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TWO LITTLE MAI I KN-'.
A sorry UuIh uiaiutm la Mws Fuss-and-Feather, Crylu Tor the golden moon, ri. tiiblinfr at the weather; TliH irni will fade her gowu, Tin rail spoil her booim. If lac reutuiee oa 4M lets U Tall uyiu it. A merry little iutiln I Mi Rai: and rattora, (JtlHtt Utf Of I ' tw'llkh'ltf 9tl'i Au. in ti y other lUH't-Ts; I'rtuoinin Uiaauuvtiiua. Patteriugtbroiwti tbe rain, Her clothe n?er cause her A ingle thought or pain. . Hide Aaxxke. KAxKS' BABIES. I was detained over Sunday in Barns- tmry, ami on sunn morning i re solved to go to church. The. flrst church I came to, a small structure with a wooden steeple, had the doors and and windows tight iy shut, but there was a man sitting on the front steps whittling a stick, and I said to him: "Are you connected with this church T Yes,' he said, 'I'm the sexton.' What is it closed for?' 'Well, mostly on account of Banks' babies.' 'Babies?' 'Sit down, and I'll tell you about it. You know Banks, he came to thip town to live a few weeks ago a perfect stranger, and he rented a pew in this church. It seems that Banks had three little babies, triplets, not more'n two months old, and then, besides these, he bad twins about a year old. So no body knew about the babies; but Banks wanted to have the little darl ings baptized, and he allowed to Mrs. Banks that to rush the whole five ba bies into church on Sunday might ex cite remark, you understand. So he settled it that he'd have 'em christened gradually, so to speak. Accordingly the next Sunday he fetched little Jira oiie, one of the triplets, and all went off well enough. On the followin' Sunday he come a promenadin' up the aisle with George Washington, another triplet, and Dr. Binns, our preacher, he lixed him up all right. People thought it was queer, but when on the next Sunday mornin' Banks and his wife came into church with another baby, William Henry, crying like a Pawnee war-whoop, some of the folks couldn't help snickering. Howsom dever, nobody complained, and all might have been well if Banks hadn't come along the Sunday after with Elijah Him liker Banks, one of the twins. Everybody laughed and Mr. and Mrs. Banks were furious mad as anything, you know; and when Elijah Hunsiker Bauks hauled off accidently with his hand and hit Dr. Binns who vas holding him duriug the ceremony a whack in the face, and the doctor dropped him in the' water, Mrs. Banks turned red as fire and looked as if she would like to murder somebody. Well, you know, we all thought this was the last, and public feeling kinder simmered down on toward the end of uie weeK, wnen wno should come booming up the aisle on Sunday morn ing but Mr. and Mrs. Banks, with Te cumseh Aristotle Banks, the remainin' twin! Well, you ought just to've heard that congregation laugh ! I nev er seen nothin' like it in all my experience. Even Dr. Binns had to smile And the Bankses, they were perfectly wild with rage. Anyhow they baptised Tecumseh; and after meetin' some of the elders got to jokin' about it. One said they'd have to ap ply to the town supervisors for an ex tension to the water works; another allowed that arrangements ought to be made to divert Hucklebei ry creek and run it down the middle aisle of the church; another made some kind of a joke about business being good because so many Banks were in town; another said that Banks would need about twelve pews when his family grew up. Somebody must have told Banks about it, for what does he do to revenge him self? He sends down to Clarion county to his two sisters to come :md bring their children. So they had I couple of babies apiece, and as soon as they arrived Banks he begins to bring them to church gradually like the others. You never seen such moetin's as them! The church was jammed full and the people just roarin', And when Banks came in on Sunday with the fourth and last of his sister's ba bies, the trustees thought it was time to interfere. Gettin' to be a farce, you know. So Deacon Smith he stepped up and said somethin' or other to Banks, and Banks, quicker'n a wink, laid down the baby and banged the deacon with his list. And bo, I dono how it was, but in a minute there was Banks and Deacon Smith and Deacon Hubbard, and Banks' sister's baby and me, all a rollin' and a burapin' over the floor, hittin' and kickiu' and whoopin' in a manner that was ridicu lous to behold, 'And when we all come to and got straightened out, ll ink . picked up the battered baby of his sister and quit, and the trustees held an informal meetin' and agreed to close the church for a month so's to kinder freeze Banks out, and now we've shut up; but I reckon it is no use, for 1 hear Banks has got his back up and gone