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STANDARD, A. A. EARLE, PUBLISHER. I No More Oompromiso witli Slavory, I TERMS, 81,25 IN ADVANCE. VOLUME 1. IRASBURGII, VERMONT, FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 185G. NUMRER 31. .oft"'" rliflS rood IS"e''. favonw r;y. Citcrarg Selection , PATE OP MONS. ACHILLE. Monsieur Achille was the richest ban ker ia Paris. Born and bred a Jew, he had when very young, from motives of interest, conformed to the Christian faith. He waa now about forty years of age, but looked some years less short, stout, sallow, with the features peculiar to hi tribe, black hair, bushy whiskers, small piercing eyes, dressed in the extreme of fashion, surrounded by every article of taste aad luxury in all extraneous cir cumstances, a gentleman and a bel esprit ; but in mind and heart, as in face and per son, a Jew and a plebeian. One morning, at the early hour of eleven, while seated at breakfast, he was startled by an announcement from his valet that the Duchess de Montifiore was waiting to see him in the grand saloon ; that she had come on foot, and unattend ed, and had only at last given her name when she found it impossible to obtain admission without doing so. Monsieur Achille's pale cheek flushed, then faded to a double sallowness, then he smiled, then almost trembled. At last, he desired his valet to return to the Duchess and announce his speedy arrival; then, having carefully revised his toilet, and fortified himself with a gla3s from one of the bottles of liquor on the table before him, he descended to the grand saloon. The duchess was standing with her back to him, examining a picture of ex quisite beauty, which hung on the oppo site side of the room. lie had time to close the door and advance half way up the apartment before she became aware of his entrance or turned to greet him. "When she did so, what a contrast did she present to him ! She, in her calm and emiling beauty so cold and so proud so supremely lovely ! He with his coarse and ordinary feautures; his ungainly fig ure, his embarrassed manner ! The duchess was a beautiful woman per haps she had never looked more beauti ful than she did at that moment her tall form drawn to its full height, her simple white robe and bonnet, her rich, unadorned hair, her pale lip trembled with a smile, the ineffable loveliness of which thrilled to the heart of the man before her, while he winced beneath its deep contempt. She spoke first. "Monsieur Achille, I have come to beg a favor of you but pray sit down." (He obeyed her, and .they seated themselves opposite to each other.) "I have come to ask for money we know how rich you are. Tou must know how affairs stand with us our revenues barely support our rank our expenses are enormous. The sale of all my jewels will not raise sufficient to pay this debt of honor of my husband's but it must be paid, and paid to-mor row. You, who know everything, must know all this ; and to you, as the Tichest man in Paris, I come to request the loan I might almost say, the gift of thirty thousand louts d'or." "Thirty thousand louis, madame ! you ask half what I possess." "Not so, Monsieur Achille; one suc cessful speculation will restore it to you. You will scarcely miss it ; to me, it will blife more than life honor. This, with the sale of my diamonds, will bring vb barely through." Monsieur Achille was silent for some time ; then, then, with a bitter sneer said "Try De Valens and Beaufleur will not these supply you 7" ; "You mock me you know they can not. Oh I Monsieur Achille, have mer cy have mercy !" and the duchess sink- T m fltf- 'D n knees clasped her hands, and fjftt?' kid 'hem on his feet. lew "d 1 - "Tou have had little mercy, madam '"j.C, 0Mhavc iiad little mercy;' and then .there was a pause At last "You love 1nr0 your husband, madam?" "Better than anO"1". -v '"" "as me reply. - nen rise mad- Toot!if OCl" yourscu, and listen to me." That evening, about nine o'clock, Mon- llC be;e7fii? eieur AcLille, dressed with the utmost KMlS a$ elegance, shrouded in a large cloak, un IASSAl'JlTii derwhichhecarried8ma1l but heavy MElC,? Packet ntere1 L cabriolet, and desiring and all Lis confidential valet to attend him, drove 'XL inlnc direction of the Hotel Montifiore. th i'BrooS!Tlie dnva was a long one; and he, pro nator, nd needing at a leisurely pace, had time to nSEB 0 ,reflct uIon and ponder over the events stn me clay, bhe ! whom he had so lov- d the, who