dear auntie," f`ind, "don't cr.
Go down to the spring and let him
say his say, and you say yours. All
Sis well that ends well."
And I tied y hbat on liei' end
and sent her away; and then up in
my room I fought it out all alone.
I did not care so much for
thtOColonel after all. My pride
was hurt worse tlan my heart, so I
They are married now, and I
won4er I could have ever, thought
of him as anything but my unnele.
He is ,qqit a rqid4I.-ngq&t person
beside my Tom. I am engaged to
him, and awfully fond of him.
The spider is wiser than the bee.
The former sucks poison from
everything; the latter honey. The
former isat mubbedi the latter is.
Academy of Desiga-A young
ladies' boarding school.
THI WATER Mlab.
Listen to the water mill, j;
All the livelong day-
How the clicking of the w6eel
Wears the hours away.
Languidly the ataman wind
Strs the greenwood leaves;
From the field the reapers sing,
Binding up the sheaves;
And a memory o'er my mini
As a spell is cast;
The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.
Take the lesson to yourself
Loving heart and true;
Golden years are fleeting by;
Youth is passing. too:
Strive to make the most of life
Lose no happy day.
Time will never bring you back
Chances swept away.
Leave no tender word unsaid
Love while love shall last
The mill will never grind
With the water that is past.
Work while yet thedaylight shines,
Man of thought and will;
Never does the streamlet glide
Useless by the milL
Wait not till to-morrow's sun
Beams upon yoalr way,
All that you can call your own
Lies in this to-day.
Power, intellect and health
May not always last
The mill can not grind
With the water that is past.
Daniel Webster once dined with
an old Boston merchant, and when
they came to the wine a dusty bot
tle was carefully decanted and pass
ed to the host. Taking the bottle
he ponred out Mr. Webster's glass
an handhanded it to him. Then pour
ing out another glass for himself, he
held it to the light and said:
"How do you like it, Mr. Web
"I think it a very fine specimen of
"Now, can you guess what it cost
me?" said the host.
"Surely not," said Mr. Webster,
"I only know that it is excellent."
"Well, now, I can tell yn, for I
made an estimate the other day.
Whet I add the interest to the first
price, I find that it cost me just the
mtun of $1 20 per glass."
"Good gracions! you don't say
so," said Mr. Webster; and then
draining his glass, he presented it
agai,u with the renmurk:
"Fill it up again as quick as you
cnn, for I want to stop the con
All the performances of human
art at which we look with praise or
wonder, are instances of the resist
less force of perseverance; it is by
this that the quarry becomes ai
pyramid, and that distant countries
are united with canals and railroads.
If a man were to compare a single
stroke of a pickaxe or one impwes
sion of a spade with the general de
sign and final result, he would be
overwhelmed by the sense of their
disproportion. Yet these petty
operations, incessantly continued,
in time surmount the greatest diffi
culties, and mountains are levelled
and oceans bounded by the slender
force of human beings.
A country girreoming from the
field, was told by her cousin she
"looked as sweet as a daisy kissed
by the dew." "Well, it wasn't any
feller by that .name, but it whs
Steve Jones that kissed me, and I
told him that every ope in town
would find it out!"
The Germans are said to be op
posed to cremation. It takes away
their last beer.
THE DEVM8 -Sg
In the "Agricultural" dat t
of the PikaruMe we and the
ing interesting story eo om .
'otatoes were first ioatkd at :
Moscow by a Mr. Itowlad, eighty
or ninety years ag o. hAC t
people would neithme .'ct
toneuh them, saying they :.. j
devil's fruit, given to him hi
complaining to God that-)is tmd Io
fruit, when he was told to m.dp in
the earth for some, whid ch d)d,
and found potatoes. A eiam ,
Berwiekshire legend, wd ..itg -.
ever, is palpably anach1wes at
tributes the introductiuom :j pq
toes into bcotland to tit,. a ..
wizard of the Nort., is, s~ am:
Scowt. The wizard sad .tllBdwil,:
being in partnership. toolk imnl.t.
the farm on the M .arbt m. !
called WhitehouPaL The. mii
was to manage the farm, *tk.ediL
managed the capital. The goodi.e,
was to be divided as fll.s, ,,TL
first year Sir Michael was %6 Le.0
all that grew above ground, and his
partner all that gr' w bdei j,.e
second year the shares wemr lt,"
the opposite way. His
Majesty, as is usual in
was fairly over-reached in
gain, for the wizard ncay l
ed all the hind in the fost rar
wheat, and planted it wit'pAi
the second, so that the devil'
nothing for his share bit
at abble and potato tops. `And w j
courgitng rotation Sir MIieli
tinued until he had not unli.`
oared his partner, but etha4#etti
soil In spite of this legeS .Si
ever, we must continue to Pi.e
credit to Sir Walter IRaleigh fa
ing been the introducer of . s
into that country. The
who tried them, we are t 'fl
into the very natural mistake' d. "
ing the apples and disregrdig. ' a
To make a eheap wath for IttCs
roofs of buihlingn, -take a ,, t
quantity of good stone 'iimi
slack it evrefully in a bo or i
~bed, to prevent the escape ot'mi
and after slacking, pass it thLro a
sieve. To every six quxrtea 'tlif
lime add one qurt of rmo ijl
one gallon of water. The
should be boiled antid
To every five gallons of thi~ ;
by slow degrees tiaee-fomurU '~f a
pound of potash, and fomr oqp of
fine sand. Coloring matter may be
added. Apply it with as eoumsao
paint brush. A writer, in magsing
of this wash, observes: "It lboLk
better than paint, and is as durabh
as slate. It will stop aIwmýa i
the roof, prevent .ane. froe
ing over and rotting the wroadl a.4
render the roof incombustible bhm
sparks fallingonI. Whemim#fW
to brick work, it tenders the bm
utterly impervious tb rain aetio
and endures a longer time th.lI hy
paint I ever used. The esisasei't
mere trifle, in fact, sealesly -.Lbl
ing mention." w' 3'
Old "brass candlestihe are.-ppW
fashionable wedding ~pasqs 4
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