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N1TRI-WEEKLY EDITION- WINNSBORO, S. ., JULY 1, 1880.
'rtI ' ASTOR'S STORY.4
The past or's little daughter
Sits smiling in the sun,
IMeide her on tle old stone bench
The story-book just done,
And lurking in her wine-brown eyes
A story just begun,
For yonder, pruning the apple tres,
Behold the farmer's son.
Slowly adown the pathway
The pastor comes and goes,
And setiles with his long, lonu hand
The glasses on his nose.
Dore ever dry. brown branob before
So beautiful a rose ?
Al, he thinks his blossom only a bud,
Though he watches it as it blows.
Is it the story of Moses
In his rush-wrappod cradlo found,
Or of Joseph and his br'etIorn.
lie thinks as he glanoes round ?
"You have finished your volume. Amy.
Is It something~soriptural and soundol?"
And his little daughter lushes and starts, 8
And her book falls to the ground.
Go on with your walk, good pastor,
You do not yourself de ceive :
It has been a scriptural story
Since Adam first kissed Eve. 5
And never blush, little lassio.
The tae was written above, r
No other so speaks of Heaven t:
As the old, old story of love. I
The Hermit of Lone Cabin. 1
Away to the base of the beetling crags Y
and cliffs of the hoary Sic. ra8 stands a
lonely cabIn, where only ruin and desola- St
tion mark what inight have once been a r
pleasant if not a happy hoie.
Well do I remember the dark, tempestu- ti
ous night that a friend and myself passed I
beneath its roof but a few years since. a
While seated before a glowing fire, for it a
was late In autumn, he gave mc the follow- ti
Ing veritable history of the place:
NotwItfistanding that it was miles from ti
any habitation, several years before a sohi- of
tary individual had appeared in the vicin
ity, and out of the mnatorial that he pro
cured fron the neighboring forest built w
tills rude cabin. il
He was a stranger to all who met him,
and seeming to avoid rather than to seek I
acqualutanco-, lie soon became known as tI
"The Hermit of Lotne Cabin."
Three years passed, and tile unknown
still lived In his sce.usion, subsisting upon
the game that he readily procured with the
aid of his rile.
One (lay about this time, as the hermit
contrary to his usual habit, visited the bo
nearest settlement, twenty miles below, he tl
was net by a new-coner in the lplace, who f
greeted hi with the familiarity of an old 8
Appearing surprised, lie denied ever hav
mng seen the other, and would fain liavn th
left himt, but the would-be assointe seized W(
him by the collar, excla'ming:
"You can't deceive me, Loren Ciray. 1 th
knew you the mome I saw you, though t
live years have changed your looks great- C
ly. Don't you remember Frank, Chap
tm,an. I am he. Come, old boy, I want se
to show you to another old friend whom
you will be glad to see." s1
Still the hermit, confused and excited, tl
protested that his naie was not Loren w'
Gray, aud that lie had never imet the other. tu
"Twon't (o old chap; you can't deceive
ine by playing off in that way," was the l
reply lie received. "I known that you are
Loren Gray, and I have a Triend down to
the Eagle House who desires to see you on it
most important business. Come with me, k
and if lie don't recognize you, I will stand
the drinks for the crowd," for by this d
time quite a knot of spectators had collect- c(
ed around the spot, eager to know what was n
Yielding with great reluctance, the her- el
mit was half dragged by the impetuous a
stranger down to the public house, follow- dI
ed biy a throng ot lookers-on. ni
"I tell you it's a mistake,'' repeated the LI
victimi; "my name Is not Lor'en Gray. hi
By this time they hnd enitered the bmild- c
lng, and the stranger, turning quickly to Iih
a young man lying on a diry-goods box | a
near at hand, indolently smtoking his pipe, Ii
"hIere Al, I have found hIm." is
8printging to his feet in surprise, the i
one addlressed, who d11d not sent to be lb
more thau twent,y-cine or t wo years of age,
* ~but with a tall, athletIc form, turneid upon01C
the intruders. 11n
As hie cauight eight of tbe hiermit lie siaug-|hi
geredi back like one shot, and pressing his
hiaiid to his forehead, exclaimed :
"Loren Gray I'" b
"'Yes," criedI his firiend, triumphantly, e
"I found hint less than five nuitiltes ago;
but lie has the audiaclty to deny his iden- y
Unheeding the words, the younger man I1
faced the amazed hermit, aind as his pierc
Ing eyes met.the others, lie said hoarsely, t
'keiablinig with passion:
"hfave you lorgottein me, Loren Gray ?" 1'
"For mercy's sake, tell ine what ti.iis
means! I anm not Loren Gray, andl neither C
do J know you."
"Bali I You need not think to escapeO by
your lies. I have ntot hunted for you this
live years to be baflied now that I have
found youl. If you (10 not rememiber me,
have you forgotten my sister, whomn you
betrayed and muttrderedl ?"
"Not:. a word, (dog! 1 You can offer no
atonement for the wi'ongs that you have
done save in the sacrIice of your life. But ]
I wish to take no advantage, and1( I -chA~l
lenge you to meet me in mortal combat."
"No, no!l" cried the othet. "'You are a
stranger to me and 1 have no rtiarrel with
you. 1 muist decell to fight y'ou."