had so spurned, so despis- L Ch 'm woman e kd once sued lyins-' dl-fayedto, whose laugh of derision J41'1 in iis cars so long so " on- w0rsWrpd, o respected, whom calum- -e-ff- J r'm readied, who stood in th centre of a profligate court, purer than falling snow she to be his at last bought, bought with a price she, to whom all the nobles of the land had sigh ed in vain, reserved at last for him ! At the corner of the street in which stood the Hotel Montifiore, ha stopped and gave the reins into the hands of his valet. He told him he was going on business to the Duke de Montifiore ; that if the nobleman was from home, he should wait until he returned ; that he expected his carbriolet to be at the same spot in two hours' time, and that, if he was not there to meet it, he wished his servant to take it home, and he would re turn on foot, and on no account to men tion where he had left him, or to give any clue as to the proceedings and des tination of that evening. The valet obeyed these orders to the letter. Monsieur Achille reached the Hotel Montifiore, and pausing at a small side entrance into the court, gave a low whistle. The door was immediately opened by a figure so muffled that in was impossible to distinguish either its sex or age. "With a silent movement it beckon ed him to follow ; they crossed the court, and reached a small and dark apartment they pansed. "I have brought it all, my most lovely duchess. And now " he took ten derly the extended hand of the figure the grasp that met his was of iron. "Is it all gold?" ''All gold," he answered; and this was the last word he ever uttered. Monsieur Achille was missing for two days, and great excitement prevailed in consequence. On the third day, his body was found in the river, some miles from the place where his valet stated he had seen him last. His pockets were rifled, his jewels gone. A ghastly wound in his breast showed how he had died. His servants were all strictly exam ined, when the valet made his statement ; in consequence of which a visit was in stantly paid by the commissioners of the povice to the Hotel Montifiore, the result of which visit was that the valet was ar rested and tried for the murder and rob bery of his master. "Want of evidence led to his acquittal ; but while in confine ment, nothing could exceed the kindness of the duchess towards him, or his lib erality after his release. She, so beauti ful, so beloved, she was still the same as calm, as proud, as apart as ever ! Made to adorn the world, to her that world was nothing over her it had no power Among her intimate friends, she was heard to lament the death of Monsieur Achille, as the means of depriving her husband of a large loan which he was to have received on the night on which the murder was committed, and of which it was supposed Monsieur Achille was robbed while in the act of bringing it to the Hotel Montifiore. She also regret ted having been obliged to part with some of her splendid diamonds in order to raise sufficient to pay her husband's debts of honor. All these debts were paid : and, after a time, those matchless gems again blazed amid the pale gold of her rich hair, and spanned the snowy circle of her arm ; the tresses were like sunlight, the arm like Parian marble, the diamonds with out price. None saw or dreamed of the blood the blood that bound them round that bright head, clasped them on that arm, chained them to each other. Monsieur Achille was soon forgotten The Duke and Duchess de Montifiore lived long and happy lives ; no cloud ev er seemed to shade his gay and open brow, or dim the lustre of her glorious beauty. His debts once paid, no future embarrassments darkened their pros pects. One bright path of unbroken prosperity alone remained for them ; they died as they had lived, honored, re spected, admired, and bequeathed to those around and beneath them the almost sin gular example of great rank, unblemish ed descent, unbounded wealth, united with all perfections of mind, character, and conduct. C3T Every eye loves beauty, and there is no countenance, not blushed or deform ed by guilt, that may not indeed does notbrighten and gladden 6ome devoted soul. CaTThe pungency of pleasure, says "enry "es, is transient as the foam that mantles round it brimming cup. C-Inan old French dictionary, Uh trty is described to be a word of three syllables. The lexicographer dare not say more. A DREAM OF LIFE. I wandered out, one fair summer's eve, to a