over and joined the Baptists." So I said good day to the sexton, and went in search of another sanctuary. The "wreck register" of Great Brit ain shows that during the year 1879-80 there were 2,519 wrecks, in which 3 138 vessels were involved. There were 603 collisions; of these 48 were between steamships, both under way; 181 be tween sailing vessels under way, and 164 between steam and sailing vessels, both under way. The loss of life was 231. The National Lifelwat Institu tion saved 2,923 lives. There were casualties and wrecks to 329 ships from 7 to 14 years of age, and to 586 from 15 to 30 years old; 37 of the ships were between 50 and 60 years old, 20 from 60 to 70, 7 from 70 to 80, 5 from 90 to 90, and two of the "wooden walls of Old England" were over 100 years old centenarians and then falling in the midst of their work. The aggre gate number of shipwrecks in the last 26 years on the English coast amounts to 51,841. with a total loss of life of 18,550 men a total nearly equal to the number of men who man the British fleet to-day. During the sam.- period the National Lifeboat Instil tit ion has been the means of saving 18,736 lives. The Owosso Times. vol. in. A LITANY OF PAIN. At times, when my pulses are throbbing With currents whose newish finw Sets all i strung spirit a-subbing wiui umntMttSN, yet passionals wo, I question with feellne that falter, i ininmur wiui lips tbat complain: 'What profit to lay on God's altar obligations of pain? "Can he, in the infinite gladness l bat floods all ins being with light, ouiphu-euily look on the sadness That m, i . to Intrude on his sloht? Can he, in his rhythmic creation, Attuned to the cli.uit, of the nithurm Bear the discord of moans, tiie vibration h uowu-oioppiug tearhV "Would I, a mere woman, foreseeing -miiiio ..nuuit-h inv dearest niiiHt face. Not guard, at the risk of my being, lis ousetor die in his uwerr And yet, can the Father, who loves me Wit.li love that's Biiiireiner, foreknow the Houl-wreuch impending above me Mor ward off its woe Be quiet, pir heart! Am the lessons l.i o-i.s ihee so iiunl to attain That thou know'st not their potonteut essence Lies wrapped in the problem of pain? Even nature such ruditat nts teaches; Ihe liinli-lhroe preaaueB the Itieatb: The soul so high-deBtimed, reaches Its highest through death. No beaker Is brimmed without bruising the clusters that tfUuueu the vine: No gum gillterB star-like, refusing 1 be rasn tuat. uncovers its shine: The diver must dare the commotiou of billows above him that swirl. Ere he from the depths of the ocean .hi utiag up me pearu And he who Is molding the spirit, Throuuh tliscinllues chaiiireful and sore. That so it be fit to fnborit The marvellous htMishm in store measures the wen. i t he is piling, tie tempers the surge with a touch, There 'II not he a grazo of his filing Too liule, ton much. O, heart, canBt thou trust him? For m :. . of Attain meal the noblest, tbe best, nntent thee awhile to partake of These trials so wisely impressed; Nor question dud's goodness, nor falter, Nor say that thy i-emce is vain, If he bMi thee bring to bis altar UDipsgti oi umu. Independent. HUTU'S THANKSGIVING You see just how we're fixed!' said Deacon Obed Carey to Mrs. Elam Skin ner. The gray November twilight was closing, like the misty shadows of a dream, over the desolate valley that lay between the rock-crested hills, fringed with hemlocks and white pines, while the gray-green foliage of cedar copses gave a ghostly shimmer to the distance. Just at the mouth of the valley the mirror-like gleam of Lake Champlain reflected the dull firmament, and be yond, the peaks of far-off mountains lost their outlines in the low-hanging vapors of the sky the Adirondacks themselves! But Deacon Carey, who had been cradled, as it were, among their garden ers, never thought of the Adirondacks, except as a very unprofitable invest ment of land. Familiarity breeds con tempt, and even the Colossus of Rhodes ceases to inspire awe to its next-door neighbor. 'Folks come a dretdful ways to look at them hills,' said the deacon, irrever ently; 'and, arter all, they ain't no great shakes. Give me a good medder lot, or a lield where the yaller pump kins is a-shinin' out among the shock ed corn! That's my notion of beauty! Guess it would be a pretty long while afore anybody raises a cropo'rye ouc o' the Adirondacks. And, after all, there was an inkling of common sense in the deacon's view of things. Mrs. Elam Skinner lived in a brown farmhouse whose overhanging eaves made you think of a boy who had pull ed his cap too far over his eyes a farmhouse upon whose shingled roof the gold and scarlet maple-leaves rained down in rustling drifts at every sough of the melancholy wind. There were