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tfe-SHBBUmmilin 4 fl jr. W A RHYME OF THE DISTRICT SCHOOL. 1 Read at the Third Annual Banquet of the Sons of Vermont in Chicago. Jan. 19,1680 by NORMAN C. PBRJUNS The email square school-house, witiuits elop ing Bhed. With clap-boards covered always painted red, Btood like Fame's temple that did overlook The Hill of Knowledgein the spelling-book. 'Twas Learning's cheap andever free abode, And public, for it stoodrightin the road. Its play-ground stretched with many a guide board sign. From Massachusetts up to Derby Line. Within, the teacher's throne stood atthe end Two rows of desks on each side did ascend, With seats in front for little victims,where Their feet swung useless, dangling in the air. A mighty stove down in the middle stood, And roared all daywith heaps of maple wood. There may have been a black-board and per uana There hung a set of Mitchell's Outline Maps. This was the school of fortyyears ago We don't remember it ourselves you know, Forwe are boys yet, and we do but seem Gray-headed patriarchs, walking in a dream. Our hair isfalse! and where the bald spots rise They only show how thin 1B the disguise] Once more I see that troop of little girls With shining hair, all innocent of curls, Imprisoned close in little silken nets, Barefooted, and with calico pantalets, All wending schoolward on the summery day Now stopping to piek berries by the way Now standing all a-row, with glances shy, To "make their manners to the passer-by! The school ma'am sits there as of old she did, Her watch ticks loudly, in her bosom hid, As to the little pupil at her knee, She points the letters out from A to Z, With that sharp penknife which she always had To cut off children'sears when theywere bad. Once more through open windows comes the tone Of murmuring beesthe harvest-bug's long drone The hammer's sound comes from the distant shop i* The swallows twitter irom the chimney-top, And noisy children read with many a nod, That "No man may put oft the law of God." What house could hold that crew of boister ous boys Whose sex and presence were made known by noise, As ofa winter morning they rushed in, With caps of fur and dinner-pail*of tin, With trouser-legs tied down Jvjth bits of twine. With rosy cheeks that evermore did Rhine With health's own luster with the melting tracks Of snowballs sticking still upon their backs, And stood, in coats that their own mothers wove, To thaw their achingfingersat the stove? There stands the youngster, with a quiver ing lip, Who was the "snapper," when they "snapped the whip," And whose short length end over end did go, And stuck head-foremost iu adrift of snow. Here stand the big boys, who for morning's Have taken a run a good half-mile away. And slid down hillthere was no "coasting" then And drew their sleds withpatience back again. Soon order eame each racked his little pate O'er Owe substractione on his tiny slate, And learned that maxim, dear to many men, 'When you are short you always borrow ten.' Some playful wight, perchance was doomed to sit Between the girls, as retribution fit For his great crime and BO he learned e'en then The truth that comes time to all young 'Tie morethan twice as hard for Adam's 6on To sit with two girls as to sit with one! Behold that spelling-class with eager, look With hand*beside themfingerin the book No looking sideways, and no looking back Heads up, and every toe upon the crack Ranged in loneline like soldiers as they stand, Ready to bow and "curchy," at command! The time has changed: boys still can make a bow, But Where's the girl can make a 'curchy' now? Now here to-night, before our school is done, Well read onoe more the Fable Number one "An old man found a rude boy in his tree, A-stealing apples from whichfact we see The scene is laidnot in Vermontno but Down In New Hampshire or Connecticut. The old man desired him to come down with what he'd got But the young sauce-box told him plainly he would not." Now every boy that we knew in our school Always eame down, and with his pockets full! "Oh, wont you""said the old man, "then I will fetch you down!" Who ever heard such language in a Vermont town* So he pulled up some tufts of grass and threw at him. Which made the youngster laugh, upon that limb. "Well, well," said the old man, 'if kind words I and grass wont do" Just see how wicked thisbad old man grew' "111 try whatvirtue now there is in stones And pelted him heartilymay be broke his bones Which soon made the young chap hasten down from the tree, And beg the old man's pardon.Now we see This story'smeant for children very small, And is nothing but a fable, after all, I The moral of this tale eacu schoolboy obvi. ous found "Always steal appleswhen the old man Vent reuudf The teacher boarded round I see him yet The matron in her gown of bombaoet, With two shell side combs looping up her hair, And extra cap-stringsfloatingin the air, Just greeting him within her open door, Withhomely words of welcome,o'er and o'er. 