quiet nook within a secluded dell, through which wound a clear stream that growing larger as it flowed on, finally lost itself within the bosom of a small lake. It was a fairy place, and, oft before, when the muse spirit would steal over me, I had sought its stillness, and had ever found it a delightful place to com mune with self, and upon this eve it ap pears doubly so. The monarch of the day was sinking slowly, gloriously down, gilding gorgeously the western blue casting shadows within the dell dreamy and spectral ; and his lingering rays, set tling upon the stream, made it glow with a soft, dancing light, mirroring the trees and shrubs around, and the sky above, upon its surface. Seating myself upon the ground, soft and luxuriant with nature's carpet, I leaned back on a moss-covered rock, and gazed upon the scenic view until the senses became bewildered, and stream sunk, sky and trees seemed mingled, as it were into a single dark mass. I was asleep ; and sleeping I dreamed. Methought I stood at mid-day by the bank of this same stream. A barque lay moor ed at my feet, seeming to invite my en trance. I placed myself within it, and unheeding the oars that lay upon its bot tom, left it to the motion of the current. At first the scenery seemed tame. No flowers lined the banks no drooping limbs thick hung with bright green leaves bathed themselves in the crystal flood no sunlight danced upon the ripples to form them into diamond bows, nought to tempt one to linger and gaze, awe-wrapped, around to cause the eye to flash with wild delight, or the lips to murmur ecstacy. Twas but a common scene ; and yet with a desire to see what lay be yond, gave it a passing notice. Slowly, pleasantly I glided on ; the view the while gradually becoming more soft and and agreeable to the eye ; now then a buttercup, a violet or lily, peeping above the grass with modest mein to watch an instrument under their domain ; and anon a tree, or shrub, standing at the water's edge, would cast a shadow upon it, and a soft ray of sunshine come stealing down. Brighter grew the picture. The stream perceptably widened, while the flowers that seemed at first afraid to bloom, be came plenteous and gently bent by the passing breeze, dipped their delicate pe tals in the water, and tossed back in the sunshine, sparkled as if just wet with the morning dew. Still the boat sped on, and grander, more enchanting the, scene. Trees and shrubs lined the banks, bear ing the most delicious fruits ; and all things to tempt the palate were presented by an invisible hand. -Foremost amongst all were rich clusters of grape, swelled almost to bursting by the ruby juice. The waters became gradually more turpid the barque rocked from side to side till the brain grew dizzy, and eyes shone with more than common lustre, and tongue broke out in rattling, half-wild enthusiastic speech. I was drunk with delight I was a king and a lord over a thousand domains. I bid the world stand aside and let me pass. I mocked the pious grasped the felon by the hand laughed to scorn the precepts, prayers and entreaties of friends insulted innocence applauded vice, and bid defiance to earth and heaven. Still floated on, and wilder and darker grew the scenery. The water seemed doubly restless, and tossed the boat 'till it fairly quivered more ex cited became the brain, and it throbbed with a dull and heavy pain. I was raving become, as it were, an other being. My raiment, which, when I started, was good, was nought now but rags upon my back. I tore my hair grasped at what I imagined were hideous beings, and met but empty air. I blas phemed, prayed and wept almost at a breath. I was drawn into a whirlpool round and round I flew, and earth, sky, trees and stream followed. I grasped with a nervous shudder the sides of the boat my suffering was terrible in the extreme. I cought at every passing straw, thinking to stop the eternal whirl. I had begun to look upon it as some thing inevitable, and became partially reconciled to the misery, when a new danger burst to view. As if by magic the barque ceased its round, and shot out in a straight line. Before me was the lake ; my blood curdled in my veins, pro ducing a suffocating sensation my eyes burned as if scared with a hot iron,- and seemed bursting from their sockets, with the first gaze. The lake was a sheet of , flame, and wave on wave heaved up like molten lava, and striking together, re coiled with the shock, hissing like