As the hermit spoke te words, widich in
the minds of the rough mtent around hun
marked hiim a coward, the room rang with
their cries of dlerislon.
The young stranger, too, his face nearly
colorless with rage, uittered a contemptituouis
cry as he (ealt the mant a smtart blow on the
"There; see if that will tnot awaken you.
I say that one of us muist dlie. Take your
- chice of weaponstand1( mett me at oce. I
ant impatient to htave'it over. I care bat
little If I fall, if I can know ere I (lie that
the utntimelv fate of my poor sister lhas
been avenged. Comte, Norman," addl(ress
hIg his companion, "you will be my see
(ond, while lie can select whom lie wyill. If
I fall, you know my request. Don't let
him escape. Well, .Loron Gray, dare you
meer meo like a mini or haveo you or.ly
:ourage enough to war upon defenseless
The hermit, fairly writhing under the
reatment lie had 'received, could only look
tpon him'in silence,
The excited crowd began to hoot him,
nd the confusion was becoming ominous
if danger to the trembling man, when the
Lvenger silenced thein with a move of his
Then. drawing a brace of heavy revolv
irs, he extended then both toward the
"Take one," lie said fiercely. "I see
,ol are not armed; but they are loaded
,like, and you have iothing to fear. from
Without a word the bewildered victim
icchanically took one of the proffered fire
'Mid thb applause of the crowd, the duel
it led the way to the door, and out into
lie open air.
Jostled and pushed by the excited spec
%tors, the hermit slowly followed.
Once outside a;id the young stranger's
econd began to measure off the ground for
As the preliminaries w*'ere arranged, the
telists took the positions assigned them.
The challenger emphatically waited the
low movement of his foe.
"I call upon you to witness," said the
.cluse of Lone Cabin, addressing thd spec
Ltors, "that this is no quarrel of mine.
lut, after this treatment I have received
'M this man, whom I postitively say I
ever saw before, I am driven to this. If
fall, please see that I have proper burial.
,s a last favor I beg that you will not in
ay way try to discover my identity. Will
ou promise that?"
Receiving the hearty assent of the by
anders, the man signified that lie was in
!adiness for action.
Trhere succeeded the ominous "one, two,
tree, fire," when the young stranger rap
ily discharged his ,weapon and with such
,curacy that his antagonist reated'forward
id fell to the earth without making a hos
Smiling grimly the slayer remained mo.
onless as thespectators rushed to the side
the fallen man.
"Is lie dead?" cried one.
"Dcad as a stone!" exclaimed a tall
eather-heaten mountaineer who was bend
g over the silent form.
"T'rhen my work is done, and the wrongs
y poor sister siffered are avenged I" said
c younger stranger as lie turned to join
Meanwhile some of the others began' to
like preparations for the burial of the un
While a couple were in act of raising the 1
>dy to bear it away, they were surprised
see the long, flowing beard worn by the
ikinown person fall to the ground, and a
cc as white and smooth as a maiden's
ddenly disclosed to their gaze.
A. glance told then that it was false, and
a the Irmift of Lone Cabin was a
In the height of the excitement following
o discovery the stranger duelist reached
a spot. and as lie haught sight of the fair
untenance lie cried:
"My God I it is my sister I." and fell son
To cut the story short, by the time the
eaker recovered his consciousness after
e fearful shock lie had received, the
atinded one began to show signs of re
It was then tound that though the shot
id barely escaped beintg fatal, it was not
Lely to prove so.
A long sickness followed, however, and
was mionths before the whole story was
"The Hermit of Lone Cabin" was in
-ed the sister of him who had nearly be
>ne her murderer. Years before she had
et and loved a inan by the name of War.
n Arnold, but on the dlay before that fix
I for their wvedding lie had disappeared,
id she, nearly broken-hearted, was a few
iys after abduhIcted and( borne away to the
ountain retreat of a band of road agenrs',
me leadier of wVhm was none1 other than
er false lover.
More grief-stricken than ever, she sucO
eded in escap)ing; but, somewhat crazed,
isteadl of returning to her friends, she hmad
)ught a life of lonleliness. Her brother
alph, who had beecn away at school for
iree years, learned of hecr misfortunes andl
ipplosedl death, and retuirned to his home
begin a search for the villain who hlad
een the cause of so mluchi suifering.
Warren Armnold's true name was Loron
ray, andm Ralph ever spoke of hhn by that
sae, though his sister hlad never kiiown
iml by it.
Accompanied by his friend, Norman
.n, lhe had sought far anld widIe for hmlim,
uit to make at last that well-nigh .fatal
rror 1i mistakinig the "hermit" for lisa foe.
As his sister had not seen hhin for eight
cars, and at a time there is most change
one.'s appearance she had not recognized
When she was able, they all returned to
iru homes a happy comlpany.
Later, Normnan Arlin becanme her hius
and, aind a now life dlawnled for lier.
The Lone Cabin still standis, a momilento
f the p)ast.
