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HOW TTIK BABY CAME.
Whew did yon eome from. baby, dear? oi tb everywhere into here. Where did you get the eves no blue? Out of the sky as I oau e through. Wher did you g thn mtle tearf 1 fouod it wtuUug wb a 1 got bete. What makes your loi ehea.il no smooth ; hivh? A tort baud stroked It ta I VJtnt y. What makes your chtek like a warm, white rose? I mw something better thau anyo he kuowa. Wheuos that three-cornered smile of bliss? Three angels gave me at once a kiss. Where did you get this pretty ear? Uod spoke, and it oame out to bear. Where did you get those arms and hands? L ve made Itself into hooks and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the sxroe box as the cherub's wings. How did they all come Just to be you? God thought of me and so 1 grew. But how did you come to us, my dear? God thought about yon, sn-l so I hid here. A "HEAX-LIFJS" STORY. No; I refuse.' Ketlect a moment. Myrtle, I beseech you! You hold my life and happiness in your nanus ana the voice ol Adel bert Tompkins trembled as he spoke inese worus with an earnest news that forbade, even for an instant, any doubt as to their being the outpourings of his nearty MM 10 V I Myrtle Mahaffy was a beautiful girl, just budding into sweet womanhood, and Adelbert loved her dearly. They hud wandered together this summer af ternoon fiom the in tt i! um to the street car, and he had asked her to be his wife. It was in answer to this ques tion the earnest appeal of a man whose whole nature was wrapped up in a pas sion he could neither control nor cast aside that Myrtle had spoken the words with wbioh our story opens. She had uttered them lightly, even careless ly, and at the instant they were falling upon Adelbert's ears with the horrible distinctness that marks the ringing of a prison-bell as it tolls the knell of the murderer within the walls of the dun geon beneath, had smiled witchiugly upon Reginold Caryll, who was pass ing, and said, 'How do?' in a cheery voice to girl friend who accompanied him, but at heart Myrtle kuew that she was taking a step that might alter the whole course of her life. She was a girl of strong perceptive faculties, a keen judge of human nature, and knew that he who had spoken to her those words that breathed only devotion and love was a man of many good qualities and that he would cherish and protect her Willi his life's blood if necessary. But still she could not bring herself to marry him. She had watched him closely during an acquaintance of near ly two yean, and noticed with pain how be sedulously avoided candy stores and ice-cream saloons. 'I can never marry a man,' she had said to her mother one day, who shies at the sight of a candy store like a country horse at a fire-engine.' And when the expected avowal came she had kept her word. Adelbert turned around in a dazed sort of way after Myrtle had rejected him, and walked swiftly towards the dry-goods store which had been so for tunate as to secure his services. Sud denly the merry twinkle of a street-car bell aroused him from the reverie into which lie had fallen. 'Great heavens!' he said, I forgot to pay her ear fare. X. matter if the proud beauty scorned my proffered love, I should not have done this. She will think it is not the Tompkins blood that runs in my veins, but that of some base-born, cringing menial whose mind is tinged with sor did thoughts 'and he ohewed so ner vously at a toothpick that a fellow clerk who met him imagined that per chance he had been invited to dinner. All the afternoon Adelbert stood moodily behind the ribbon counter thinking of how he should revenge him self on the naughty girl who had wreck ed his happiness. At precisely 4:30 o'clock a fierce joy lighted up his coun tenance, and potting on his hat he left the store. As the bells of St. Agnes' Church were striking 9 a young atari .sprang lightly up the steps of a magnificent residence, and was soon seated in the sumptuously-furnished parlor. The proprietor of the house, a benevolent looking old gentleman, entered the room. 'Do you wish to see me?' he said to Adelbert Tompkins for it was he who had sprang lightly up the teps. VeV replied the young man, you are the person I seek.' 'What would you?' said the old gen tleman. You are the Cashier in the Bank, I believe?' said the young man. I am.' 