not two such maple-trees along the whole shores of Champlain as those Mrs. Skinner's grandfather had plant ed in the Revolutionary days, when he never knew, coming home at night with his ax over his shonlder, whether he should not lind his home a heap of smoldering cinders, with the cry of the savage redskin where his babies' coo ing voices had sounded at the morning tide! He was in his grave, dust and ashes long ago, but the maples renewed their yout": with every year. Within you saw a low-ceiled room, with colored prints hanging on the wall, a mist of asparagus over the clockshelf, and white and yeUow chrys anthemums blossoming between the net-fringed curtains of the three little windows. A rag-carpet, woven in dazzling stripes of red and blue cover ed the tloor, while the bricks of the clean-swept hearth could not have glow ed brighter if they had been carved in Neapolitan coral, and a fire of splendid chestnut logs blazed and crackled, wreathing the polished brass flredogs as if they had been a pair of John Rogers at the stake, suffering continual martyrdom. Mrs. Mtmner Herself, a wiry compact little woman, in a green gingham dress and winking spectacles sat darning stockingc by the blaze; for she was a thrifty dame, and while she begrudged the wasted moments of twi light, she had no idea of lighting a can dle until it was fairly and squarely dark. Obed Carey occupied the cushioned rocker opposite, tall and brawn and loose-jointed, with here and there a silver thread in his dark hair, and hands where the veins stood out like cord. A hard-working man, and a man who accepted bis inheritance of toil with a sort of grim sttisfactiou,he would have afforded no inappropriate type of tin- New England farmer of the past generation, as he sat there, erect and thin and uncompromising. And while her elders talked, Ruth Skinner sat close against the chimney- OWOSSO, Hamb, a tin-pan full of apples in her ap, paring diligently away, with the firelight glinting on her sunny brown hair. Ruth was small and dimpled, and exquisitely fresh, like the rosy peach winch hangs on the south wall after the first frosts, and she had violet-grey eyes darkening to blue around the edge of the irides, anddewey, scarlet lips.aud a slender throat, circled with a string of red wood-berries; and, as she worked, there was an unconscious grace in her motions that made you like to look at her. "Yes," said Mrs. Elam Skinner, an swering the deacon's remark; "I see. It was a dreadful unfortuuate dispen sat ion that Mrs. Cary should betaken away." 'r our years ago this very month, said the deacon, meditatively; 'four years ago. A houseful of boys is a tryin' thing, Mrs. Skinner.' 'I should tnink it must be,' said the widow. And it's a remarkable orderin of Providence that 1 should have six boys and you six gals.' i es, said Mrs. Skinner, breaking off a needleful of gray yarn; 'nut my gals has all done well. Malindy, she's mar ried, and lives in Burlington, and Sophrony is teachin' school 'cross the lake, and Sarah s at the factories in Lowell, and Alethea's lived to Squire Hall's these two years, and Kate's do ing well at the millinery business, and Ruth, she kind o' makes herself gener ally useful to hum. Ruth ain't like the others; she ain't good for much.' The deacon hitched his chair, with a grating noise, across the heai th, to get a better view at the little figure bend ing over the pan of apples. She's good to look at, pretty anyhow,' he said with a cumbrous attempt at a joke. Humph!' said Mrs. Skinner, whose respect for the merely ornamental was extremely limited. 1 s'pose Sarah and Sophrony's comin' home to Thanksgivin' T hazarded Mr. Carey. Mrs. Skinner nodded brieliy. 'Wall, that's sorto' providential too,' said the deacon, somewhat embarrass ed. 'Bein' you've got so many gals, uiebbe you'd spare one.' 'Spare one r 'We hain't no women folks to our house since Hepsibah Duckett stole the spoons and went to Canady; and I set my foot down not to have no more hir ed help, and it was son o' forlorn last Thanksgivin' Day, and the boys, why, they missed the turkey, and so I kind o' thought if Miss Ruth wouldn't ob ject to come over and ginerally hev an eye to things, it would be a sight o' ac commodation.' 'I'm willin', if Ruth is,' said Mrs. Skinner, composedly. 'We've got as fine a turkey as ever squawked,' went on the deacon, 'and Jared he fetched in a pumpkin off the side-hill lot, bigger'n a half-barrel, and I bought a peck o' cranberries from Huldy Simons, so there ain't no lack o' things to do with. What d'ye say, Miss Ruth?' Ruth hung her head, and blush ed like the pink-cheeked apple she had just taken up, 'I I have no objection, if mother thinks it proper.' 'Proper!' echoed Mrs. Skinner. 