In personal appearance Mr. Gladstone i
n active, lithe, muscular nman, rather tall
ad of welh-proportioned frame. Ills face
nid thggure have that clear-cut contour
whiIch generally indicate several generations
if initelcetuah activity and personal leadet -
.hlp. Mr. Gladstone is the decendant of a
ong line of Scotti-hi lairdmen of smnall
vealthi and( limited possessions, b)ut aceus
omeod to stand first in their comimuinity, to
lnk and to lead. The face IS scholarly,
multivated, its outlines boldly dielinedi by
hat meagreness of mulscle which disti
;ulhes the intellectual athlete. There is
mot an ounce of sup jefluouis Ileash on it. TIheo
hin lips and well-cut miouthI and chin be
~oken firmness, det ermination and endur
11ee. Sevenlty summners have sat lightly
on Mr. Gladstone, but the years have
brought their blessings of rest, and his face
in general wears the reose5 .of strength and
experience-strongly lined with the record
(of troule and thought. A new fact,'how
ever, or an aggressive opinion, wskes the
whole man in tihe tire >f youth, and the eye
flashes with eager light, and tile body bends
quickly forward as if to grasp a fresh ac
qisithon. Like all strong Englishmen, Mr.
Gladstone is a man of large physical pow
er and( endurance, fond of out-door air and
'work, and thme ring of his, axe at- Hlaw
arden, so fatniliar to England, has echoed
even across the Athantio.
A Bunless Girl.
Henry Richter and his wife were married
in the old country about thirty years ago,
and in succession they lost four children,
each of whom came to the age of two or
three years and then died of something
which seemed like inanition. They faded
away, and the best medical talent in the
Grand Duchy-they are Badenese-.-could
assign no cause for the deaths. Richter
and his wife came to America and settled
in St. Louis, where they lost two more
children in the same way. Shortly before
th birth of the present girl, Richter met
th6 Baron von Micheloffeky, who was stop
ping in S. Louis at the time, and to him
he told the story of the blight which had
fallen upon his family. The Baron was a
member of a nuniber of mystical societies.
We believe he belonged to some lodge of
Itosicrucians, which the great Liebnitz
adorned; and touched by the tale that the
father ha(l told him, he cast the horoscope
of the child at the moment of its birth,
carefully noting the aspects of the planets
and making a chart of the future of the
baby which at the moment was crying in
its nurse's arms. Just what that horoscope
was has never been told to any one but
Richter and iis wife, and the result was
that they have never moved away from the
house in which they then lived and have
carefully kept the girl out of the sunlight
eve- since. Henry is a wealthy man and
can gratify every whim which an idle fancy
could perceive, but he has chosen to live
always in a mean neighborho.)d, surround
ed by people with whom he has not a
thought in 2onnon, all for the reason s.
preserving the daughter whom he idolize-f
A writer gained acc6ss to the lady's chamo
ber and had a pleasant chat with her. She
eviced a strong desire to get out of doors
and see a world of which she knew noth
mng. The writer thus describes the lady:
Margaretha was reclining in an easy chair
before the grate, in which a rather bright
fire was burning. The room was also
lighted by gas. and every detail was very
apparent. There were no windows in the
room, and the furniture *as of the most
costly character, but it may easily be im
agined the scribe had eyes for nothinig and
for nobody but the pale girl by the fireside.
She looked fully her age-nineteen-but
her face was blanched and white; not a
tinge of red could be made out in the
checks, although it was evident enough in
the rather full lips. Her eyes were blue
almost to blackness, and her hair, whidh
rolled off the cushioned back of the chair
and fell in masses on the floor, was black
as night. There was not a feature or a tint
to suggest German origin in her face or
lithe form, and she looked rather sweet and
amiable than pretty, although her features
were regular enough. She was attired in
a laced and frilled white wrap, gathered
about the waist by the strings of an old
fashioned sontag of white wool, the only
bit of color in her dress being a blue silk
kcrchief wrapped negligently about her
;hroat. On the whole she resembled noth
ng but a crayon picture brought to life.
A Boy and p Poe.
.Of course it is wrong to go fishing on the
3abbath day, and the clergyman of a Berk
ibire county church felt that it was so when
ic addressed his Sundgy School and earnest
y exhorted the boys to refrain from such a
rocceding. But there was one boy in the
Ichool who, instead of being led away from
;he evil by the pastor's address, merely got
he idea from it of going out that very after
loon, and when the reverend gentleman,
wvho, on six days in the week, was as ready
;o pull a trout from the water as the next
nan, was strolling .n the meadows later in
he day, lie was pained to come upon that
wicked small boy seated under sonic bushes
md angling in a 'deep hole in a brook. He
stopped and said to the confused and blush
ing youth: "My boy, I'm sorry to see that
you pay so ihttle regard to what I said this
mornmng.'' The boy had dropped his p)ole
at being addressed, and at that instant the
hinestraightened wvithi a yank that betokened
a big trout on the hook. Thue lad saw it,
but he dared not touch the pole until the
clergyman said: "You had better take your
pole and go home. Be quick, too, boy I"
T1hecn the youngster tried to obey, but he
was a very small boy, and the fish didn't
come out very easily, andl the way that
clergyman fretted and fumed for a minute
was a caution, and then lie said : "I-I
am afraid-if I leave you with the pole,
you'll use it again when I'm gone-go home
and P'll take it home for you," and he
seized the po'.e and the small boy skipped
away and in a miunte there was a splendid
three-pound trout in the clergyman's hands,
and then before lhe could hie the pole andi
wvrap the fish in his handkerchief to put it
in his pocket, along came one of the dea
cons, and the pastor had a terribly embar
rassing time explaining the matter, and had
to name seven different days that he expect
ed the deacon to dine with him before the
latter wouldi believe that the pastor found a
boy there with the pole and fish, but that
the youth ran off on the pastor's approach.
