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TRI-WEEKLY. EDITION.' WINNSBORO, S. C., AUGUST 23, 1881.ESALSFD18.
THE F'ARMER'S SEVENTY YEAUS. t
Al, there he is, lad at the plough;
lie beats the boys for work,
And whatsoe'er the task might be
None ever saw film shirk. r
And lie can laugh, too, till his eyes j
Run o'er with mirthful tears, t
And sing full many an old-time song
In spite of seventy years.
"Good morning, friends I 'tis twelve o'clock;
Time for a half-hour's rest,"
And farmer John took out his lunch f
And ate it with a zest.
"A harder task it is," he said,
"Tlian following up these steers
Or unending fences, far, for ne t
'ro feel my seventy years.
"You ask me why I feel so young, t
]'in sure, friends, I can't tell,
But think it is mny good wife's fault
Who's kept me up so well;
For women such as shte are scarce
In this poor vale of tears;
She's given ie love, and hope, fid strength
For more than forty years.
"And then my boys have all done well,
As far as they have gone, '
And that thing warms an old man's bloodl, t
Ani helps hiin up and on,
My girls have never caused a pang,
Or raised up anxious fears; -
Then wonder not that I feel young
And halo at seventy years.
Why dont' my good boys do my work
And let me sit and rest7
Ali I fpends, that wouldn't do for ine :
I lik'd ny own way best.
They have their duty ; I have niine,
Anl, till the end( appears,
I mean Io snel the soil, my friends,"
Said the inan of seventy years. e
ONLY A FEW WORDS.
Mr. Jaies Winkloinan shut the door e
with at bang as he left the house, and v
moved down the street in the direction n
of his office, with a quick and firm step, t:
and the air of a man slightly disturbed a
"Things are getting better fast,"said a
he, with a touch of irony in his voice, as 'j
he ahnost flung himself into his leather 1
cushioned chair. "It's rather hard when 14
a iman has to pick his words in hii own b1
liouso - as carefully as if he were picking ]
diaionds, and tread as softly as if he a
were stepping on eggs. I don't like it. 1
Mary gets weaker and more foolish o
every day, and puts a breadth of mean- c
ing on my words that I never intended h
them to have. I've not been used to this a
coming over of sentences and picking h1
out of all doubtful expressions ere ven
tiring to speak, and I'm too old to be- a
gill now. Mary took me for what I am, h
and she must make the host of her bar
gain. I'm past the age for learning new d
Wtth these and many other justifying n
seitenices, did Mr. Winklenan seek to
obtain a feeling of self-approval. But., M
for all this, lie could not shut out -the e
image of a tearful fAce, nor get rid of an
annoying conviction that'hio had acted ,
thoughtlessly, to say the least 'of it, in
speaking tohis wife as lie had done. k
But what was all this trouble about? i
Clouds were in the sky that bent over
the home of Mr. Winkleman, and it is. j
plain that Mr. Winkleman himself 'had b
his own share in the work of producing i
these clouds. 'Only a few unguarded C
words had been spoken. Only -wordu I
And was that all?
Words are little things,but they some
times strike hard. - We wield theni so a
easily that we are apt to forget their
hidden power. Fitlg spoken, they fall
like the sunshine, the dew and the for-~
tilizing.i'ain; but when unfitly, like tho'
frost, the hail and th-e desolating temp
eat. Some men speak as they feel or
think, without calculating the force ofa
what they say;and then see~m very luch
surprised if any 01nd is hurt or offended.
To this class belonged Mr. Winkieman.
His wife was a loving, sincere wonmn, of
quick feelings. Words to her wvere in
deed( realitics. .They nievor fell upon)1 her
ear as idle sounds. Howv often was her
poor heart bruised with thlem !
On this particlar miornling, Mrs. I
Winkleman, whose hlealth was feeble, y
found herself, found, herself in a weak, ti
nervous state. It was only by an effort
that sheO could( rise ab~ove tihe mlorbid ir- '
ritability thaut afflicted her. Earnestly a
did shle strive to - repress tile disturbea
b~eatinlgs of her heart, but she strove in
vain. And it seemed to her as it often .
does inl such1 cases, that everything went I
wron~g. The childron wore fretful, tlhe C
cook dilatory amid cross an~d Mr. Winkle- c
man imlpatienit, becaulso sundry little
matters pertaining to his wairdrob~o weroe
not just to hia mtinhd.t
"Eight o'olock,and no0 breakfatst yet," k
said Mr. Winklemain, na ho drew~i oult his ~
watchl, 0on comlpletinlg his own toilet. t9
Mrs. Winklemnan was in the act of dIress- 1
ing the last of the five chtildron, all of
whom had passed ulnder her hands. fm
Each had boon1 capltions, cross or lunruly, c
sorely tryinig the 'mothler's patience. u
T wice hlad she been ill the kitchen, to 1
300 how breakfast was p)rogreslsing, and( hi
to enjoin the carefull preparationl of li P
favorite dishl with whlich shte hlad pro-.
plosed to surp~riso hecr husbandlll(.