'Why on airth shouldn't it be proper? Of course it's proper!' Wall, said the deacon, rising to his lanky fullness of height, 'I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you, Miss Ruth, and to you, too, marm.' Don t be in a hurry, said Mrs. Skin ner, hospitably. 1 guess I'd better be goin', decided Mr. Carey. There ain't no tellin' what mischief the boys may be gettin' into afore I get back. Boys will be boys, and they need a dretful sight o' watch- in'. 'Dear, dear!' sighed the widow. 'Jared he wants to wear his Sunday clothes to shigin' school, and John wants spendin' money of his own, and Josey he sticks out for't he's got a right to burn a candle arter ten at night ef he s a-mind to, and Lewis he buys picter papers every week, as it money growed on blackberry bushes, and 1 do feel to get 'most discouraged sometimes. There ain't nobody but a father knows what a father's trials is, Mrs. Skinner.' And the deacon went out with a groan. 'The deacon don't seem to realize that his boys is men growed sa'd Mrs. Skinner, as she rose to light a candle. 'Ain't you most through with them ap ples, Ruth?' And Deacon Obed, plodding home ward through the deepening dusk, with the dead leaves mailing under his feet, and the raw air biting like the stings of a million infinitesimal gnats, thought of Ruth Skinnur's rosebud face, and wonderod how it would seem to have her at the Cavey farmhouse for a per petual blossoming of brightness! I ain't so very old, arterall,' thought Deacon Caruy, 'and there ain't no law against a man's marryin' again, as ever I heered oa. But she's young and skeery, and I must drive kind o' slow at first. It was a good idea, that o' mine, borrowin' her for Thanksgivin'. Ruth, Ruth, it's the prettiest name go in', and site's the prettiest gal! I couldn't think o nothin' but the little strawberry applts on the gnarly tree by the well every ti me I looked at her cheeks. Besidei i, she is a savin' creeter, I know, for I w atched her parin' them apples, and she never wasted a grain, and she's worn that brown caliker ever since last Marcl i.' And the dea con chuckled as these thrifty meditat ions pasied through his brain. It was Than ksgiving morning, chill and raw, with the summits of the Ad MICH., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1881. iroudacks veiled in slowly drifting snow flakes, and Lake Champlain shin ing up with steely glimmer where the bend of the valley revealed its far-away surface. The leafless trees seemed to stand shuddering in the blast the pines and hemlocks, their needlelike foliage transformed into a thousand niwiining wind-harps, tossed their green crests to and fro, like human creatures groping blindly for help in some awful strait. Nature was chanting her Mis erere, and the grand mountains seemed to listen in silence. But the Carey homestead was all alive with warmth and cheerfulness and red firelight. It was a huge, old fashioned house, with great, smoRe browned rafters crossing and recrossiug overhead, and curious wooden wain- scotings half-way up the walls, and odd little three-cornered cupboards built, as if by malice prepense, in the most in convenient places, and fireplaces that gave you the idea of the rooms being mere afterthoughts and appendages. Nor was the furniture a whit more modern. The chairs, tall and claw legged, tipped you inhospitably forward; the lookiug glasses warped and twisted your features into a deathblow to all vanity; the chest of drawers stood in a high-shouldered manner against the walls, with Argus-eyes of -brass, and the old clock on the first landing of the stairs ticked a slow, mournful mono tone, which would have driven a hy pochondriac mad. Little Ruth Skinner stood at the kitchen table, a white apron tied over the brown calico dress which had awak ened Deacon Carey's admiration, and the sleeves rolled up above her round, white arms, stirring some fragrant com pound of spice and raisins and orange peel, while five of the six 'Carey boys' stood around surveying her, as five tall barn-door fowls might stare at a tiny golden pheasant, or a Seabright ban tam. 'Boys, boys!' croaked the deacon, emerging from his room, in the glories of a blue suit with brass buttons, and a pair of shirt collars that held his chin up at an angle of forty-five degrees, 'ye haven't no more manners than a pack of gypsies! Miss Ruth, don't mind 'em.' 'Oh, I don't, I assure you, sir,' said Ruth, laughing. 'Lewis, please give me the iron spoon from the nail by the dresser 'I wish you wouldn't call me sir said tbe deacon, with what would have been a tender glance if the shirt collars would have admitted of it. Ruth arched her pretty eyebrows. 