'You have been stealing the con cern's money. Do not seek to deceive me. You are a C shier; 'tis enough. Give me 120,000 or I will expose you and ruin your life. Having heard me twitter you can choose your own course,' and calmly cutting a chew of tobacco from a plug which he fished from his dat-tail pocket Adelbert waited for a reply to his cruel words For an instant tbe Cashier did not move, and then going to an elegant escretoire which stood in a corner of the room he wrote a check for $50,000, cer titled it and handed tbe piece of paper now a fortune to the young man. 4 1 have but one favor to ask,' he said, and that is, that you will marry my dauffhter. I won dn t like to let as sure a thing as you are go out of the family. She has $100,000 in her own right, and when I am dead and the bank Directors are in jail on account of my bookeeping it will suffice to keep you in comfort. I accent your terms.' was all that Adelbert said as he left tbe home. Two months later Myrtle Mahaffv, the Cashier's only child, became Adel bert's bonny bride. One child, a blue eyed boy with golden hair, has blessed the union, and as he sitn on hid grand father's knee in front of the fire, and asks, in his innocent, childish way if 'papa isn't a smart man,' the old gen tleman kisse? him fondly, and says in soft, low tones: 'You're singing on the right key now, sonny.' From 'In Sunshine and Nhnthw' bgM. flnlstead. There's my band," he exclaimed, in a moment of courage and candor, "and my heart is in it ! She glanced at the empty palm extended towards her. an wickedly replied, "Just as I suppose you have no heart" The Owosso Times. VOL. III. AUrUMN WOODS. F.r. ia the northern gale. The Hummer tresses of the trees are gone. The woods of A.utumu all arouud our vale Have put their glory no. The mountains that enfold Iu their wide sweep the colored landscape round, Seem group of giant king, In purple and MM, I) hat guard the enchanted ground. I roam the woods that crown upland, where the mingled splendors The glow Where the gay company of trees look down On the green fields below. My steps are not alone Ia these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play, Files, rustling, where the painted leaves are strewn Along the winding way; And far in heaven, the whi'e, The sun that sends that gale t wander here. Fours out ou the fair earth his qaiet smile, The sweetest of the year. WhTH now the solemn shade. Verdure and gloom, where many branches uaet: So grateful whn the noon of Summer made ine valley nob wltti neair Let in through all the trees Come tue strange rays: the forest depths are Drlgui; Their sunny colored foliage in the breeze Twinkles, like beams of light. The rivulet, late unseen. Where, bickering through the shrub,its waters run. Shines with the image of its golden screen, Ana glimmerings or tne sun. Beneath yon crimson tree, Lover to listening maid mignt breathe his tl tme. Nor ma k within its roseate canopy Her blusb of iuaidu shame. Oh. An a m i, why so soon Depart ine hues tbat m tke thy forests glad. iny gentle wind, ami thy fair, sunny moon, And leave tnee wild and sad! Ah I 'twere a lot too blees'd. Forever iu ttty coloied shades to stray; amid the tresses of the soft southwest i o rove and dream for aye; Anl leave the vain, low strife That makes men mad the tug for wealth and power. The passions and the cares that wither life. And waste it little nonr. Wm, C. Bryant. JACK-A MENDICANT. From Behtrayla. A smooth haired, whitish-brown ter rier it was, with cropped ears, a black patch over one eye, and only half a tail; a thin, shadowy sort of thing tbat used to grub about in the twilight in the gutters, and in odd corners where poor people throw waste and rubbish, picking up its own living as best it could. If it had not known how to 'fend for itself,' it must have fared hardly indued; for though it had a mas ter who loved it as he would have lov ed the sun in the heavens, could his blind eyes have been lighted for one moment by its beams, and who treas ured it as he did the memory of bis dead wife, dead daughter, dead grand child, yet he had nothing but his love to give it, and love, as w I all know, though it never faileth, and is greater than faitli and hope, yet in hard times cannot so much as buy au ounce of bread; nor even get a bone for a dog. Caleb had been bund for more than twenty years. Once he had been a strong skilful workman who had never known a dinnerless table nor tireless hearth. Things had gone well with him in early life; he had married a stout young country woman, and had only one child by her a blue-eyed. fair-haired darling, whom they had christened Martha, but whom everyone loved to call M ittie. she looked as if she had been born to a pet name, and she stuck to it as a right. Mattie was sent to school and taught embroideries and needlework; she was not to work hard, as her father and mother had done before her, but was to lead the quiet gentle sort of life God soevident- ly intended her tor; and if, by and by. when father and mother were getting old and could no longer work for their darling, some good honest workman was to come along and offer to marry her well! then he should have her, and God's blessing go with her. But before Mittie was ten years old, or there was any thought of father and mother getting old, Caleb s great trou ble had come upon him. There was a huge tire at the factory where he worked, and Caleb, in bis zeal to save his master's property, was much burnt about his face, arms and