'Twas, "Yes, sir, valk right n, ear take a chair. Stomp off the snowit wont do any hurt, We've been expectin' you, but 1 declare You would'nt think we had, to see the dirt! Fact is, we butchered only t'other day We dont look quite sobad'sthis, manynights We're sort ^clustered np, as you might say, It takes so long to put the house to rights! Butsupper^ ready come, sir, sit right down We dont stand much on ceremony here/ Met help yourself, my husband's gone fc town, But long 'bout nine o'clock guess hell ap pear. Like baked pertatera? That's a hard one, though, Come have another that is better done, 1 guess them bfscuits are about all dough, But some look brownishtake that corner one' Nowtry a tittle sassage we don make Pretensionswe're plain folks just as we seem And is your tea agreeable9 won't you take More sugar, or another drop of cream9 Wal, this is washin' day in every room The children they have scattered all their duds I've had my hands full, with the oven-broom And chothes-pins and most everything in the suds! This Injun pud'n!waf, 'twas most too soon To take it outI aee it aint quite prime. I alius put 'em in a-Monday noon And let 'em stay till Tuesday dinner time, Jane, passthem nut cakes nowmy husband, !s 4%4^*#^^^t^tef Conceits that I make nutcakes 'hard to match Sometimes they're short and crispyou've no idee' I didn have luck, though, somehow, with this batch. These cookies have got awful hard and dry. The caraway seeds like little bits ofwood But mebbe you kin eat onenowdo try The children alwaysthink they'repropergood. Can you make room fiap-iaeks on vow plate? They've stood 6o long I guess they're rather tough This boy don't mind itseems as if he ate As though he never could git half enough. Children are master hungry at his age, Now dontyou think so?I declare, this pie Is drefiul hot! the punkin's best, FU wage Well cool the mince and have it by anTby. This sweet cake, now, it riz up nice and light, And then it fell. I'm sorry, for my man Sets great store by it when he comes atnight Now do make out a supper, if you can!" So speaking in apologetic strain This woman,placed before theteacher's eye, A supper that, repeatedonce again, Might tempt the very 6aints to gluttony. In time the sleigh bells' jingle, 6harp and clear, Came to the children's ever listening ear And quick they crowded round the frosty pane To watch their father coming home again. And then the youngest climbed upon a chair, To place the candle for a beacon there, His chores a!l done, the bargains of the day Told one by one, the boot jackhung away, His coat removed, but wearing still his hat, The farmer then sat down to have Me chat. "Wal, you're a pooty good marster,they say, And you be, I've no doubtI've no doubt But you'llhev tolook sharp or the big boys, seme day, Will perhaps put you output you out. We triedthat game once, sir, when I was a boy, As we 'membered long arterlong arter He gin us a put out we didn't enjoy, For we jest caught a Tartara Tartar! Oh, I had to travel to school a good ways. And twas up on a hillon a hul They 'peared to locate all on 'em, them days, As they would a windmilla windmilL They had pooty hard work with the snows and the sleets, To keep us from freezin'from freezin' There was consid'able coughin'upon the back seats, And a good deal ot sneezin'of sneezin'. 