'What shall I call you?' Call me Obed,' wastrembling,on the deacon's lips, when he caught the ten eyes of his sons fixed wonderingly on him, and the words never found utter ance. The deacon looked into the oven instead, and coughed sonorously. You won't go to church, Ruth?' 'Oh, 1 can't, sir Mr. Carey, I mean. The turkey must be looked after, and it won't do to risk burning the pies 'Well, boys said the deacon, 'come along.' 'Can't I stay and help Ruth ?' ques tioned Lewis, a young giant of nine teen. 'No, you can't said the deacon, brusquely. 'Pretty way o' spendin' the Governor's Proclamation Thanksgivin', to be home round under Miss Ruth's feet. You'll go to church, every skin on ye, or my name ain't Obed Carey No sono' mine stays home from church on such a day as this. Where's Joe?' 'He was out a-fodderin' the creeters sullenly answered John, the second son. 'Joseph! Joe!' bawled the deacon, but there was no answer. 'I guess he's gone to church,' observ ed Jaffa, who was giving his cowhide boots a last tender application of candle-end in front of the fire. 'He needn't ha' been in such a hurry grumblingly commented the deacon; 'but he al'ays had a way of his own of doing things. Ruth, my dear, don't stand so near the fire you're burnin' your face the color of a cabbage rose.' Ruth murmured some scarcely artic ulate answer as the deacon tapped her cheek with clumsy espieglerie, and bent more closely than ever over her work. Where's my woolen comforter?' next demanded the deacon. 'Hosea, go back in the big corner cubburd for't.' Hosea left off tormenting the cat to obey, buthe presently lifted up his voice aloud: 'Door's locked, father.' 'No, 'tain't locked nuther sharply responded pater farailias. But he went to inspect the 'cubburd for himself. nevertheless. Well, if I ever!' cried the deacon Which of you young mischiefs litis got the key ?' There was a shout of unanimous de nial. The deacon looked round with lowei itig brows. 'If that ere key s lost Ain t them the church bells?' And, postponing the judicial investi gation until the religious services of the day should be over, the deacon caught up a stray mufller, twisted it round his parchment-like throat, and sped upon his way, with the five sons following in long array. And Ruth Skinner was left alone, with the crackling wood-fire, and the ticking clock, and the soft clicking of the snow-flakes against the window panes, and the plaintive strain of a hymn-tune she was murmuring under her breath as she arranged the cran berry tarts on the dresser-shelf and filled up the oven to its very mouth with paste-shells full of golden, trem bling custard. Only for a moment, though. There was an ominous grating as of the wards of a rusty lock in the corner cup-lo;.rd-door, and a smothered laugh, and the next instant Mr. Joseph Carey, a tall, handsome young fellow of three or four and twenty, burst out, like I magnified 'Jack-in-the-box.' doe!' cried Ruth, turning scarlet 'Don't!' 'Don't! You mean do said Joe, un ceremoniously taking Ruth round tin waist and lifting her fairly off her feet. 'Why, I thought I should have stifled among the old hats and boots.' 'But, Joe, it's so wrong'' It would have been a deal wronger. little Miss Morality, to sit pretending to listen to Elder Longsentence when my heart was in the old kitchen at home with you. Now, see here, Rutn, I'm not going to stand this tiny longer. Give me the big iron spoon.' Joe tied a towel deftly round his slim, well-molded waist, and commenc ed stirring vigorously at the s:uicepan be took from Ruth s hands. Isn't that right?' Yes said Ruth, dubiously; 'but you mustn't spatter so.' Mr. Carey accordingly relaxed some what of his over-zealous earnestness, and looked at Ruth over the top of the table. 'Come, Ruth, you promised to give me an answer to-day.' Miss Skinner shook out the folds of a snowy mass of table naper) , and eyed it thoughtfully. Is this the best table-cloth V Yea no I haven't an idea. Hang the table-cloth! I'm not talking about table-cloths. Is it to be Yes or No, Ruth?' Ob, Joe, we are both so young Nonsense.' I suppose the napkins are the right ones ?' Do you suppose I stood a mortal hour in that cupboard, with my nose up against the buffalo robes, to decide the question of napkins with you? I will be answered!' Well but what shall I say ?' I should say 'Yes,' if I were in your place But, Joe ' Look here, Ruth,' and Joe overturn ed the saucepan in his enthusiasm. Here's where it is. Would you rather be my wife, or my stepmother?' Joe!' As if you hadn't suspected it all along, you little, demure kitten! Come, don't keep me in suspense!' He put both his hands, with a sort of imperative tenderness, on her two wrists, looking with his full, brilliant hazel eyes into her shrinking, rose-red, smiling