chest. They took him to the hospital, where they did the be -i they could for him, and lie came out of it in a month s time with limbs patched, face sound though scarred, but eyesight gone forever. How the stout young wife would have wept over him if she had had time to weep! But time meant money in those dsys, and she set to work with a will to get the daily bread. No more embroideries for little M it Me; sewing and stitching will serve her in better stead now, for she can earn a shilling here and a shilling there, by plain needle-work among her poor neigh bors. And so things went on for ten years or more. Uaieb turneu woman in ine house, and cooked their small meals, and kept things straight and neat as he could without his eyesight; and the women turned men, as poor women often have to do, and brought in the I.,. umls and shillings, or. failing the pounds, the shillings, and the pennies, and even in those days had always wherewithal to help a brother or a sis ter Ittss fortunate than themselves. Then there came another change; fever set in in that neighborhood, and the brave strong mother was the first to fall a victim to it. Caleb was dazed with grief. Mattie wept her heart out, then set to work asain. but this time with less of spirit and courage. From house to house Caleb groped his way, begging for work he would do what he could for a sixpence a day; he was, so he said, 'a giant in strength.' 'True,' OWOSSO, said the people; 'but a blind giant is of no use to us, and we are too poor to pay sixpence a day for nothing.' I will go into the workhouse,' said Caleb. 'No man shall say I live idle upon ray little girl's earnings,' Then Mattie clung about his knees and be sought him not to leave her, telling hun a secret he had meant to tell the dead mother, how that she had married secretly a fine-looking young fellow, who had gone, she knew not where, nor even whether the name in which he had married her were his own. Caleb lifted up his voice and cursed the day wherein he had lost his eye sight. 'If t had but the glimmer of daylight wherewith to guide my steps, I would search the world through to tind the false-hearted coward who has brought this shame to our door. Lord, Thou hast dealt hardly with me in deed!' he said, with his sightless balls lifted heavenward. Mattie drooped day by day, but still she managed to keep her customers to gether, and sent home smart dresses tor gay young shop girls to wear in the summer evenings when tbey went walking out with their sweethearts. By and by a second Mattie came a little fair-haired, blue-eyed thing, like Mattie the first; and though Caleb cursed again the false-hearted man who had left nis Mattie to struggle through her troubles alune, the little creature came like a gleam of sunshine into the dark life, and no one thought more of her baby comforts, or took more tender care of the tiny fragile thing, than the old blind grandfather. For Caleb was fast becoming a pre maturely old man now. He lacked the Irst of youth's greatest preservers honest, steady, constant work; and he lacked also the second good, plain, wholesome food. What wonder if his back was bent, his brow wrinkled and his hair thin and gray! How they managed to struggle through another five years he did not know, no one quite knew. The furni ture in the little room (they had only one room now) grew less and less; also their bread was often eaten without but ter; also when the winter came round Mattie began to have a cough and complain of a pain at her chest. Then Caleb whispered something in little Matties ear, and the child led him down the stairs and along the streets to a bright sunshiny wall in the big city, where people were passing back ward and forward all day long, and where, if th old blind man held out ins hat, there might be a chance of finding a few stray pence in it at the end of the day. The poor people in the house where they lived felt their hearts touched when they saw the old man and the small white child creeping down tbe stairs together, and heard the poor suf fering daughter coughing as she stoop ed over her dresses and shirts. They shook their heads at each other: Ii can't go on much longer,' said one to the other; 'and what they 11 do without her, God only knows.' So they would give little Mattie a cup of tea or a bit of cheese to take to her mother, and tbe mother would drink the tea and give the cheese to the little one, and smile and shake her head and say she couldn't eat. And one day a small rough boy in the bouse brought to little Mattie a white terrier pup. 'Father was going to drown it,' he said, 'but I told him 1 thought you would like it, and may be by and by 'twill help to lead the old man along. Little Mattie took the puppy gratefully and called him Jack after her boy triena. They knotted a piece of cord together and put it round Jack's neck, and every day the old man. the child and the terrier pup were to be seen finding thcr way along t ,e streets to the bright sunshiny wall. Once as they stood thus in the bleak March weather, with a noith west wind sweeping the streets and dritting the dust into clouds that shut out the Spring sunbeams, a poor woman came hurriedly up to them. 