"It will be ready in a - fow mninultes.," a
said Mrs. Winklemnan. "'The fireohasn't f
burned freely this morning." )
"If it isn't one thing, it is anlothier," 'I
growled the husband. "I'm getting tired E
of this irregularity,' Thore'd s'oon ho0 no p
breakfast to get, if I were .lways behind
ime) ini bulsiness matters."
Mrs. Winkloman bent lower over the T
ehild she was dressing, to coniceal thie 0,
expression of her face. What a sharp
pain now throbbed through 1her temuplesi n
Mr. Winkleman began to pace tile floor -i
mplationitly, little imnagilning that every ~
arring foot-fall was a blow 011 the senisi- ti
ve aching brain ,of his wife. 1h
"Too bad 1 top bad I" he had just
acuated when the biall ranlg.
"At 1ast 1" he ninteered, and strode ni
,wards the breakfast room. The chil
ren followed in considerable disorder
nd Mrs. Winkleman, after hastily ar
anging her liair,and putting on a morn
ig cap, joined them at the table. I
ok sonie nioments to restore orde:
mong the little ones. 0
The dish that Mrs. Winkleman han
coni at considerable pains to providi
Dr her husband, was set 1) side his plate
t was his favorite among many, and hii
rife looked (for a pleased reeognitioi
hereof, and a lighting up of his cloude(
row. But lie did tiot seem even to no
ice it. After supplying the children
fr. Winkleman helped himself in silence
,t the first mouthful, he threw downi hi
nifeoaind fork, 'aind pushed his lat
'A omhim. hs la
"What's the matter?" inquired hi
"You didn't trust Bridget to cool
his, I hope ?" was the response.
"What is the matter with it ?" Mrs
Vinkleman's eyes were filling witl
"Oh ! it's of no consequence," answer
d Mr. Winklemnani, coldly; "anythint
till do for me."
"James I" There was a touching sad
ens blended with rebuke in her accents
nad, as slhe uttered his name, tears gush
a over her pale 'cheek.
Mr. Winkleman did not like tears
'hey always annoyed him. At the pres
ut time, lie was in no mood to beni
'ith them. So, on the impulse of th
1moient, lie rose from the table and,
king up his hat., left tie house witiouil
Self justification was tried,though not,
s has been seen, with comlete success.
'lie calmer'grew the mind of Mr. Win.
miman,.and the clearer his thoughts, ti
%s satisfied did he feel with the parI
e had taken in the morning's drama,
ly an inversion of thought, not usual
miong men of his temperament, lie had
een presented with a vivid realizatior
fhis wife's side of the question. Th<
mnsequence was, that, by dinner timic
e felt a good deal aslianed of himself,
ad grieved for the pain he knew hi
asty worde had occasioned.
It was in this better state of mind thai
[Ir. Winklemnan returned home. Th<
ouse seemed still as lie entered. As li
roceeded up stairs, he heard the chil.
ren's voices, pitched to a low key, ii
ic nursery. He listened, but could
ot hear the tones of his wife. So i
assed into the front chamber, whicli
as darkened. As soon as ho could set
[early in the feeble light, lie perceived
tat his wife was lying on the bed. Hei
yes were closed, and her thin face look
I so pale and death-like, that Mr. Win.
leman felt a cold shudder creep through
is heart. Coming to the bedside,he lean
1 over and gazed down upon her. Ai
rst lie was in doubt whether she really
reathied or not, and he felt a heavy
eight reioved when lie saw that bei
liest roso in feeble respiration.
"Maryl" He spoke in a low, tendei
id loving voice.
Instantly the fringed eyelids parted,
id Mrs. Winldeian gazed lip into hei
usband's fac- in pai-tial bewilderment.
Obeying the mnomen-t's aimyulse, Mr.
linklemnan bent dow~. and loft- a kiss
pon her p~ale lips. As if moved by am
octric thrill, the wife's arms were flung
cound the husband's neck.