'Twas a log house, you know, with hewed logs for a floor, And the fire-place looked looked grimly grimly, and The cold air went in through the the door, And the warm air up chimlyup chimly. A good eddication I've thought, for my son, A good deal consarnin'consarnin', For I've made up my mind that, when said and done, There's nothin'like larnin'like larnin'. Now twouldnt be no favor to some boys 1 all's To 6end him to collegeto college, For theydon't never seem to get no sort of idee Of the vally of knowledgeof knowledge. The Book says you cant never make a fig grow Worth a cent on a thistlea thistle, And a pig's tail as all on us very well know, Dont make a good whistlegood whistle. You plant pink eyes and bilbows both in the same field. But you can't change their naterstheir naters The tops look alike, but youfindby the yield There's a difference in t&tersin taters. Now yon compare Vermont boys with what others you will, With Yankees YorklBtatersYork Statere, You'llfindthey aint small ones nor few in a hill, That's thedifference in tatersp-m tatersI" Another home appears upon the snow The lingering twilight shed its parting glow And gave that dreamy landscape with the hue Of earth and heaven, all blended, to the view, Till shade by shade It slowly crept away, Like some weird ghost of the departing day, And darkness wrapped the outer world* from sight And brought the stillness of the winter night. In the room when night advancing Set thefirelight gleam to dancing With the wild, fantastic shadows on the wall, And the husband's day's work ended Left him with his legs extended On the huge, old fashioned settle, oad and tall. There I see the mother sitting, As she gently takes her knitting Work from out the curious baskei that the Indians wove Sitting in her old position, On a patchwork, feather cushion, In her own low rocking-chair beside the stove. Then her nimble-handed daughter Started up and swiftly brought her Cherry light-stand from the corner where it stood by day- Spread the Imen cloth in order, With tied fringe around the border Brought the candles with the snuffers andthe tray. Like a nueer with hi6 riches, Counting one bv one the stitches, Bo she "widdened" and she narrowed" o'ar and o'er, While the dog, of sleepy habits, Lay and dreamed of chasing rabbits, And the kitten chased the ballupon the floor. So she sat there slowly rocking. As she knit the little stocking, Looking up with many a nod and tender smile At her children'6faces ruddy, As she saw them at their study, Softly humming some low ditty all the while And each note,perchance, was bringing To her, as she Bat there singing, Its own story of the shadowy lone aco Then a moment seemedto blend her Voice with memories yet more tender, And a lullaby came from her soft and low. Knitting still, and never speaking, Naught was heard except-the creaking Ofher chair's unceasing motion to and fro. Till her ball of yarn diminished, And the baby's sock was finished, With a Utile tip of whiteness at the toe. Andthen came her Puzzling o'er bis Vi_ TTnf ill nil Mj 11 iMiWIMIipf|'P||||! not try." And, a smile her face adorninev*' 'Twill seem easier in the morning Take good courageit will come out by and by"' jt'Vj*.*& .&*svs 0,that faith of lonng blindness* O, those words of loving kindness Oftheoneswho gave theirlivesforsuch as we!thy, In eur ears they sound forever, Like the echoes ending never, In the shell that brings its music from the sea' Like their spirit's fond caressing, Let theirnames falllike a blessing On our children as we bring themto thefont For something nobler than all others God created au our mothers God created all the mothers of Vermont! Rock in which petrified* leaves and grasses appear has been found near Aaetto, mr. ROSE FORRESTER'S ESCAPE. Jflh IS $$$$ "Every body envies Rose Forrester." The pale girl, in gold-colored silk, lift ed the broad lids irom her clear eyes for a moment, as the speaker's wordsreached her ear then she bent over the photo graphs upon her lap again. Every item of her person and dress spoke the patrician, yet there was noth ing of fashionable ennui in her air. She handled the pictures with an enthusiastic appreciation of their worth, so absorbed in their examination as to be totally unconscious of the tall, fair man who stood quite near, looking down upon her with an apparent suddenly-awakened in terest. "Belonging to such a nice family, an heiress and so beautiful!" The continued words of the speak er reached Howard Manley's ear, but ev idently Rose Forrester didnot hear them. She turned with a sparkling smile to her hostess, and was still +%lfcg to her of the photographs, when Mr. Clinton brought Howard Manley up for an intro duction. As she rose in the full light it revealed that she was young, scarcely twenty, yet tall of stature, and with a marked repose of manner. Her beauty was not conspicuousshe was too pale yet Manley saw how perfect ly clear cat was every feature, how clear the dark eye,how dark thecurling lashes. The ripe lips shut over little teeth as white as milk, and the contour of the face was a perfect oval. The girl's natural and