'You'd best make haste home, Caleb,' she said, 'if you want to see your daughter again alive.' She forgot, poor soul, for the moment that Caleb hadn't seen his daughter for ten years or more, and never could in this life, at any rate, see her again. Hut poor people, you know, haven't much time to spend in choosing their words, and they don'i expect other people to be very nice in the. matter either. So Mattie and Jack and the grand father trudged the streets, and for once in a way got home by daylight, to find Mattie the elder (poor child, she wasu i Uve and-twenty then) lying on the bed. the sheet stained wit fi blood, and her feet and hands growing damp and cold. She a goiu fast, said one of the wo men about the bedside. O God,' cried Caleb, kneeling down on the bare boards, 'if only for one mo ment I might see those blue eyes lie fore they cle forever!' Useless the prayer, the beating of tbe hands against tlw closed barred doors; Mattie's life ebbed out that day before the twilight fell, and well two days after, there was another mound in the big pauper burial place outside the city. That was all. Yet I live on,' said Caleb, as day af ter day he took his stand by the sun shiny wall, Mattie by his side and .luck on his haunches a little in front. Mat- tie's clothes were very thin now, and her shoes almost dropping from her feet. One by one the little (Mid com forts the dead mother had bought her were taken to the pawnshop, and a few coppers, or af. most a sixpence, brought back in return. As winter crept on she began to grow white and shiver as the mother had done and men oougn and draw her breath in as though to let It ou gave her pain. The neighbors began to shake their heads again as they MICH., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1881. h id over the mother. 'She's going the same way, they said, whispering to gether 'and God help tbe old man then!' Going the same way, was she? Before the first winter snow had settled on the mother's grave, she was gone. And Caleb? Well, he had his dog left him, and his old clothes, and his sunshiny wall, and what would vou more? Poor people can't have everything they want, you know, in this life. When little Mattie lay stretched white and cold on the mattress on the fioor (the bedstead had long since disappear ed) on which her mother had died, the poor people came in aud did the best they coidd for her; poor people are not always thrashing horses and kicking dogs to death, as some think; they sometimes do little kindnesses one for the other, and show a refinement which people in higher ranks occasionally for get. So one brought a clean white sheet and wrapped the little girl in it, another combed out her fair hair, and a third (a flower-girl) put a spray of fern and geranium into her small, thin hand. 'She's looking that lovely, Caleb, she is, said a brown old woman of sixty with a handkerchief tied over her head. Lord, for this once!' pleaded Caleb, ifting his hands high above his head. For one moment only let my eyes be opened, that they may see the face 1 have loved and never known. The poor people stood back and heard his prayer, with their breath drawn in. Almost they expected a miracle to be performed had they not heard of such things in the churches? and for a mo ment the film to be lifted from Caleb's eyes, that they might rest on the face he had loved so well, before the cold earth had shut it in for evermore. All in vain. No answering Eph- phatha was breathed down from the silent everlasting heavens. Caleb's hands fell down helplassly to his side, and Jack crept out of a corner and licked them, and then the parish people sent their undertakers to carry Mattie away to the same big cemetery where her mother was sleeping. All gone but Jack! Well, a dog is something, after all, to have left one; and when one is old aud blind, and poor, one doesn't expect a great deal in ife, you know, but is just thankful for a crust of bread to eat, some straw or old clothes to lie down on at night, and a sunshiny wall to lean against in the day time; so the dog was altogether something extra in the way of mercies. How he do live on is a marvel, one to another would wonder, watching the old man creeping down stairs day after day to take his stand in the streets; and 'the dog is like a child to him now,' they would say as they noted Jack sit ting on his stump of a tail, waiting for a gap in the crush of carts and car riages before he would venture to lead his master across the busy highroad. It was in those days that Jack first began to 'fend for himself.' As long as the two Matties lived, there was always a plate of odds aud ends of some