Beat the Thermometer.
When the toiling, presptring masses dis
covered that the thermomieters down town
marked plump 100 dlegrees in the shade, they
wip)ed off their chins and congratulated
each other on having lived to see such a
ho,ed. About the time that everybody
was happiest, along came a small boy
whoso face was as red as a beet and( whose
eyes shone like glass.'
"Wmhere's a doctor ?" lhe caliled out as lie
entered a crowd.
"Helre, boy-what's the matter ?"replied
one of the men as lhe reached out to detain
"Huili family freezin' to (death at the
house ?" lie explained. Dad is in the
dlownstairs bedroom, shakin' and chattermn'
and( callin' on me to bring him redl-hiot'tea
and put bricks to his feet. Mamn, she's up
stairs, with four quilts and a carpet over
lien, but I heard her shiver clear dlowin to
the corner. My sister she's got her feet in
tihe cook-stovo oven, and is writing an ode
to winter, and b)ruithor Bill1 he's lyin' in the
sun on the sidiewalk an' axin' everybody to'
hendi him some Kyann pepper to help start
"Is-that-so?'' slowly queried a coli
"Course it is I HIain't I down town after
a (lootor an' some soft coal ? I wish some
of you fellers would tell me if thle Prob.
report predicts a change to warmer
The thermometer still marked a plump
hundred, bnt as the crowd again turned to
the figures there seemed to be a goneness
somewhere-a sort of aching void which
firures couldn't. fill.
. Moloneyt Goats
A few days ago, a- boy sat in the dock of
the police coirt at San Francisco, weeplug
bitterly. He was charged by his father with
disturbing the peace and leading a disso
lute life. Ills name was Aloloney. Ills
father was a contractor who, at the expense
of the city, earned an honest political liv
ing. They took a newspaper, and the un
fortunate boy read an incendiary item to the
effect that Frank Buckland, the natuiallot,
had discovereoi that a goat was an exoellent
thing to keep in a stable along with horses,
as it would face fire and the horses would
follow it through flames. He thought it
over. He wanted to show his father what
a thoughtful and considerate boy he was.
Besides, lie wanted a goat. He went down
on Rincon Hill and found one. It was a
goat of Irish proclivities and ownership,
and of the male geiler, Would it face fire?
It would. It wasn't expensive to keep. It
had lived for a month on shingle-nails and
oyster cans and the .different. ropes with
,which it had been tethered. Would the man
sell him He would give this one away be
cause he liked the little boy's looks. And
the poor, unsuspecting little boy started for
Natoma street, down First, the goat leading
the boy. He felt pretty good for a goat.
Whenever a horse went by or a dog hove in
sight he would get up on his hind legs and
walk Spanish, while the dogs let out for
the lission, and the children on the front
piazzas had fits on an average of about eight
to the block. Finally he got an idea and
ricochetted uD Mission street injumips that
would have sprained the ankle of any goat
but him. The boy acted as rudder and
steered him to Natoma street. It was after
dark. There was hay in the stable visible
through the open door. The goat debated
the matter a while ani then went in. The
boy said nothing about the investment to
his kind and lovirg parents. Fortunately
'his father was down at the grocery store
and know nothing. H-e would come home
go full'ot politics that lie couldn't tell a goat
from a six-bit umbrella unless the goat had
time to explain. Ile hoped that his father
would not go to the stable. lie prayed that
lie wouldn't. He had faith and confidence
in his father, but he doubted that goat.
The $3 clock in his bedroom struck 11, and
lie knew by that that it was 12:45, and that
the old man would be along shortly. lie
heard him coming, heard the gate slain and
then, first trembling and then in anguish,
heard his father's footstcps' going towards
the stable. lie heal d the padlock rattle,
heard the door swing open, and then lie
heard a whizz, a spasmodic puff as if a
small balloon had bursted, and then a skiff
ling noise as the heels of his father's boots
slid along the planks and he fell backwards
in the mud, about eight feet and -three-quar
ters fsom the door. le raised the window
and looked weeping and silent upon the
scene. He knew what the goat could do,
and it was hard to hear his dear father gasp
like a gold-fish as lie tried to intlate hinself
again. Finally he forced down enough
wind for meagre conversational purposes.
He said : .... .- 'a show.
ed drtfoartoft 7 ",
Still no response except a faint clattor of
hoofs that told the listeminr son that the
conceaied thunderbolt was prancing arond
on his h4nd legs aching for another shot.
"Is that you, Moloney ? I'd shpake wid
you." The voice came from the bed-room
window where the night cap of the boy's
dear mother appeared surmounting her kind
face and the to4p of a broomstick.
"can't c'm up. Got somelln here (hic.)
Sumfi blowed up.''