spontaneous manner told that she gave the young man, at first, no unusual attention. little by little she observed himthe fair hair shadowing the white forehead, the dark blue, penetrating eyes, the un usual grace of figure, the faultless dress. Her manner was so cordial and friend ly, and unmistakably charming, that Manley racked his brains for the chance of a next meeting, but was obliged to abandon it when Miss Forrester wasjoin ed by her brother. She left the room, but instantly he thanked his good fortune at the finding of a ruby scarf pin, which he recognized as hers. It was"easy to decide the orna mln'ttoo valuable to be entrusted to a messenger. It was a presumption which he would manage with ease to call upon her and restore. Rose was not a belle. She had too much depth and passion of nature to ev er be a society woman but she had her admirers, and out of them she soon chose Manley. She could not tell why, but his looks, words, every act, had a charm for her, and the eloquent blood tinging her cheek at his approach fold him the story of his power. a He was f-P*oud manhe might well have beem#happy onebut he often bore an air ol noticeable weariness and depression. This, in answer to Rose's gentle inquiries, he attributed to ill Spring was opening, with its vivid sunshine, its balmy air, and Rose was very happy. It seemed to her that it was the pleasant infinences of the sea son which made her daily ways so light the tender colon, sights, and sounds sur rounding her daily walk with Manley in the park, which made them so enjoyable. Perhaps they helped to make her spir it strong so that she dared say to herself, "I love him!'' and say it without reserva tion or fear for she knew that it was but a little while since she had first met him, and of his past history and much of his present, she knew nothing. No, she feared nothing for herself. To love, and be surrounded by tender ness, was happiness enough tor her she asked for no more. Yet some instinct or trace of worldly wisdom made her with hold her confidence from her brother, who washer guardian he knew nothing of the intimacy. From the night she had first met Man ley at Mrs. Clinton's party, she never knew him intimately. He told her that he had no female rel ativesno home. He evidently had means at command, and procured for her, with an ingenuity that was almost genius, the rarest and most beautiful gifts. Her delighted re ception of them seemed a mutual joy which prevented any possible feeling of obligation on her side. In truth, full of the passionate impulses of youth, she was deaf, dumb, and blind for anything but the fullness of the present Her brother came into the musicroom, where she sat at the piano, dreamily one day. "Rose, will you give me your attention for a few minutes?" He held an open letter in his hand. He was twenty years older than herself, a world-wise, prudent man. "Dr. Wingrove proposes for your hand. You are aware-that it will be a very ad mirable match, are you not?" Rose had a strange, stunned feeling, yet she bowed faintly. From childhood she had been greatly under her brother's control. "I should like to write him favorably, Rose. Have you any objection*" "II" she found herself upon her feet, shivering in the May sunshine. "I would have a little time, Edwyn." "Certainly, if* you wish," though his brow slightly clouded. "The doctor will net probably look for an immediate an- swer." The next moment Rose had escaped from the room, and was locked alone in her own chamber. During the next two hours she hardly knew what she was doing. She found herself walking the floor and wringing her hands. At last she stopped short, with a sense of pride. "There is no reason, no reason in this world I dare not tell my brother why I will not marry Dr. Wingrove." Dr. Wingrove was the noblest and gen tlest of men, singularly handsome, weal highly connected and barely thirty years of age. He had known her since childhood, never made love to her, but now that the offer of marriage had come to her, she realized, somehow, that he al ways had loved her. Rose was conscious of a racking pain in her temples, at last. The chamber seemed stifling. Catching up her cloak and hat and tying a veil ef heavy black lace across her face, the went out in to the street. She soon walked herself weary, with* out abating'her painful sensation, and, returning.t the street on which her resi dence was situated, entered the public enclosure of trees and shrubbery which ornamented