sort scrape it together how they might waiting for him Inside the door when he came in from his morning's work; but after they were gone, things were different. It was hard work enough for Caleb to get his own daily bread and ollect the eighteen pennies which paid for his miserable little cupboard (attic it was supposed to be) at the top of the house; so when he came in at four o'clock in the wintei's twilight with a loaf of bread and a few pence, the cord was unknotted from Jack's neck and the poor animal let free to forage for himself in the alleys and gutters. Jack in tins way became very punctual in his habits. At four o'clock he was released from duty; it took him about an hour to find his din- in the streets; and punctually at five he night be seen sneaking along some by street with a bone in his mouth, or the remnants of some fish, dodging skill- ully between passars by till he reached lome, where at his master's feet he would finish in calm enjoyment bis lardly earned meal, to which, be it toted, Caleb never failed to add some portion of his own, however scanty it had been. Tiiis winter of 1881 tried Jac and Caleb sore'y. In the summer things bad been a lit t 'e better with them; peo ple had a little more money to spend. and a few more half-pence would find heir way into Caleb's hat; and Jack also would sometimes get a pat ou the ead and a biscuit or two thrown to im; but in the winter things began to go very hardly with them. Not that the people ot the house were ever un kind to them. Poor soulsl they were Kind enough, as far as they had where withal to be kind; and one, who re uiembered the old mans wife, would come in and clean up his rorm for Mm: and another, who remembeied the blue eyed Matties, would patch up his old clothes for him; aud all would give a kind word or a pat to the faithfu lack, now the old man s sole compan ion and protector. More man uns they couldu't do. You see, when peo ple have hard work to keep their own and their children's bodies and souls together, they can t be expected to go about distributing loaves of bread, or have many remnants of meals to put down in their gutters to feed stray dogs and cats. When the long frost set in in Janu ary, many and many a night did Jack and Caleb go dinnerless and supperless to bed. 'Times are a little rough just now, but we'll see them out together, eh, old friend?' Caleb would say when Jack came to lick his hand by way of good night, and to testify his opinion that, whatever happened, bis master u as in no sense. to blame. Then they would turn in together, Caleb on his straw (the mattrers had gone the way of his bedstead now,) with his head on an old box for a pillow, and the faithful Jack huddled up on his feet. Would the frost never come to an end? It was all very well for ladies wrapped in their warm sealskins and velvets to say what a healthy Winter it was, and for young people with rosy cheeks, as they looked out their skates and pulled on their thick gauntlets, to deecant on the glories of a "tine frost;" Caleb and Jack taking their stand against the wall sunshiny, alas! no longer would have told a different story. Ah, surely never did east wind sweep down so ruthlessly before, never be l'ore did snowstorm last so long.never before were streets so forlorn and empty of passers-by. Caleb and Jack went home one terrible day at least one hour earlier than ujual it was useless waiting there any longer for alms Caleb with one halfpenny in his hat, and that the gift of a poor frozen-out crossing-sleeper who rightly judged lie old man to be worse oil than him self. Part of a loaf was all Caleb's food that day. 'Eh, old doggie, thou shalt have thy bite of it,' lie said, feeding Jack with crumbs in the hollow of his hand, 'for it's little enough thou'lt lind lor thyself in the gutters.' Little enough, indeed, anywhere, save snow and ice; and Jack may hunt high and Jack may bunt low. and thrust his patient old nose into all sorts of odd corners that seem to have a faint scent of red herring or haddock, but there's little enough of supper he'll get to night. What was it made him so late on this particular windy, frosly, snowy afternoon? Had he lost himself in a snw-drilt? thought Caleb, setting open wide his door and listening in vain for the patter and scramble of the four little feet up the now carpetless stairs. Six, seven, eight o'clock came and went, and still no sign of Jack; aud Caleb crept to bed at last, shivering and forlorn and with a sense of utter deso lation and loneliness at bis heart which he had never knowu before. Frost, snow, sleet, east wind, went on through the night and began again with the dawn. 