"Whart is it "
"Don'no (hic.) Guessr roof fell in."
"Why don't yer go an' seet Air yegoin'
ter shlape there all night, ye (hrunken ould
freckle ranche ?"
Braced up by the conniumbial indorse
ment, Ilie father arose, as (lid also a large
portion of the loose soil in the yard alongt
with him. Triangulating with some difll
culty to t,he wind ward side of tIle door, lie
unmroofed himself and peered in. No ex
plosive agent was visible in the darkmiess,
and tile spavined mare deClivered a reassur
ing whinny. .Mr. Moloney had11 prize-foughlt
in his younger days, and it occurred to him
that it wouldi be strategic and defiant to shy
his hat at the amibuscade. Tlhe amnbuscaide
took in t,he shy but remained quiescent,
save for the motion necessary to masticate
having regained 11is wind and some cour
age, lie concluded to cnter. He p)laced hnim
self temp)tomgly In the doorwvay, facing ont
ward. No sign I lHe took a s.ep back
wardi, still withl safety. A third, and still
Moloney struck a match, and there stood
revealed a nmeek-looking billy-goat, largest,
size, copper-frontedi iand Sweet, of express
ion, who, as the last two inches of huat rim
disappeared downa hmis ais>phgus, pro~mnul
galted a gentle "baa I"
The kind ju 'ge noticedlthat time little boy
had been standing upi all the time he was in
the dock, though there' were plenty of
benches, andl understood vhy he wanted to
go to the Indlustrial School until his father
broke his arm iand his imothier caught t,he
paralysis. lie told him.to cheer up, how
ever, and lie would see alout lis case, and1(
the litt,le boy wiped lis nosie on) the sleeve
of lis coat anid went belot.
Few pecople need reninding for what
Hloniton, Enmglandi, is fanious, as they are
whirled through its 'ellgghtfuli valley,
which so strongly imnpreses the traveler
who here first m-akes acqiaintance with t,he
varied scenery of D)evan. Lace-milking,
however, is not confinid to lionilton, bt
extendsi over a large tingular disatriet of
Southern Devon, from hie little village of
Scaton at the mout,h ofthe Axe river along
the coast by Beer, Bramacombe, Salcombe,
Sidmenth, and Ottertai to Exmiouith, ii
eluing most of tile vijnges between Ilom-.
ton andi the sea, ami apcecalhly the towni
of Ottery St. Mary. 1. even reached to
Lyme Rtegis in Dorset; where, at the end(
of last century, lace s#s made as high mas
four or five guineas a1'ardl, which rivaill
Brussels in estiimatiot, ''a sl>lendhid lace
dress for the late lainented ( ueen Char
lotte was fabricated; at Lyme," says its
historian, "which gan great satisfaction at,
Court." Tile usual ty?e of Hlonit,on lace
consists of sprigs in id separately, like
Brussels lace, on a pilIM, andh then appli-*
gued, or sewn on to sliet ground. in the
blat, century this was $1)ain pillow-ground
made of the finest Antkerp thread,- which
in 1700 cost ?70 per und, though even
more was given for itj Eighteen shillings
a yard, scarce twvo I lies in width, was
paid for this ground. The ordinary way
of paying for veils of this fabric was (as
jewelers now weigh oteeigns against, gold
chains (by spreading llhlings over thiemi
Puss and the Sparrows.
The other day a number of gentlemel
were sitting In the detectives' room in th<
Dity Hall, Cleveland, Ohio, when an Eng
Jisl sparrow flow near the window, peope(
u and darted away aiain. Captain Holz
worth, who saw the little fellow, said tha
whenever he saw a sparrow flit it rominde(
iin of a little scone which occurred in bli
rard one cold day last winter. The spar
ows, it seems, ascertained the fact thal
,here was a knothole in the gable of hij
iouse, and took advantage of that know,
edge by taking possession of the hole and
t portion of his attic, where they passed tht
flnter as snug as bugs In a rug. The cap.
am's wife has a warm spot in her heart foi
nrds. So when the ground was coveret
mith snow, and the little fellows ran a risli
)f starving to death, Mrs. 11. would swpei
tway the snow and s'pread upon the ground
L fine repast -of crumbs. The sparrow
ion learned to depend upon her, and told
heir friends what a fine landlady they had.
n consequence hundreds of then congre.
patecd (aily about the Captain's house and
>artook of his charity. Close to the spot
vhero the birds were usually fed was a pile
>f bricks, and upon this pile the Captain's
hrished mouser used to station himself
or the purpose of watching for prey. As
oon as the birds would get comfortably
ettled about the crumbs the cat woul(
>ounce upon them and invariably get a
ender sparrow for dinner. Finally the
irds became accustomed to the cat's mode
f precedure and would be on the watch
vhenevcr they were feeding. They were
o alert that the cat would hardly Let realy
or a sjp*ing before they were up in the air
ud out of danger. One day they were
ating as usual, and tile cat as usual was
latching them. Like a bolt of lightning
he mouser jumped into their midst, but
licy were too quick for her, and escaped
uhurt. Miss Tabby. not discouraged,
iounted tile pile of bricks again and await
d their return. The sparrows, after flying
bout for some time, finally settled upon
le fence at the foot of the lot, where th -y
eld a long and interesting confab. Aftor
liattering iway for several minutes they
autiously returned to their crumbs and re
iimed their eating, keeping ill the while a
iarp lookout for the enemy. After the
at had become satisfied that they were too
mcli interested in satisfying their appetite
> think of her, she made another spring.