"I am sorry to find you so ill," said
[r. Winkleman,in a voice of sympathy.
What is the matter?"
"Only a sick headache," replied Mrs.
[inklenman. "'But I've had a good sleep,
id feel better now. I didhn't know it
as so late," she added, her tone chang.
ag slightly, and a look of conicern oom
ag into her countenaice. "'I'm afraid
our dinner is not ready;" and she at
limp)ted to rise.
But ler husband gently laid her back
ith his hiand, saying :'"Never minad
'mont dinner. It will como ini good time.
you feel hotter, lie perfectly quiet.
ave you suffered much painm.?"~
''Yes." The word did not part hem
ps sadly, bunt camne with a softly wreath
1 smile. Already the wan hue of hei
aceeks was giving place to a warmer
ut, and the dull eyes brightening.
That a healhing power was ini his tender
mes and1( considlerate words I And that
iss-it.had been a nectar to the droop
g spirit. "Blut I feel so much bet ter,
imt I will get up," she ad'ded, now ris
g from her pillow.
And Mrs. Winkleman was entirely
oec from pain), as she stepped upon the
rpet, and moved across the room, it
as with a firmn tread. Every muscle
as elastic, and thie blood leaped along
ar veinis withi a iiew and~ healthier im
No trial of Mr. Wikea' patience,
a a late dlinner, was in store for him. Inm
few minutes the b~ell summoned the
mily; and lie took his plaeoC at the ta
he so tranquil ini mind, that ho almost
ondered at the change in his feelings.
:owv dif'erent was-the scmne from that
resented at the morning meal I.
And was there power ini a few simplec
ord1s to effecti o great a change as this?
es, in simphle words, fragrant with the
:lr of kindness.
A few gleams of lighti shone into the
dind of Mr. Winkleman, as lie roturnied
using to his ofilce, amid lie saw that lie
as frequen tly to blame for the clouds
aat so ofteni darkened over the sky of
"Mfary is foolish," he said, in partial
dif-justiflcation, "to, take my hasty
orls so munch to hart T sakten
without meaning half what I say. She
ought to know me better. And yet,"
he added, as his stAp became slower,
for he was thinking more ingenuously
than usual, "it may be easier for me to
choose my words more carefully, and to
repress the unkindness of tvie that gives
them a double force, than for her to help
feeling pain at their utterance."
Right, Mr. Winkleman I That is the
common sense of the whole matter. It
is easier to strike, than to help feeling
j or showing signs of pain, under the in
fliction of a blow. Look well to your
words, ye whose words have the most
weight, and fall if dealt in passion, with
the heaviest force.
Making Things Over.
"Maria," said Mr. Jones upon one of
his worrying days, 'it seems to me you
might be more economical; now there's
my old clothes. Why can't you make
them over for the children instead of
giving them away ?"
"Because they're worn out when
you're done with them," aiswered Mrs.
Jones. "It's no use making things over
for the children that won't hold together;
you couldn't do it yourself, smart as you
"Well," grumbled Jones, "I wouldn't
have closets full of things mildewing for
want of wear if I was a woman, that's
all. A penny saved is a penny earine(l."
That was in April. One warn day in
May Mr. Jones went prancing through
the closets looking for something he
couldn't find, and turning things gener
ally inside out.
"Maria !" he screamed, "where's my
gray alpaea duster ?"
''Made it over for Johnny."
"Ahem I Well, where's the brown lin
en one 1 bought last sumner ?"
"Clothes-bag I" numnbled Mrs. .Joues,
who seemed to have a diffieulty in her
speech at that moment. "Just made it
into a nice one I"
"Where are my lavender pants ?"
"Cut them over for Willie."
"Heavens !" groaned her husband.
Then in a voice of thunder: "Where
have my blue susipenders gone to ?"
''Hung the baby jumper with them."
"Maria," asked the astonished man,
ini a subdued voice, "would you mind
telling me what you have done with .my
silk hat; you haven't made that over for
the b)aby, have you ?"
'"Oh ! no, dear." answered his wife
cheerfully. "I've used that for a hang
ing basket. It is full of plants, and looks
lovely." Mr. Jones never mentions the
word economy or suggests making over
he had enough of it.