'Nay, but you're not going out, friend?' said a kindly old body, meeting .uaieu on tne stairs as the old man wearily and slowly was feeling his way dowu, 'There'll not be a sou i in the streets with a penny to spare; you'll not get your bread that way to-day. - It's my Jack I'm going to look for to-day,' said the old man, 'not my bread; it may be he lost his way in the snow last night and he's waiting for me now in the old place by the wall. Give me a hand, neighbor, and help me along a bit, will ye? So the woman helped him along to the wall, through the biting wind and snow, but no sign of Jack when they got there. 'We'll try the baker's shop,' said Ca leb, thinking of their old haunts, and whether it were possible that the bak er s wile, who sometimes threw Jack a broken biscuit, bad taken him in, out of pity, for the night. Ai d while they were in the shop asking after the dog, there came in two children who had a strange story to tell, a story which froze Caleb's blood in his veins as he stood aud listened. They had seen a dog, a dog for all the world as like Jack as could be, being led along the day before by two men who came out of a public house, and who talked and laughed loudly as they went along. One said, 'It doesn t do to be too tender-hearted in these hard times; human flesh and blood reckons before dog's flesh and blcod any day in the week.' Said the other, 'And the doctor will give us a good 'arf-crown for him safe enough and ask no ques tions into the bargain.' Caleb trembled from head to foot. 'Take me to his house,' he said in a voice that startled the children, for it vibrated and twanged like any old harpsichord with all the music gone out of it. At the doctor's door the two children left him standing on the door-step, they themselves running away and peeping at him round the corner of the street A man-servant answered Caleb's ring. 'My dog!' said the old blind man in the same liarsli trembling voice; 'wnit have you done with him? He's white haired like me, and thin like me; you can count every rib in his body.' Ugh! how cold it wasW The east wind and sleet blew in the serva it's face, and how could he be expected to stand there talking with an old blind man on the door-step i He half shut the door. 'Your dog, old man!' In said; 'we know nothing about dogs here.' He would have shut the door ii Caleb's face, but the old man was too 'inn k for him. and had put his stick Hcross the threshold. 'My dog!' he re peated, louder aud louder; 'white-hair ed, thin like me; you could couutevery rib he had" A gent le i an wascoming down stairs at this moment. He was dressed in the glossiest of Hack with the whitest of ties. He had a gleaming smile, a thick square jaw and eyes that change I as vou looked at them. 'What is it?' he said tranquilly, coming toward the door Does the man want money? I do not like a disturbance on niv door-step. A dog, did you say white-haired thin Oh yes, I had him with two colleys yes terday afternoon. The brulel he was not worth the money I paid for him; he howled so we had to cut bis windpipe lefore we could do anything with him I wouldn't have had him if I coul have irot a third col lev: they are so much more quiet and patient Villain did you say, old man? No, I'm a physi ologist you shouldn't be abusive; tbe law protects me, and we must have subjects. There, that'll do.' and he waved his hand gracefully. 'Go away now. Wants his body!' This to the NO. 27. man-servant, 'Oh, by all means. Jo seph, give him what's left of him it's in the back yard.' And the physiologist, member ot at least one-halt the scien title societies of Europe, and with i high repute throughout the British Isles for his learning and humanity, went calmly into his study to finish writing down the re ults of his experi merits over night, on the two colleys and poor, white-haired Jack. Caleb took tbe mangled body of his old friend reverently into his arms, he passed his hand tenderly over the strained eyeballs, the blood-stained throat, the severed ribs. 'My God,' he said, standing there in the snow and east wind outside the closed door, can thank Thee now that I have no sight wherewith to see the wickedness these Thy creatures have wrought.' Ihe children came from round the corner and led him home again, 'Caleb still tenderly carrying Jack with his thin ragged handkerchief spread over tne poor torn body. Hours after, the neighbors wondered why there was not a sound of move ment in the old man's room, and went up, fearing he might be ill, and there was he seated on the floor with Jack's body on his knee, and the words of thanksg.ving still on his lips, ' God, I thank Thee that I have no eyes to see this devil's work!' Yes, he lives on, this old man, com panionless and alone; the neighbors do what they can for him, and he rarely wants a loaf of bread or a cup of tea now. Every evening, as the cluck strikes five, he gets up from his rickety chair, opens his door and stands listen ing for the patter and scramble of old Jack's feet upon the carpetless stair! Sill ! do you say? helms gone silly! It may be so; I do not know. Often we are wisest when most we are called foolish, and foolish when we are thought to be most