'he birds were up In an instant, and in
ead of flying away as usual they formed
icinselves into a hollow square and charged
pon the foe. Some got upon tile cat's
tek anid scratched and picked with all
icir might; others flow right intoJicr face,
hile the balance made it interesting in the
!ar. The cat wits so sur-prised at first that
to was unable to move. The birds be
Line more mind more infuriated and fought
IChL a savage battle *that they drove the
ie down the garden path on a full gallop
id under the barn. They returned to
teir feast and were left to themselves the
A lady-resident of the Faubourg St. Ger.
ain, Paris, is credited with- earning a
)od income by hatching red, black, and
:own ants for pheasant preservers. One
arisian gets his living by breeding mag
ts oit of the foul meats lie buys of the
tiMfoniers, and fattening them up in tin
)xes. Another breeds maggots for the
>eial behoof of nigtingales; andt a third
marchand d'asticots" boasts of selling be
veen thirty and forty millions of worms
rery season for piscatorial purposes. ie
wns a great pit at Montmartre, wherein
a keeps his store. Every day his scouts
ring him fresh stock, for which lie pays
tem fron five to ten pence per pound, ac
rling to quality; reselling them to ang
rs at just double those rates, and clearing
tcreby over three hundred pounds a year.
Io wonder lhe professes great fondness for
is "'children" as lhe calls thiem ; although,
ke other fond fathers, he is ready enough
>lpart with thiem when oppiortunity offers.
his curious vocation Is not unknown in
Ingland. Sonme twelve years ago, we are
,ld, Mr. WVells, a fishing-tackle maker of
ottinghiam, In order to ensure a constant
ipply of bait for his customers, started a
trm for tile rearing of lobwvorms, cock
purs, ring-tailed brandlings, and other
'orms In dlemanid among the deciples of
V'alton, who abound In the old lace town.
'o keel) his farm stocked, men and boys
o ont at night collecting worms In the
lacadows andc p)astures; a moist warm night
ielding from two to six thlousandi worms.
s s'oon as they are b)rought in they arc
lacedl in properly selected nmoss, fleld moss
>r choice, to scour until they become little
tore than skin--freshly caught worms be
ig too tendler for ihe anglers to handle;
'hile ''when a worm is p)roperly eduicatedl,
a is as tough as a bit of indlta rubber, and
shiaves as a worm should do when put
pon the hook.'' When tils condition is
.tainedl, the worms are packed ini mioss,
id put up in light canvass bags for the
larket. T1his worm merchant dloes not
itirely depend upon the industry of his
>lectors, but b)reedis large quantities him.
If In his oivn garden ; the component
irts of lia breeding-heap being a secret lie
>t unnaturally keeps to himself.
A Dh)lomatie Answeor.
The old man SmIth, of Richfld, is a
'If-suflicient sort of an old fellowv, and
'tIdes himself upon his rIding abilitier.
no day lhe esp)1ed his young hopeful lead -
g a colt to water rather gingerly, andl re
"WVhy on earth don't you ride that
"i'm 'fraid to; 'fraid he'll thlrow mc.''
"Bring that hoss here," snappecd the 0old
Tlhe colt was urged up to tihe fence, and
'acedi oni one side0 by the boy while the old
an climbed on to the rails and stocked
nmself 0n the colt's back. Thea lie was
t go, andi the old1 gentleman rodle proudhly
Yf. Paralyzed by lear the colt went slow
for about twenty rods without a demon
ration. Thelin like lightning his four legs
mchledt together, his Jack bowed like a
aduct arch andi th o"ld man thot up in
ec air,- turned seven separate and dlistinct
mersaults and lit on the small of his back
the middle of the road, andi with both
iS legs twisted around his neck. 11astcn
g to him the young hopeful amiouasly in
"Ild it hurt youi, pa ?"
The 01(1 man rose slowly, 8shook out tIhe
sots in his legs, brushed the dust from his
irs andl halr, end rubbing his bruised el
>we growled :
"Well, It didn't do me, a bit of good.
ont so home.."
and giving as many as covered the lace. At
present the sprigs are generally sown, as
they are completed by thn work-women,
on blue paper, and then united by another
hand, iller on the pillow by "cut-works"
or "purling." or else joined with the
needle by various stitches. The patterns
of these sprigs are in the first place pricked
with needles on a kind of shining brown
millboard known as "parchment paper,"
by women who often devote themselves
exclusively to this branch of the business.
Among the connonest sights of a flue sum
mer evening in East Devon are the lace
makers, each seated at her door, with their
lace-pilows (which resemble thick circular
pads) on their laps, and the small children
around them on their little stools, all busily
occupied in making these sprigs, whether
"turkef-tails," "blackberries," or "stars."
Similarly in winter the steady "click, click,
click," of their pins proceeds from every
cottage, Just as in a Nottinghamshire vil
lage 13 heard the incessant jar and rattle of
the stockingers' frames.