face. Let me go, Joe, quick! The turkey is scorching I smell it!' Not one step was the firm reply. But is burning!" cried Ruth, pit eously. Oh, Joe, please!' Not until you have decided my des tiny. Yes or No!' Yes, then, you provoking fellow!' And Ruth, highly resenting the kiss of affection which Mr. Joe stooped to possess himself of, ran to the oven. It's burned! I knew it would be!' she breathed. Not a bit of it said Joe, critically surveying the royal bird over her shoul der. It's just beautifully browned. No thanks to you!' said Ruth, petu lantly shrugging her shoulders as she reclosed the oven, after basting and turning its contents in a most scientific manner. Now help me set out the table, for I'm getting dreadfully be hindhand; and what vill your father Uay when he comes home from church and finds dinner not ready r It shall be ready!' said Joe, solemnly. I tell you, Ruth, you don't know half the resources of my character as yet!' 'That was a proper good saririon,' said Deacon Obed Carey, pulling down the brim of his fur cap to protect the extreme tip of his nose from the driv ing snow. 'Boys, walk along straight, and don't be loitering behind like a lot o' Sandwich Island heathens. Yes, an edifyin discourse apples o' gold in pictures of silver. 1 do wish Ruth had a-heerd it.' 'I hope the turkey'll be ready when we get home said Hosea, smacking his lips. 'You needn't be afeard, Hosy, 'an swered the sire, complacently. 'Ruth Skinner understands her business as well as the next one. She is a stirrin', smart gal as ever I see, and economical too!' I never shall forget how bad I felt the Fall arter your mother was took away, seein' Hepsy Duckett dress chickens slingin' the gizzard and liver away like a wasteful huzzy as she was. 1 watched Ruth last night. I tell ye my luart jumped up into my mouth she came to the gibbets! But she washed 'em clean, and she chopped 'em up fine, with bread-crumbs and pt pper and salt, to make the stuflin', and says I to myself, 'Many darters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all! To see the way she wrings out herdish cloth, too it would melt a heart o' stun!' Hosea looked at his father with the slightest soupcon of a twinkle in his eyes, and began to whistle under his breath. The deacon walked on, lost in his own blissful reflections. The Thanksgiving dinner was ready a culinary triumph as the church goers came in, bringing a whiff of keen northern air with them, and a plentiful powdering of snow on their broad shoulders. The turkey himself brown, glistening and unctuous, lay in the centre of the board, with wings meekly folded and breast distended with aromatic stuffing, while ranged round him, quivered pink and amlier jellies, and crimson cranbery tarts blushed through their lattice-work of puff-paste, while mince-pie and pump kin, custard and suet puddings, sent up an odorous appeal to the senses. Applffc red and i ussent, flanked either end of the board, whilestone pitchers of cider, freshly drawn by Joe, foamed NO. 28. and sparkled brighter than the chain pagne of any fair vineyard of France And the deacon, propitiated by this burnt offering of savory meats, forgot to reprove Joe for bis delinuttincy in the matter of church. Ruth,' said the deacon, mildly, as he looked at the turkey, and the chick en-pie beyond it, 'you re a good cook a very good cook, my dear. I wish we could keep you here al'ays!' Ruth colored, and looked at Joe. Joe set the chairs around the table with very unnecessary emphasis. When, toward twilight. Ruth nut on her scarlet shawl and hood, protesting that 'she must go home the deacon rose up to escort her. 'Sit down, Joe, he said, wavine his hand authoritatively. 'Take your seat again, Jared. lou re nothin' but boys. I'm the proper one to see Miss Skinner safe hum!' 'I I would rather go alone, sir!' fal tered Ruth, But the deacon tucked her arm Dro- tectingly beneath the sleeve of his sliHggy, butternut-colored greatcoat, and they set forth together. Ruth, my dear.' said the deacon. breaking a silence that was beginning to be embarrassing, after thev had walked a little way beneath the creak ing boughs of the snow-fringed hem locks, Sir fluttered Ruth, softly. It seemed very pleasant to have vou' to our house to-day, among them rough cubs o' boys Joe isn't a rough cub, please, sir. said Ruth, plucking up a momentary spirit, and feeling herself color like pink cream-candy. Wall, said the deacon, somewhat surprised at this unexpected partisan ship, ! dunno but Joe's the best of the lot; out that s neither here nor there. I was going to ask you how you would like to stay tnere tor good and all r I don't understand you, sir!' said Ruth, stopping short in the midst of snow and