the square. A fountain bub bled in the centre the stone vases of flowers sent a sweet perfume upon the air. So close to,her home, she had no tim idity, and, sinking upon a circular seat surrounding a large tree, she gave her self up to her absorbing thoughts. It was soon dark yet she had not stirred. In her black dress shadow, she was quite unnoticed by two men who crossed the street from the opposite side and sat down behind her. She would then have risen and glided away quietly, but that movement was ar rested by Howard Manley's voice. "How soon?'' he asked. "Now" my dear brother. I'll stand the lisk no longer. I've passed false money enough for you to shut me up for the rest of my life, and I value my liber ty, singularly enough," sneeringly. "Well, well^ I am willing enough to go, Fred. Heavens knows I am as sick of the business as you can be. Coining isn't aH prosperity. In anew country 1 would feel like an other .man. But" "The heiress!" "I am sure of her. But I don't like to urge a speedy marriage. She has an old fox of a brother, who may be inconveni ently curious regarding my affairs. If we could wait till the autumn, now, I might enter some respectable business." "I tell you it won't do!" Both rose in their excitement and in voluntarily walked away. Plainly, underthe gaslight, Rose saw Howard Manley and his brother passinto the street. They were coiners. More dead than alive, she crept into the house. But Rose was not a weak girl. Before midnight she had placed Howard's gifts in a close package, and sealed them, with a note, briefly stating that -she had heard the conversation in the park. The next morning it was dis patched. As soon as her brother oroached the subject of Dr. Wingrove*s proposal, she asked to have the latter call upon her. He came, with countenance so high of purpose, with eye so full of truth, that she involuntarily contrasted Howard's cold, reticent face with it but she told Dr. Wingrove all the truth. "Perhaps it was wrong, but I loved himloved him purelyand mv heart is torn and bleeding. I am wild* with a secret pain which I must hide from every one. If I had never known him1 But I cannot imagine that. This terrible ex penence has changed me I am not the care-free, happy, trusting girl you knew. I cannot love you but pity mebe my friend! I must talk to some one, and, oh, there is no one in the world so good aa.you!" Was Dr. Wingrove piqued by this re ception of his proposal? No, he was too generous and tender for that. "Poor child?" he said, in a tene so soothing that, for the first time, Rose gave way to a relieving burst of passion ate weeping. "What shall 1 do? What do you think of me?" she asked at last. "We will wait, and I think that I love you," hean swered, quietly. So two kept the secret of Rose's sor row more easily than one, and though her heart still knew its pangs of gnef for a time, the summer brought change ot scene which* was helpful to a spirit really brave and innocent. Dr. Wingrove joined Bose and her brother at the seashore, to find bright ness in the young girl's eyes again, and to the latter it was sweet to call so kind and noble a man friend. Together they climbed the rocks, drank the free air, watched the sunsets and the sea Of old they had been congenial, and now they seemed more happily so. There is usually a sacredness about first love, Mid perhaps it is expected of me to record the death of my heroine ot a broken heart, but I must tell ttie truth In the autumn Rose married Dr. Win grove. She is one of the happiest wives in the world. The first love fell from her like a false blossom, while the second ripened' richest fruit. Incidents of Cape-Cod Life. A walk on the shore in the early morn ing brings you in company with the fish ermen launching their boats, and sailing over the bay to draw their nets, which often are filled with blue-fish or macker el. The water is alive with many a whitened sail, and in the morning sun light the sight is an extremely pretty one As the fishermen reach the shore the first question asked them is, "how many fish this morning?" But the great excitement is when a school of black-fish appear off the shore, Then the enthusiasm knows no bounds. The cry "Blackfish!" will star tle the whole village like the cry ot "Fire!'' although it will not awaken the same emotions. The alarm is sounded and re-echoed through the streets, men, women and children rushing over the hills to the bay in hot pursuit and there is a reason for this excitement, as