The picturesque village of Bccr, near the
chalk headland of the same name, so famous
of ok( for smugglers,, is now celebrated for I
Its exquisite lioniton lace. Here the
Queen's wedding-dress was made at a cost
of ?1,000. It is composed of Iloniton
sprigs connected ona pillow by a variety of
open-work stitches. rhe Princess Royal,
Princess Alice and Princess of Wales also
woio wedding-dresses of Honiton point I
made at Beer and the neighborhood. Capi
tal workmanship in this lace was shown at
the International Exhibition in 1862, but
the patterns were conventional and clumsy,
arabesques, iade lions and poor imitations
of nature. Hence may be traced in great
measure its 'decline in public estimation,
though its costliness must always militate
against its general use. In consequence of
this deficiency prizes were offered in con- t
nection w ith the Bath and West of Eng- t
land Society for natural work in Iloniton i
lace,, which produced such admirable speci
mens that the Queen ordered thei to be C
sent to Windsor Castle for her inspection.
From very tender years children are taught t
to make loniton lace in what are termed
lace schools. The little things collect in a c
dame's room, and under her tuition, fre- I
quently econded by a cane, are taught the 8
mysteries of the art. They are appren- 8
Liced to the trade in Devon at eight, nine, c
and ten years of age (but in Bucks and Beds
Dommonly at six years, often at four or
live), earning nothing in their first year,
ind sixpence per week in the second. s
Afterwards they are paid so much per V
sprig, the price varying with the demand,
value of cotton, etc., but being generally b
I id., 2d., or 3d. per sprig. "* can make t
rour turkeys' tails a (lay, and get I Id. for *
a girl of ten lately told us with par- ri
I:lmable pride. A child of five years o'd si
wvl earn a penny in four hours by making, c
fix "flies." One master in the trade is s
5aid to employ as many as 3,000 of these h
6vorkchildren. A clever adult hand will a
asily earn a shillimr a day at her lace-pil
iystem. Tite average earnings of a quick
iand may be put (town at three shillings or
;hree shiilings and sixpence a week. At
Valenciennes the workers used to toil in
.indergrotiid cellars fron 4 in the morn- g
ng till 8 at night, and scarcely earn ten
ence a day. The abuse coutiected with p
,he lace-chools were lately exposed by the g
'hildren's Employmente Commission. It 1
was found that the hours of work in them b
were gencialy excessive, and the atmos
)here extremely bad, owing to the crowded
itate of the small rooms in which the t
lhildren work. Discipline is rigidly cin
rorced, and in some schools, in order that. 0
Ahe face may be kept clean, the children sit 11
without shoes on brick or stone floors. b
rhese causes, coupled with the constrained t
position of the worker, who must bend 1
3ver the pillow which rests in her lap, lay 1
Lhe seeds of illness and frequently of con- tj
sumpnltion in after life. The morality p
amongst thme lacemnakers of D)evon, weh
c'an testify, from peisonal knowledge, is ij
large. They arc thin and sallow, inclined t
to that bold, false indepCjendence which is y
always engendered when women neglect
the donmestic virtues. Thme children are t
often defiant and disobedient to parents,
and, on the wvhole, the occupation of lace
making cannot be called one favorable to
lie w"as a r'eace omler.
In Presque Isle county, toward Macki
nac, is a beautiful lake-Hlight Grand lake n
-on whose shore stands a club house y
owned by suniry fish-loving citizens of j
Adrian, Michigan. TIhe country around is p~
pretty much as nature made it-roug-- f,
and the few backwoodsmen living there are a
much like thme country. One of them, Ii
iinedl Crawford, was lately elected Justice y
of the Peace. A wood-chopper made conm- hi
p)laint that a certain raftsman hiad beaten b
him, and asked for a warrant for thme of- u
fender's arrest. The Justice's entire stock al
of legal blanks consistedl of a summons and a
a subpo.na. After spending some time n
vainly in trying to make these papers fit e
lImo case, lie got mad, flung dIown his C
papers and addnressed the complainant thus: a
"See here, mister, this court Is bound to see p
justice done In this towvnship. You pay me n
two dollars and a half, costs of court, show
me the man, and tihe Court wvill lick the
Dvil out of him in two minutes." Comn
plamnant paidl the costs and pointed out the
man. The ''Court,'' with majesty on his S'
brow andl his sleeves rolled up, wvent fer l#
the offender, and in sixty seconds thrashed C
dimi to thme full content of both parties. i
r'ho Court then put on his coat and re
inarked that "lie was a peace oficer, and
wished it understood that this Court wvould b
preserve the peace, and any man who
hloughmt lie ceuld raise thmufder in that neck
>f woods would have to try'the case with n
he court personally.'' No other ease has
mince been triedl h)y' Squire Crawford.
Hto Felt at Tritlo Flat.
An Oregon woman threatened to ecut her la
tusbiad's nos5e off, and( lie overheard the aI
hireat, and in the night lie awoke and found b
ier tying his feet and hands. But he didn't v
pve himself away. lie dletermine'l to tI
utop her in the very act of committing the a<
3rime, and so felgnedi sleep until she had ii
got him securely tied, and( had got the h
knife all ready to do the deed, when ho ii
pened his eyes and cried: "Alh! hussy, q
I've caught.you in the very act !'" But she
dida't drop the knife or saem dismayed.