wise. I only know that old Citleb stands daily, blind and silent, at his open door listening for the footsteps that will never return. Some day perhaps One may enter in with a message for him the Angel of Death. The Outlook of Pork. The outlook for pork is not as prom ising as some weeks ago, and there is a disposition among holders of pork to get rid of stocks at present prices. This weakness is the result of the reck less speculation that has been general among dealers for the past three months, whereby prices were advanced to such an extreme point as to cut off all demands for export and materially reduce the home consumptive demand. Thus, while the number of hogs pack ed from March I is 550,964 less than during the same time in 1880, tbe for eign export has declined 280,000,000 lbs., equal to a million and a half of hogs. While, therefore, we have real ly packed half a million less bogg since March last, there is really the product of over a million more hogs in the country than at this date last season. rhis is certainly rather discouraging. and if there were no other causes at work to strengthen the market, a sea son of low prices might be looked for. But tne situation in the country does not give promise of an average crop f hogs nor look favorably for the good condition of those that are being fed. This is the result of the high price of corn and the poor crop raised this pres ent season. At present prices many farmers are selling their corn and will feed few hogs. There will therefore be a considerable decrease in the num ber of hogs packed as well as in the weights. Whether the deficiency in numbers and weight will be enough to offset the decline in the foreign demand is a ques tion that cannot be answered positively by any one; but if exports do not in crease we may be certain that lower prices will rule. From the prospects we should think that the bogs first marketed will make the most money for their owners, as they have cost lit tle for feed so far, and where a farmer has any lit to send forward, he risks very li.tle in taking present prices. riiere may be a reaction in the trade later in the season, but it will be prob ably pretty late, especially if hogs come in rapidly in December. Tlu&e who sold eaily did best this season. In the Detroit market pork has de clined during the week, and mess is now quoted at f 1.85 per bbl., against $18 75 one week ago. Smoked meats are also lower, as w II as laid. Iu Chi cago mess pork has declined to $15.50 per bbl , and closed weak at these lig ures. Michigan Farmer. What tub Bullet Did. The I'onmrv is beginning to seethe niight i tlecLs 01 umieHus bullet, (innt is in power again ; C nk iug is spoken of is one of Aithurs constitutional ad- vis r-; the S ar R ute thieves are hap py ; 1 he hands begin to p'av, and the n una is unrolling.-Indianapolis Sentinel. The schooner Delia Hodgkins cap sized in a sauall on the morning of Friday last about four miles off Pol lock rip light ship. The captain and crew succeeded in getting aboard again and launching a boat, in which they left the schooner. They pulled all day for the light ship, but failed to make it owing to the wind and current, and during the night four men died from cold and exhaustion and their bodies were thrown into the sea. Saturday morning the fifth man died. That evening the survivors were picked up and landed on Sunday at West Dennis, Mass. Shall I give you a dime, Freddie? "Yes, uncle; if" "Yes, if what?" "Yes, if you haven't a quarter!" THE FARM. THINGS to do now. Get your heat ing apparatus in order, ull repairs made, and flues cleaned out at ouce. Dm'l wait for co'd wither to hurry you. lm in winter supph of fuel. Make qp h in; nine poe of n(.n muck, ie at- ol, hikI ma n ui e. It will pay. lloiiso iir mileii oows aud other cat tle at night now. it wlUwtte teed. Hepair broken panes of glass, have fastenings on your window-blinds, tret out your storm- houses, and get ready for cold weather. Dig your potatoes, bleach the celery, put in a spinach-bed, pick loose stones off the ground and repair the road with ' them. Husk your corn while you can do it without gloves or mittens. THE DRIVE WSLIj. Tbe Grange Visitor of Oct 16 con tains a reprint from another paper of a letter from Messrs. Lake A Hannon, proiniuent attorneys of Independence, Iowa, who have delved into the histo ry of this drive well, and they boldly state that if the people, will combine tney can beat this patent as they did the slide-gate. They aesert that they are able to prove- the existence and use of these driven wells long before they wtre patented by Green, and they were abandoned by him to the public. This is the ground taken by our granger friends in Michigan, and in pursuance thereof they propose to light, aud invite all outside tbe order who are interested to unite with them. At its last meeting Capital grange pledged $50, if called upon, to aid in defending these