there is "money in it." Every boat that can be obtained is filled with an eager and anx ious crew for every one who joins in the race gets his share in the profits no matter who he or she may be. The fish are dri ven in to the shore and killed for the blubber and the exellcnt quality of oil which is taxen from the jaw-bones and and used for oiling the works of watch es. A great deal of money is made in this way and oftentimes a single "share" wfll amount to fifty or seventy-five dol lars, while ten or fifteen dollars is almost always received. There are many amusing stories told about the appearance of black-fish, and they are not "yarns," either. On one occasion, when services were being held in the village church here, the min ister being engaged in his sermou, some one in the street cried out "Blackfish1" Many in the congregation heard it, and a rush was made for the door, when the minister cried out "Stop!" Some turn ed about, expecting to be reproved, but the minister in his excitement only said, "Now all take a fair start!" and joined the crowd himself, and when punning the fish shouted out "Hallelujah! Hall elujahI" He got his ''share," which, amounted'to twenty-five ddllars.* he had not heard the At another time one man, who had has taught me a lesson I shaiTnot soon fafled to put man appearance until ihe,|orgeV' ki)og her tenderly, be fish were driven in, claimed bis share, aslhurried from the hou. aiann as soon as,i k$i i H* *&h.tJ'*> ttiqa ff^Ci? u ***w M 4 it***** & the others. A town-meeting had to be called to settle the matter, and though it was a unanimous vote that his share was forfeited, yet he plead his case so elo quently that "half a share" was voted him. A TALE OP A PUMP. BY J. P. H. It has been observed by thase accus tomed to notice variations in human char acter,that some men do not indulge in peculiarities of behavior and speech un til after they have passed the middle age, and then only from their lack of the oc cupations to which they had previously been accustomed others, again, never plunge into the humorous until that peri od, and another class would as soon think of^committing burglary as giving way to a habit of censorious satire until their scalps are in the shining condition of the uncle Ned celebrated in song. As for the other sex, they in the decline of life exhibit fewer of the changes that ap proach eccentricity it isthe middle-aged and elderly gentlemen who take to ways that, in their early years, would have en tirely spoiled their prospects, or ii they had plenty of money, consigned them to a lunatic asylum. The hero of the following story was rapidly approaching sixty when he ac quired the reputation of being the "fun niest old gent" that lived out Finchley way, and how he developed into that no toriety will not take long nor be un pleasant in the telling. He was a retired tradesman, a bachelor from choice, for he had never given anv woman an opportunity of jilting him", and for forty years had been known in a business street of the Strand as one of the staidest of men. Having amassed a fortune, he retired to a small villa in the quiet end ot Finch ley, far out of the sight and hearing of all the cemeteries, with a younglady, the daughter of a deceased friend, for ward and companion, and a "churchwarden" as long as his walking stick for a soother in his hours of meditation. He was a thickset, short, rosy-cheeked, jolly looking party, bald as a philosopher who had early devoted his hair to the pursuit of the impossible, but as genial in manner as a good old parson in the green old age of placid self-contentment. It need scarcely be added that he loved good ale, and although he had never read or heard of Warton, he could with him exclaim: "My sober evening let the tankard bless, While the rich draughts, with oft-repeated whiffs, Tobacco mild improves." He was sitting in his pretty garden, his custom of a fine afternoon in the summer, as usual smoking, and this time listening, or pretending to listen to a young fellow,"who was talking volubly of the cares and anxieties of a life that had ost stretched itself into its twenty third year. "This is the age of mediocrity, uncle," said the young man with languid energy. "Genius is unappreciated. A fellow, to succeed in either art or literature, must creep if he tries to soar above the com mon level, worry and distraction keeps him downdown, uncle, and unless he grovels in the dust of the dullness of the common herd of authors