Bho asked him what he was going to do k
about it, andl then lhe discovered that he Ci
couldn't do anything, and as she whacked b
the nose off he didn't feel that heo'd boen so
blamqd smuatt, aufter all. -
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Act well at the moment and you have
performed a good action to all eternity.
Anger and jealously canl no more boar
to lose sight of their objects than love.
Work to-day, for you know not how
much you will be hindered to-morrow.
A noble heart, like the sun, show'eth
its greatest countenance at its lowest
A man may well bear his or9ss jpa
tiontly, whilst on the road to wear lus
h'ley who hre too poor to trade in the
world, may buy abundantly in God's
Modesty is to worth what shadow are
in a painting; it gives to it strength
Heaven's gates are wide enough to
admit every sinner inl the universe who
God's help seems long, because we are
short. A short walk seems long to
No man can ever hope to know much
who doesn't begin by knowing that he
We believe that God's power is with
out limit; why should we not believe
the same of his mercy ?
Domestic rule is founded upon truth
and love. If it has not -botit of these
it is nothing better than a despotism.
Good men have the fewest fears. lie
has but one who fear to do wrong. lie
has a thousand who has overcome that
There is in ('hristian(ty light enough
for those who sincerely wish to see it,
and darknesa enough to confound those
of an opposite disposition.
The vanity of loving fine clothes and
new fashions,,and valuelng ourselves
by them, is one of the most childish
pleees of folly that can be.
Ballads are the gipsy children of song
born under green iedgerows, in the
leafy lanes and by-paths of literature,
In the genial sumnier time.
Jests Is said to have marvelled only
twioc. Once at the faith of the cen
turioi., the other time at the unbelief*
of the peolle of his own city.
Feelings come and go like light troops
following tho victory of the present;
but principles, like troops of the line.
are undisturbed and stai,d fast.
It the Lord careth for thee, be thyself
at rest; for it lie care, why sliouldst
thou care too? Ills providence will
provide if thou sincerely trust it.
One quiet example of saintly living
has more power in any church or In any
community. than the loudest talker
there is about entire consecration.
Thte covetous man lives as if the
world were made altogether for him
and not lie for the world; to take in -
everything and part with nothing.
suflice that they are wholesome. It is
not required in physic that it should
please, but heal.
Every man has in his own lite folliea
enough, in his own mind trouble
enough, in his own fortunes evil
enough, without being curious about
the affairs of others.
The occupations of men are, unfor
tunately, for the most part, such that
they shut out all deep thought while
they.are going on, and yet make no en
nobling claim on the mind.
Death to a good man is but passing
through a dark entry, out of one little
dusty room In his Father's house into
another that is fair and large, lightsome
and glorious, and divinely entertain
Good servica is )rompt servie. It
ceases to be a favor when lhe, upon
whom the service is conferred, has lost
in patience and hope deferred what lie
mighmt have bestowed in love and grati
There is no mean work save that
which is sordIdly selfish ; there-is no
irreliglous work save that which is
morally wrong, while in every sphere
of life "the post of honor is the post of
The cultured man is free from preju
dices, which are the most diffleuit to
eradicate from t,he heart whose soil has
never been loosened or fertilized by
education; they grow there as fIrm as
weeds among rocks.
Love, when founded in the heart,
will show itself in a thousand unpre
meditated sailles of fondness; but
every cool, deliberate exhibition of' the
passion only arghes little understand
ing, or great insincerity.
What man in his right senses, thaut
has the wherewithal to Jive free, would
make himself a slave for superuuttles?
What dhoes tiiat man want that has
enough? Or what is he better for
abundance that c<rn never be satislied ?
When we are young we waste a great
dleal of time in imagining what we will
doe when wve grow older ; and when we
are old we waste an equal amount
of time in wondlering why we waited
so long before we begin to do anything.
You can traini thme eye to see all the
,brighmt places of your life, and so slip
over the hard ones with surprising
ca'se. You can also train the eye to
rest on the gloomy spots, rn utter for-.
gctf'ulness of all that is right and beau
tiful. Tihe former is the better educa
The mani who takes his place in this
world, whether to preach in a taber
ncle, sing in a colloseum, or build the
waste places, having a clear view of his
wvork a settled conviction of duty
who believes what he asks others to
believe, an'l lIycs' wh:tt lie teaches
w'ii liid an open door to success.
None can live well until they get
God Into theIr lives. The one thing
that makes men great is to realize that
G ,di has an internal plan, and to enter K
into It, gIve one's seff to it, trusting to .
ilimn the final issues. ills wvork is ti en
the object of life, and fah in film bc..
comes resistiers courage arid exhaust
There it a great deal of dlifference be..
tweens modesty and bashfulness. The
iatter is a terror of being app)roaeched
by .trangers, or confronted with an
unaccustomed fact or position, and I
proceeds from egotism. Modesty is
aever seif-assertivo. It dhoubts itself,
but is never afraid to expess its wil
iingness to attempt what is asked, and
w.hien we are successful, modesty ,pre
vents us from boasting or superollious