darkness. To come there and live to be my wife Mrs. Carev the second !' exclaimed the deacon, beginning to feel uncom fortably warm about the regions of the nose and cheekbones. Don't you un derstand now, Ruth ?' Oh, sir !' uttered Ruth, withdrawing her arm, and trembling all over, ! cannot !' Oh, yes, you can sid the deacon, benignly ! know you're young and inexperienced, but 1 m willin to over look all that, and ' But, sir interrupted Ruth, scarcely knowing whether to laugh or cry, ! I ve promised to marry Joe ! And, breaking away from her escort, Ruth ran away, through the blinding snow and sleet, toward the far-off red light of the Skinner farmhouse. Deacon Obed Carey walked silently back, chewing the end of his own meditations; and from that moment to this he has never once alluded to his matrimonial aspirations and their un timely blight. But the next Thanks giving Day he ate his turkey at the hospitable board of son and daughter-in-law, with a little cherry-cheeked grandchild tied in a high-chair close to his elbow. Sunday Magazine. The Waiter, A crusty-looking old gentleman, accompanied by the regu lation well-ted consort and a couple of well-favored daughters, entered the dining-room of the Del Monte, anil, as he tucked his napkin beneath his gen erous chin, turned round and tixed a fierce glance upon the waiter behind his chair. Look here, my man said the old party, sharply, before I give my order want to ask you a question. Are you an Italian Count in disguise?' Devil a bit replied the surprised coffee-splasher. Nor an English nobleman, the un accountable delay of whose remittance has temporarily compelled, etc ?' Naw, zur.' Nor a graduate of Harvard, and estranged from your father, a rich Bos ton banker, whose haughty pride is as unyielding as your own, etc. ?' Oi am not All right; here's a dollar, and you can bring in the grub. Now that I know you are not the regular thing in waiters nowadays, that you are not go ing to run off with one of my daughters or pick my pocket, I can rest in peace. The greatest sugar retiery in the world is now under construction on tidewater, San Francisco. The brick building facing deep water in South San Francisco will be 400 x 150 feet, and thirteen stories high (140 feet). A salt water supply of 3000 gallons a minute is drawn from the bay, by a tunnel, for the monster condenser. By March next it will le finished at a cost of 11,250,000. Its yearly capacity will be 00.000 tons of refined sugar. Claus Spreckles is the master spirit. It is a result of the reciprocity treaty, by which Sandwich Islands raw sugars are admitted free of duty. He has now thirty vessels employed (all built there) plying between the islands and San Francisco. He planted sugar cane on a large scale on islands hitherto wild and uncultivated. He has tapped the mountains, and every acre is irrigated. He buys all the native production. Twin babies born to Mrs. and Wil liam II . Chapin, of Gilbert's Mills' Os wego County, during the campaign of last year, were named Garfield and Ar thur. They are now sturdy, handsome little fellows of precisely the same size and weight, and they resemble each other so perfectly that their mother has to keep a string tied around little Gar fleld'B waist in order to tell them apart. The spicy breezes of Ceylon are per ceptible to the sense long before the isl and is reached. The Condor. The condor is a native of the moun tain chain of the Andes, and is one of the largest birds of prey. The average expanse of the condor's wings in from eight to nine feet, ami the length of the iHxly from the point of the beak fee theextiemity of th; tail three feet and five or six inches. The color of the condor is a grayish black; the wings are marked with white, and there is a collar of downy white feathers about the neck. The crest of the male is quite large. The internal structure of the condor pre sents some curious features; the gizzard is provided with longitudinal rows of horny spikes, which are supposed to assist the bird in the rapid digestion of its food. These birds often attack cows, bulls and deer, and as their assaults are chiefly directed upon the eyes, they blind their victims, and they soon fall by the blows which are inflicted upon them by the beaks of the birds. The condor is very strong, and even when wounded a powerful man is no match for one of these creatures. The Indians have a great dislike to these birds, and if they capture one ol them alive they torture it very cruel ly. Their mode of capture is as fol lows: They kill an animal and expose the body in the open air. The condors soon assemble in large numbers and feast upon the flesh. As soon as they are gorged to the full the Indians dash in among them and capture