and artists, he must starvestarve, uncle, for he cannot live on the wind of his own self-approval. The paintings you admired so much the society would not look at, but they could hang inferior work on the lineactually on the line, uncle What further he might have said was not said, for his uncle, like one inspired rose from his seat, and, with his pipe, waved bim in the direction ot a little door in the garden wall, at the same time crying out "Follow me" The old gentleman conducted his re lative into aback yard, apparently de voted to clothes drying and lumber, on one side of which, right under the blaz ing sun, was pump, rusty handled, and in the last stage of dilapidation. "Do you see that pump?" said the un cle. His nephew acknowledged that he did. "It strikes me forcibly," said the un cle, seating himself on an aged chair, "that the pump is a key to a mystery. The well has evidently been long unused. Who knows, now, what a valuable med icinal water it contains? It is said truth lies in a well. Many a fortune has been found in one. Oblige me, Fred, by putting offyour coat and pumping." Fred cheerfully complied with the re quest, for, having expectations from the owner of thepomp, he felt it would be folly to refuse to comply with any ot his reasonable commands. So Fred pumped until the perspira tion exuded from every pore of his body, and his arms ached as they had never ached at any athletic sport in which he had indulged, but never a drop of water came. His uncle looked on, smoking the while, and with all the gravity of an American Indian. At the end of about half an hour, Ned dropped the rusty handle in disgust, and exclaimed "The well is dry!" "And so am I," replied his uncle, fix ing on his exhausted nephew a pair of round, gooseberry eyes, from which all speculation seemed long ago to have van ished. Fred, however, seemed to read some meaning in their unwinking stare probably the monosyllable response as sisted him to an interpretation, for put ting on his coat, he left the yard without uttering a word. In the house he en countered the ward, Miss Helen Vere, a pretty and accomplished young lady of eighteen, who thought him the hand somest and cleverest young mai iri fti creation, and was quite prepared throw herself and fortune on his broiiii, manly bosom. Fred was quite aware of the state of her mind with regard to him, and fond ly reciprocated her affection but with all his failings as a genius in the thrall of a morbid depression of energy, he was honorable, and scorned the suggestion of marrying a girl for her money, even if he legally could have done so. "What is the matter?" inquired the young lady, peering into his heated and much discomposed visage. "Havle gnardy and you quarrelled?" "No, we have not quarrelled, but he hurried from the house Hie uncle observed his departure, Hii^^ Vil W and with something approaching a chuckle, said to himself: ~Jr "It will do him good. The lad wants rousing. There's prime stuff in him, but it lies idle on the shelf, as unsaleab le and jjseless to him as rank butter to a fair dealing tradesman." The immediate result of the pump in cident was that the villa at Finchly did not see Fred for some time, to the won der and not a little the anger ef Nelly, and her guardian being seized with a fit of humorous experiment, resolved that the ancient lifter of water from the depths of the earth, should be put to some profitable use. Being a guardian of the poor, he hated tramps and vagabonds, whom he regard ed as among the worst of impostors, and the pump suggested to him a ready means of testing their rascality. like most suburban places, Finchly was infested with tramps of the mendi cant class, consequently opportunities for putting the scheme into execution were soon furnished in abundance, and Mr. Hughes' bundle of experiences grew fast, but extremely monotonous in its un attractive bulk. His mode of proceeding whenever a beggara man o*f the sturdy class ef coursecame to solicit alms,was to have him conducted into the small back yard, where he thus addressed him: "Look you here, my man, I never give money in chanty, but if you like to try your strength on that pump for an hour, you shall have a shilling." All eagerly set to work at first, but when they found their labor attended with no result, the expression on their grimy visages* was comical. The ex treme wonder, temper, disgust, rage, shooting forth in turn or together, were a study in human nature by no means unprofitable. The