High farming is a system of tillage
and farm management that is self-sus
taining, a system that takes nothing but
the bare land, the domestic animals, the
farm implements and machinery, and
cultivates the soil, sustains the family
and the animals, pays the annual taxes,
defrays the expenses incident to the mi
provements that must be made on the
farm, cancels the annual interest on the
money invested in the land, eventually
pays for the land, all from the prodilets
of the soil cultivated; and after one, two
or three decades of years, leaves every
acre in a far better state of fertility than
the soil was at tho beginning. Th'lis is
high farming. There are untold nunm
hers of quiet, unobtrusive tillers of the
soil in many of our States,wvho have com
mnenced precisely as we have indicated,
without one dollar of cash capital, who
have had no revenue whatever besides
the natural resources of their cultivated
fields, and who have by hard work and
judicions management sustained their
families, p~aidl for their lands, erected all
of their buildings, p~aid for all their val
uab~le improvemen ts, andl at the same
time, have brought their land to that
state of productiveness by their judi
cious management, that every acre yields
as much, if not more, than it did origi
nmally in a state of nature. This is high
farming. Yet such a system is %ften
sneered at simply because the propnrie
tor knew how to save his money to de
fray expense of improvements. There is
no need of land becoming imploverished,
(een when it bmears a crop every year.
Proper cultivation with plenty of man
ure is thme key to) high farming.
D~on't, You Forgot It.
A Detroit man detected his wife and
ai neighboring man planning an elope
ment. Heo allowved them to proceed uin
disturbed to a certain point, and then
called in a policeman. T1hme result is
thus related: He took 'a lamp and led
the way to the woodshmed. Th'le neigh
ber, dressed in his Sunday suit, was
tied up in one corner, and the recreant
wife occupied an emnpty dry goods b)ox
in the other. "Got 'em last night at
9 o'clock," said the husband, "and I've
put in the whole dlay telling 'em what I
think of such business. Guess I'd bet
tor let 'em off now, hadn't I?" The
officer thought so, and the neighbor,
was released, led to the door, and the
husband said; "Nowv you trot, and If
you ever try to run away with my wife
again I'll-I'll b)e hangedl if I don't go
over and tell your wife about it!" Hie
then turned to his wife,untied the cords,
and said: "I guess you feel ashamed of
this, and there ain't no neced to say any
more about it. I ain't very mad this
time, but if you try it again there's no
knowing what I may do." "Well?"
gasped the ofileer, as lie drew a long
breath. "Well, didn't I git 'em?"
ehuckled the husband, in proud delight.
"I may look like a spring chicken, but
I'm no fool, and don't yu fmrget tt"
Daiol Webster's Visit to Queen Victoria.
Daniel Webster, said Mr. Rogers, has
been sitting with us and we enjoyed for
an hour his delightful conversation. De
clining an invitation from the Dowager
Lady Charleville, and punctually at
three o'clock, the hour named, Julia and
myself left our lodging for Buckingham
Palace. Alone and unattended, except,
of course, by our footmanwe approached
the royal residence, guarded about the
porticos by "Yeoman of the Guard."
We entered and ascended the grand and
stately marble staircase with no other
companions than its inmerous attend
ants ranged on each side, even to the
door of the mirrored saloon where her
Majesty war. Mr. Webster and Mr.
Charles Murray were awaiting our ar
rival at the doorway. The Lord Chain
berlain instantly advanced and signified
briefly that it was the qieen's pleasure
we should immediately approach the
royal presence and make our devoirs.
This we did in the best way we were
able, the Queen in the most gracious
manner acknowledging our courtesies,
and pronouncing ill a loud and distinct
voice our separate names. I soon per
ceived by cortain motions that some
thming was about to occur. Lady Forbes
and others, who were near me at tie
doorway, instantly retreated "en face"
into the adjoining room and formed a
line on each side. Through this the
Lord Chamberlain appeared, backing
forward, followed by others il olhice an1d
about the household. Soon the Queen
appeared, and from the opposite gallery,
ilto whiCh he had backed, appeared the
royal family, including the Duke amid
Duchess of Cambridge, and Princess
Augusta. They advanced, placed them
selves in line, and her majesty embraced
them all, kissing each. She then passed
on, saluting others stationed each side,
and entered the dancing room. Tie
throe room was the dancing room; the
Queen commenced tho-hereditary Duke
of Saxe Weimar. Her majesty was
dressed with great simplicity, ill a white
tulle over white satin, trimmed with
piuk roses, and pink roses in her hair,
and a diamond necklace looped behind
in the braids of her hair, and a diamond
fieniero. Mrs. Webster appeared to
have enjoyed the royal dinner. Two
bands were playing in adjoining apart
ments. The Queen was first helped
oil all occasions. At the close of the din
nor the Queen's health was drank, all
stam:ing, she alone sitting and bowing
all around during the ceremony. Mr.