them with their lassos. When they feel the noose around their necks they endeavor to reject the meal which they have swal lowed, but are made captives before they are able to rid themselves of the food. The flight of these birds is grand and beautiful; they seem to fly by moving the head and neck rather than the wings. Very little has been known of the habits of these birds until lately, as they live at the height of from 10,000 to 15,000 feet, and only come down to the lower points in search of prey. The Indians assert that the eggs are laid upon the bare rock, the bird making no nest whatever. Although there have been condors in the Zoological Gardens at Dresden since 1874, it is only recently that any thing has been found out in regard to tbe length of the brooding season, their habits at the time, their manner of feeding their young, etc. The condors in Dresden commenced laying in April, 1877, and, after that, laid from two to three eggs yearly in April or May, but unfortunately they crush their eggs immediately, or after playing with them several days. Last year a nest of dried branches, feathers and wool was made in the top of the cage, about two meters from the ground, and it was thought that the birds would avail themselves of it. Loose material for nest-building was also put in the cage, but the female laid her eggs in the sand as before, and both the eggs were soon destroyed. The same thing happened this year in the middle of April. Shortly after the birds were removed into the large summer quarters of the birds of prey, and the female laid an egg on the 9th of May, in a dark corner of the cage. The next day the male commenced to brood. All the materials for a nest that the keeper laid under and about the eggs were rejected and scratched away, and the brooding went on upon the gravel bottom of the cage. The male devoted himself to the brooding the greater part of the time, the in dolent female only setting upon the egg about a third of the time On tha seventh of July, after nearly eight weeks, the keeper announced that he had discovered life in the egg, and on the same day a rent was per ceived in the shell. The next day the bird had almost escaped from the shell, only the head and neck remaining in, and on the following day the bird was entirely freed. Since then the old birds have been very busily employed in giving the little one the necessary warmth, and have manilested equal anxiety in feeding it with horse flesh and small pieces of cat and dog flesh. The little fellow, with its grayish feathers, looks something like a young owl. Its head and neck are quite black. 1 f any one approaches, it com mences already to utter angry cry, and the old birds are so ugly that the keeper can only enter the cage armed. The brooding continued for eight weeks less one day. Cassel says, in his "Natural History, that a condor s egg was hatched in six weeks and two days by a hen. This may be on ac count of the nest which the hen had. The young bird, on the flrst day, measured ten centimeters in length. and on the twentieth day twenty-eight centimetere. The condors are fond of bathing, and often sit upon their eggs with their wet feathers. The Law ot Finding. The law of finding is this: The tinder has a clear title against the whole world except the owner. The proprietor of a railroad car, a coach, or a shop, has no right to the property which may be found on his premises. Such proprietors may make regulations in regard to lost property which will bind their employes, but they cannot bind the public. The law of finding was declared by the King's Bench 100 years ago, in a case in which the facts were these: A person found a wallet containing a stun of money on a shop-floor. He handed the wallet and contents to the shop keeper to be returned to the owner. After three years, during which the owner did not call for his property, the tinder demanded the wallet from the shop-keeper. The latter refused to de liver them upon the grounds that they were found on his premises. Tbe former then sued the shopkeeper, and it was held as above set forth, that against all the world but the owner the title of the finder is perfect. And the finder has been held to stand in the place of the owner, so that he was per mitted to prevail in an action against a person who found an article which the plantiff had originally found, but sutisequently lost. The police have no special rights in regard to articles lost unless those rights are conferred by statute. Re ceivers of articles found are trustees for the owner or for the finder. They have no power in the absence of special statute to keep an article against the finder any more than the tinder has to retain an article against, the owner.