most prevalent sentiment among the entire lot seemed to be that of indig nation at being made fun of, for howev er much the most depraved of men, as regard honest labor, may be averse to work aswork, they have a constitutional objection to being put to anything which tends to make them feel small and con temptible. Your lazy fellow and your rogue alike dread ridicule. And as to the peculiari ties ef the nationalities, Mr. Hughes had his humorous'curiosity liberally gratified. The English, one and all, denounced the pump as a swindle, the national objurga tion which for generations was the ter ror of France being invariably added. Many a huge fellow swore that he had rather took a turn on "the mill." The only Scotsman who tried his hand at the business, threw down the handle at the end of twenty minutes, and de clared it was "an awful waste of human energy." As for the Irish, who were le gion, and generally earned the shilling, they described the affair as 'mighty dhry,' and departed, wishing the "ould gint" in a warmer place than the one he occu pied. Not one infiftycame a second time, and at the end ol three months, Mr. HughesPump-handle Hughes as he got to be called in the neighborhoodfound his newly-created occupation gone, and the old pump once more stood idle in its rusty decrepitude, to the great relief of Nelly and the servants, for the boys of Finchley had begun to launch after them comments more pungent than polite. The noise of these proceedings spread, and as a matter of certainty, reached the ears of Fred's mother, who, resenting the infrequency of checks, did not visit at the villa as formerly, and was in thehab it of declaring that her brother had lost his senses, and ought to be looked after. "He is as sound as you, or I,"said her son "indeed in my opinion a good deal sounder than I am, or rather was, for there is method in his madness good, honest method, which was not the case with me a little while ago, for in my mad ness there was a sagacity of idleness." His mother, who had never soiled her fingers at the trade behind her father'8 counter, but had married a gentleman of "high attainments," who, having spent all her money he could lay his hands on, died, leaving her a widow in genteel pov erty, sighed, and in the shallows ot her feeble brain wondered what the world was coming to, when her only and idol ized son seemed to be forgetting that on his father's side, he came from an excel lent family. Fred had altered, and for so young a man wonderfully. That one turn at his uncle's pump had turned him, asit were, clean round in his moral organization. Aimless before, he had set himself reso lutely to look something tangible in the face. "I am not a genius," he resumed, "but surely with health and strength I can set to work at something honorable and profitable, and I will!" And he did. That "I will" of a firm textured brain can bring to its owner & power which no magician with his paltry wand ever called from the vasty deep of dark nothingness. Having a fair knowl edge of several languages, he applied for and obtained the situation of correspond ing clerk in a city firm, and after a few weeks' initiation, found that six hours a day employment in such an occupation, instead of doing him harm, did him a great deal of good. His uncle, well posted as to his pro ceedings, wrote him encouragingly, and at the end ot the first quarter of his pro bation, insisted on his visiting the villa as usual. "Nelly wishes it," and that was enough for Fred "but," added Mr. Hughes, "let us see what the other nine months will do," supplementing his re mark with a musty proverb which need not be repeated. The other nine months were evidently brimful of satisfaction to the uncle,forhe advanced Fred sufficient moneyto enable '.i become a junior partner in the _drm, and what delighted him more, gave his hearty consentto his marriage with pretty Nelly Vere, whose fortune, how ever, he insisted should be strictly set tled on herself. As for the pump, it still stands in the little back yard, the handle carefully locked to the side, and Fred, out ofgrat itude, has had the frame work renewed and gayly painted, for to him it will' al waysbe anythingbut an emblem of "dry- ness/' ,j^ AitEXANDKiNA, the daughter of poet Joukof&ky, whom the ^_ Grand Duke Alexis recently marriedand 'j waa forced to give np to another man by the Czar, is living in Switzerland wii pjcture of healthy ^oyiaoa.^ pm 4i1 SUSP %'p- the 7/ mvif ^k ^M SK-' 3