Webster had a long conversation with
her majesty, and thought her intelligent
and agreeable. She is also said to be
enegertie anud with a decided will of her
own. On a recent occasion she thus
replied to Lords Melbourne and Palmer
ston, who were urging her on some
point to which she was averse:
"What is the use of being a queen if
one cannot do as one likes ?"
Her majesty appeared to highly enjoy
tihe dance, and was ready with her little
foot forward to commence the first mo
ment the music sounded. As the Prin
cess Victoria, she was celebrated for
her charming singing with the piano
forte, but as queen these accomlhish
mlenlts are considered as uindignmified, and~
her voice is now heard only in the pri
vacy of her own closet, and niever inl the
drawing-rooms of the Palace, as form
Th'le steamship Nebro from Rio Janeiro
lately fell ill with thme bark Tiger,
sevenity-seveni days oult, and shlort of
provisions. She sup~pliedl her crew who
were inl a mlost deplorable condition,
having sustained life for several days on
strips of leather soaked in lamp oil unltil
tihe oil gave out, and then Oil the Cap
tain's dog, after which, there was nlothl
ing hut cannibalisnm aind deathl staring
them in the face. To addl to the~ir suif
fo'ring two vessels paissed several dlays
before witin a shlort distance, but paid
no0 attentionl to their signals of distress.
As the steamer Nebo came up with
tile TIiger thley saw thme latter lowering a
boat. After somne moments of hard
straggling shle enmie alongside. Her oe
cup)ants were dlresse'd in oilskins and
evidently very weak.
"'What do you want?'' sang otut Cap
"We are starving to death, w~e are
starvinlg to dleath,'' exclaimed the imant
inl the sterai shooets excitedhly.
"Dlid youl say you were starving?" de
manuded the Captain agaimii Sm urprise.
"Yes; we arc starving. See this is
all we have hlad to eat inl ni10 dlays."
Hie held aloft the skinl of a dlog, anid oine
of the menci held uip a picce of boot
''God help us,'' exelaimedl Captain
Gordon, "'COimo on b)oard( right away,
andl we will do what we enn for you."
A ladder was thlen lowered and the
men hlelped aboard the Nebo and given
The young Germn Commnander of no
Tiger told the Captain of tile Nobo lhe
had1( been 124 (lays oult from Liverpool
with a carg~o of common salt, and lie hasd
been inl a mo1(st dreadful conditionm: lie
was bound inlto Balt imnoro, and mao
Cape henry early in .Janmary, and was
blown off the shore inito tihe gulf stream.
Front that time lie hiad been tossedl
hlithler and thither by time winds and
clurrents. Ho had twelve moni before
the mast, all of whiomn had displayed the
ultmost fortitudoe unider the inuost tryinig
cirotmstancesi. The provisions rani abort,
one monthi an. thaon bemo may . oMt l
then the bread. Nine days ago, that. is,
nine days, before that spoken of by the
Nebo the list drop of water was drank,
and thri three days later everything,
even to boot's and shoes, had been do
voured. They were literally without a
bite or sup. The Captain's dog lad
been killed, skinned aid eaten, and ther
lots were cast for the cat. The poo
beaist wis saved by the Captain lumself,
who besought the men not to destroy it.
The stalrving men spared the cat, cut ni
their boots,soaked strips in lamp oil an(
ate tleml. This horrible food gave out,
and then the poor wretches eyed caic
other suspiciously and hungirily, and
would havo killed the cat could they
havo found it, but the Captain hid it,
and the panugs of hunger wero unap
peased for five days. Some of the mue:
meditated suicide. God knows how
many of them thought of murder and
eannibailism. Had the steamer not comt
to the rescule, the CIItaill of the Tiger
said lie thought soIlethilg moreo terriblc
than starvation would have been enalet
ed oil board. The Nebo ment at monthi'm
provisions o board. When the first
boat load arrived,the mate leaped aboard
the Tiger eatng a biscuit. le was
poiuced upon by his ihipmates, who
literally fougit like dogs for the crackei
then they rushed upon other provisions
and tore them in the maie way 1as fain
isied wolves might. have done. The of
ficer of the Nebo adds- We got provis
ions4 oil board and sot them at large one
more. They shook tle reefs out of their
top sails, set their top gallant sails, anid
steered in our wake. She was right aft,
but. the vessels bottom wats so full of har
n1les she could not make much head
way. She was ahl to get along, how
ever, and when last we saw her she was
signaling adiens and tlanks
Pminin1g for Exerelse.