cases, and more will be given if nece:8ary, as we are in tonned by the master. Prof. W. J. Heal f the Agricultural college. He albo authorizes the statement tbat tbe grange will be glad to receive a little help from any out3ide of the order who may feel disposed to assist. Small amounts say a half dollar or dollar may be sent to Pi of. Beal, and will be thankfully received.but no one will personally solicit contributions. Lan sing Republican. How to Fatten Turkeys. Nothing pays better to be sent to market iu prime condition than the turkey crop. Many farmers do not understand this. Their turkevs Arrow .11 limited range, get little or no food at home through the summer, and if ted at all with regularity, it is only for two or three weeks before kill inar. I see these leau, bony carcasses in the ocal markets every winter, and feel sorry for the owner's loss. They have eceived a small puce for their birds. uid a still poorer price for the food fed out. The average life of a turkev s only seven months, aud the true ecouomy of feeding is to give the chicks all they can digest from the shell to the slaughter. If they can get all they can eat on the range, that is well. Usually this should be supple mented by regular rations when they come from the roost in the morning, and two or tnree hours before they go to roost at night. The food may be slack in the morning, so that thev will go to the range with good appe- ites, and luiior at night. They Bhould be put upon a regular coarse of fat tening food as early as the first of Oc tober, when you purpose to kill the best birds at Tharvksiivincr. Tbe youn ger and lighter birds should be n serv ed for Christmas and New Year's mar kets. They continue arowinsr auite rapidly until mid-vi inter, and you will e well paid lor the longer feeding. There is nothing better for fattening than old corn, fed partly in the kernel and partly in cooked meal, mashed up witn potatoes, reed three times day, giving the warm meal in t morning.and feeding in troughs with plenty of room, bo that all the flock may have a chance. Northern corn has more oil in it than southern, and is woith more for turkey food. Use milk for fattening, if you keep a dairy farm. Feed only so much as they will eat up clean. Cultivate the acquain tance of your tuikeys as you feed them. No more charming sight greets your vision in the whole circle of the year than a fiocR of bronze turkeys coming at the call from their roosts on a frosty November morning. New coru is apt to make the bowels loose, and this should be guarded against. I here is generally green food enough in the fields to meet their wants in the all, and cabbage and turnips need not be added until winter sets in. If the bowels get loose give them scalded milk, which will generally cjtrect the evil. Well fattened and well dressed urkeys will generally bring two or three cents a pound more than the lean birds. It will not onlv be bettenor the purse, but for your man hood, to send nohing but fiaished pro ducts to the market. Improved stock has proved theprob m of how to make the farm pay. It Isn such crop as can best be fed to st ck, and to this market our farm crop brings the best protiis with the east labor. Prominent among such . crops is grass. I a t us have more grass pasturage; take better care of it; don't pasture it to death ; give the grass a chance aud it will pay better than any tber crop for the stock farmer. Next comes the timothy and clover hay crops, aud if pasturage is short, a plat of rye sown iu the fill ff nds a fine reen food for winter. A plat of a iw edcoin jiehlsa rich crop to help out the snort pasture of July and August. A good crop ot oats is specially deaira- ole for horses and sheep. Our stand aid coru crop is, next tograi-s. the mo.-t important for the stock 1 aimer. Ex perience provi s the b, in lit ot grinding corn to get the I est results. S .earning and cooking is advantageous, but gioundoorn and oats is a mjre popular feed. It is poor economy to postpone the ie u ar heavy feeding of hogs intend ed for the slaughter until cold weather. They fatten nure easily during the mild weather of October than in the usual cold of December and Janu ary. The first Cold spell after the mid dle of November should find them fat enough to kill and they should all be in the smokehouses before Christmas. It is likewise poor econo ay to stint food and stop short of a good fat con dition because corn is scarce- while i' r'i is also correspondingly high. It is perhaps better policy to kill all that can be brought into fair condition, rather than carry them through the winter and spring and risk possible disease for another twelve month. In many sections of the country there is a scarcity of provisions, and this scarcity will be more keenly felt next spring than now. It is then fore wise to re duce the number of animals which re quire to be f ed , and thus, relatively, increase the food supply.