An ordinary looking traveler wient into
the dining hall at the Union Depot, In
dianopoliB, carrying a nice satchel. He
walked ip to the counter, put down the
Hatelel, called for a Cup1) of coffeo and a
piece of pie, whichl he devoured. Leav
ing the satchel by the counter lie aiaunt
ered to the other side of the room, and
entered into conversation with a gentle
A policeman coming in aind seeing the
itchel apparently without an owner
picked it up, and said: "Hello, anyone
know anything about this keystor ?"
"That's mine," said the traveler.
"Better take care of it. or some ono
will steal it.
''Oh, 1 guess not; I'm ain old trave
The policeman walked on; in a few
minutes in came1 at dapper little man,look
ed carelessly walked over to it, careless
ly picked it up, and was going for the
door when the owner sang out: ''Hello!
where you going ?"
Going to it hotel."
"Well, what lire you doing with that
satchel?" going over to him. "That's
my satchel hand it over." But the d. 1.
l. held oil to it, and without any ado
the traveler knocked him down a time
or two, and was p)roceeding to polish
him off nicely when interrupted by the
p)olicemnan, who separtated the rnien, anld
whlile receiving an explanation from tile
straniger, tile thief escaped. The trave
ier pult his satcliel down bly tile coiuter,
whlere it'was before, anld went to tile
Other side0 of the room to lonltinlue tile
The p)oliceman eyed the Ratcelc, then
the man, and1( walking over to him saild:
"'Nbw, seC hlere, whlat do you1 meani by
leavinig that bag over. thlere; wvhat sort
of game is thlis anyway ?"
"W~ell, I've been traveling for over
six weeks,and I'mi pinling for a little genl
tle exercise, thalt's all,'' said1 tile trave
Travela (If an1 Eyje-Stonel
Rulfus Miller-, is a wvell known farmer
living att Mcihan)iestown, Conn). Sonme
five or six year-s aigo,just before retiring,
Mr. Miller p)laced in hlis eye whlat was
known~ as an eye-stonio, for tile purplose
oIf removinig ai mote, ats 110 had frequent
ly done before. For thie benefit (If those
(of our readers who may unot know wht
an eye-stonle is, we will explainl. It is
a1 smalll, whito, rounid 511l1, ablout4 thlree
sixteenths of ani inch11 ill diam)Ietelr, con
cave On on10 side, con1vex (on the othier
and1( quiito tin. It is taiken from tile
hiead of the Crab1, on1( b)eing found under
eachl eye of that erustaceanl. InI the
nmornling whien Mr. Miller awvoko he
con11a nIot finld tile stone, Hie miade aI
(carefuil anud thtoroiugh scaireb, bult all in
was gone for good. -Not long ago lb
felt a hard growth on1 tile end( of tihe
little finger oIf his righlt hand. He sho0w
0(1 it to 801mo friends, whoC coneluided it
wvas a wart and ad(visedl im to lot it
alone. He( d1id un~til 50ome time ago, when
it bega- to.1)0 sore, and 110 commened~
picking at it. lie soon found out that
some hiardl substance wats un1der theoskin,
and1, (digginig away, 110 finally took out
his long-lost eye-atone. Ho examined
it so carefully thlat there can1 be no' mis
take. Ho now recollects thmat at 011e
time lie experienced a con)sideble sore
ness in1 his wrist, and1( suppose at thAt
p~eriodl the stone was prossing~ in that
direction, How this bit of carbonate of
1l1me ever made that long journey with.
out being lost or absorbed is a mnystery.
That it did so there cn be no doubt.
ne The Wonderful Biridge.f
One bright morning in Juno, grandma
was standing by the south window of
the sitting room, looking at the groat
apple trees in neighbor Evan's garden.
The green leaves were rustling in the
mor'ning breeze, but it was not the
leaves at which she was looking just
then.The children wanted to know what
it was that she saw, and she pointed to
a slender thread that stretched from the
ground up, through the goldon sunshine
to one of the leafy boughs far up on tho
big tree. and glistened like a line of sil
vor as it waved in the breeze.
''What is it ?" cried the children in a
"Such a long, long spider's web, "said
"A wonderful bridge," said papa.
'Little Madam Araohnid was up in
thotree there, and wanted to got down
to the ground. so instead of jumping
down and getting bruised, and going
way round and climbing down the trunk
of the tree, she made that pretty
"How Could sh ma111ke it," aketd the
'Well,'' saitt papa, "she alwayg car
ries with her a little factory-over so
many little spinner" "lose together-and
when sho wants a . Igo, a little thread,
ao fine you could see it starts from each
spinner. She puts perhaps a thousand
of the gossamer threads together, and
they make the beginning of a 'rope,'
like tiat. you see yonter. Tien she
glues the end of the rope to tie limb of
the tree, and jumps off into the air and
swings down toward the ground, the
s.pinners working as fast. as they can,and
the shining rope growing longer and
longer, and the breezeblowing her gent
ly away from the tree. Whel she reaches
the ground, she breaks off the rope
close to the little factory, and fastens it
to some stick or spear of grass. All this
she does am (ilick as we can tell of it.
Whenl she wants to go into the tree
again, she runs up the ropes as easily as
you go u1p the stairs; and if she wants to
prevent aiuy other spider from using her
bridge, she untasthns the lower end and
carries it with her, folding up the bridge
as she goes over it I
''Sometimes, when the wind is blow
ing, Madam Arachnid will fasten an end
of her rope to a twig, and jumping off
into the air will let the wind blow her
like a kite across to another tree, and
then she will have a bridge more won
derful than anly susIIsiol bridge that
man ever mado. Mrs. Spidor and Mr.
Spider, and all the little spiders,ean run
bac(kward and forward on this bridge as
easily as you can run from one tree to
another oi the garden walk; but if an
unfortunate little fly should try to walk
onl that same bridge, his feet would
stick to it; he could not walk Onl it atf all,
and he would have lots of trouble in get
ting .away,and perhaps would stick there
till the spiders caie out and ate him
"Do they miake anything besides
bridges out Qf those bright threads ?"
"Yes," said papa. "they ma~ke a great
vatrie'ty of traps and snares to catch flies
and b~ugs anmd oth~er little creatures. Did
you never see cobwebsa on the bushtes or
in the corner of a room ?"
"W~illie: "Yes, sir. Are they made
thle same11 way this is, and are all webs
Papa: "Yes, my boy they are made of
tile samo silky thiread1s as this bridge
tied together so as to make a snare or
trapl, for tile spiders are great hunters
and trapplers. In hot couintries, where
the very large, poisonous spidera live,
they somietimes bulild their webhs strong
enou~gh to catch birds andt small snakes.
Sometimes youl will see a thick web
madeo in tihe shape of a rond-ltube. Thon
it is not a trap), but is tihe spider's
Willie :'"Do people uise spidler wtebs
for anything ?"
Papa: "A humndred y'ears ago a French
man made a plair of gloves anld a pair' of
stockings of tihe silk from a spider; and
the silk is sometimes uised in every deli
cate secintifle inistrunment, such as suir
veyor's telescopes. Cobwebs made by
hiouso sp)iders are somectimies used 4%
medicine, anid arc useful to sto!. bhi
ing from cuts, etc."
Inicaatins or tile W',eather.
The color of the sky at particular
times affords wond~erful good guidance.
Not only a rosy sunuset prosages good
weathler, but there are other tints which
speak with equal clearness and alcuracy.
A bright yellow sky in the evoning inl
dientes wind; a pale yellow, wet; a lneu
tral gray color constitutes a favorable
oneO in the morning. Tihe clouds are
again flull of meaning in themselves. If
thecir forms are soft, undefined, full and
feathery, the weathler will be fine;~i
their edges arc hard, sharp aind definite,
it will be foul. Generally speaking, any
deep, unusual lues betoken wind and
rain; while the more quiet amnd delicate
tints bespeak fair weather. It is verf~
true, however, that all signs in regard
to the weather sometimes are deceptive
Words are nice things, but thley strike
hard, We wield them so very easily
that we are apt to forget their hidden
power, Fftly spoken, they fall lke the
sunshline, tihe dew andtho'sumnmer rain -
but when unlfitly, like the frost, the hal
andl the desolatinG teamnent.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Change reldom, for changes are incon
Ifooks alone can never teach the use
Choleric men sin in haste and repent
Better to slip with the foot than the
Bear, and blame not what you cannot
Kind words are bald-headed. They
can never dyo.
Converse not upon subjecte which load
to impure ideas.
Consent to common custom, but not
to common folly.
Contend not with thy friend lest thou
make him an enemy
Consecrate to dod the first fruits of
your daily thoughts.
The best way to circulate a story is to
try to keep it a secret.
Quarrels would be short-lived if the
wrong were only on one side.
If you would not have afiliction visit
yon twice, listen at once to that it
Agriculture has not only given riches
to a nation, but the only riches she can
call her own.
A noble part of overy true life is to
learn how to undo what has beeni
The moment a man begins to rise
above his follows, lie becomes a iiark
for their missiles.
We don't throw bomb-shells at our
rulers to destroy thon. We let office
4ookers torture them to death.
There is a whole sermon in the Per
iian saying, "1 In all thy qunarels leave
the door open for reconeiiation."
Undor the now management of the
navy depnrtnent no oflicor will'he o)n
titled to promotion until lie has had four
Good teniper is like a sunny day; it
sheds a brightness over everything; it
is the sweetener of toil and the soother
The worthiest men are most injured
by slanders ; as we usually find that to
be the best fruit which the birds have
been picking at.
Bad temnper is its own scourge. Few
things are bitterer than to-feel bitter.
A milan's volom poisons himself more
h1an1 his victim.
To pronounce a man happy moroly be
eauso he is rich, is just as absurd as to
all a man halefthy ineroly because he
has ooigh to eat.
A sad truth, half of our forebodings
aUbout our neighbors are but our own
wishes, which we are ashamed toutter
in any other form.
Stories first heard at & mother's knee
iro never wholly forgotten, a little
4pring that never dries up on you jour
iey through scorching years. .
The business of life is to go forward;
to who sees evil in prospect meets it on
lie way; but he who catches it by re
rospection, turns back to find ib.
Man's value is in proportion to what
1to has coufageously suffered, as the
valne of the stool blade is ill proportion
:o the tempering it has undergone.
Lot us be what we are, and speak
wlat we think, and in all things what
ioever, koop ourselves loyal to truth and
Jhe sacred professions. of friendship.
Sincority is like travoling in a plain
beaton road, )vhich commonly brings a
nant sooner to. his journey's end than
)yways, inl which mn .often lose them
Affectation in any p~art of our carriage
a lighting up a candloe to ou,r defects,
md never fails to make "us to be taken
Lotice of, either as waiting sense or
Let us not forget that every -station
ni life is .neossary ; that each deserves
tur rcspecot; that not the station itself,
but the worthy fulfilment of its duties
lees honor to man.
It is remarkable how iittle is needed
in order to act.' The .power conmes of
itself ; will and memory are all that is
necssary ; but just for this reason so
[ow know how to act.
All useless misery is certainly folly,
rind ho that feels evils before thoycomo
may be deserycdly censured, yet surely
to dread the future is more reasonable
than to lament tlhe past.
I am p~ersuadbed that many persons say
more about their siihs being too great to
be p~ardboned than they either believe or
reel, from a supp)lostion that it is a token
)f humility to talk thuns.
'Whether perfect, happiness would he
secured by perfect goodness, -this world
will never afford an opportunity of de
siding, but this, at leas , may be main
Lained, that we dd not always find visible
Voltaire had a perfect iiorror of in
isitivo persons. Ho said to one of
persons-"M'ir, I am delighted to
u, but I give you fair warning-I
nothing about what you are going
It is not easo, but effort, not smooth
uess, but difficulty, . that makes men.
I'here is no stationm in life in which diftl
suhties have not to be encountered andl
vercomo before any decided measure of
umecess can be achieved.''
Lo nover 'tires ; and thme more we
love the more we have of solid satisfao
Lion. Every now souml we come in con..
tact with and learn to .esteem, fills us
with n)ow% life. Those who love othera
ire themselves full of sunshine.*
There is scarcely a single joy or sor
row within the experience of our fellow
Lreatures which we have not tasted, yet
thQ, belief in the good.and the beautiful
has novo'r forsaken us. It has .been
wmedioineo ini sickness, richness ini poverty,
rind the best part of all that ever de
lighted us in health and success.
There is great difference between the \
two temporal blessings, health and \
wealth. Wealth is most envied, but
Least enjoyed ; health-is (requently en
joyed, but the least .envied ; amnd .the
superiority of the l'atter is still more ob
niou's that the poorest man *dal~d not
part with his hialth foi~ money,- bfit-the
richest would gladly part with his iioney