a le gion of enraged serpents. I shrieked with very agony,and clutch ed the boat's sides till my finger prints were left upon them : and as it seemed just on the verge of shooting into the swelling flood, with a last desperate strug gle, to avoid the impending fate, that ex hausted every nerve, I awoke. I rubbed my eyes to assure myself 'twas but a dream. The stream was murmur ing gently, sweetly on as before. The sun was far down the western hills, and the fair moon, just emerging above the tree tops. I arose and slowly wended my way home, musing upon the strange fancy weavings of sleep. The import of the dream was plainly visible. The stream was the path of life the barque a trav eler on the way. The first scene was youth, nothing striking, or of thrilling im port in it. As youth bursts into early manhood, the pleasures of the world pre sent themselves. The fruits and delicious viands are luring and debasing pleasures, in which the ruby wine is profusely min gled, that leads the imbiber on, from a single taste to deep and burning draughts that rack the brain, and destroy every no ble impulse, and pure and generous feel ing. The whirlpool is the last stage of degradation into which he falls, that con signs him to the portals of death, and from that to the burning lake beyond. Twas a terrible picture, yet a true one, and I drew a deep and lasting lesson from it. Ichabod. EPIDEMICS. One unvarying character of epidemics is, that they are all fevers. The Black Death of the fourteenth century, an ag gravated form of the Oriental or Bubo plague, was a fever, deriving its name from effusions of black blood forming spots on the arms, face and neck. The Oriental plague, still in existence in Egypt and eastern Europe, and the sweating sickness of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, were both fevers ; and even the cholera of the present day, in the last or perfect stages of its development, is a fever. All the ordinary epidemics, such as typhus, scarlet-fever, measles, and small pox are recognized fever. - Epidemics are generally preceded by two signs. Une is the influenza. Ihe plague, cholera, etc., have all been her alded by this disease. The first attack of cholera in England was preceded by an outbreak of influenza, which resembled in the minutest particular that which ush ered in the mertal sweating sickness of 1517; and the cholera of 1848 waa pre ceded by the influenza of 1847. Epidemics are periodical. The first appearance of the sweating sickness was in 1 485. It spread over England for a year, then disappeared. After a lapse of twenty years it broke out again, went over all its former haunts, and after six months died away. In eleven years it came again, and again died away in six months. A fourth time it returned afier a sleep of eleven years, continued six months, then disappeared. Its fifth and last visitation was after a period of twenty-three years. It raged as it had raged before in six months, as usual, disap- peared and since then this was in 1551 it has never been known in any coun try whatsoever. The Oriental plague breaks out in the east about every ten years; the fever epidemics of London oc cur every ten or twelve years ; the Irish typhus epidemics have been decennial visitations for the last hundred and fifty years. Epidemic cholera remained with us fifteen months, on its first visitation. After sixteen years it broke out again, for exactly fifteen months, as before. Again this time after only five years absence it came for seventeen months ; coming earlier and staying longer than it had done before. According to this rule we nlay expect it again, after even a shorter absence. Epidemics are rapid in their effects. Death generally occurs after a few hours ; seldom, if the disease can be protracted. The great object of all modern treatment for cholera, for instance, is to gain time ; for, if the disease does not kill at once, the patient will oftener recover than die, after a prolonged attack. It is the shock, rather than exhaustion, that destroys. Lastly, epidemics are alike in cause. Overcrowding, filth, exhalations from foul sewers, rivers, ditches, canals, etc., pu trescent or vegetable matter, impure drinking water, unwholesome meat, de cayed vegetables, unsound grain these are some of the predisposing personal causes of epidemics, which, make all those ttvlrifr litftii- tf-l v.n A i t intl mam lit- . 1 ! to. be attacked than those in healthier cir cumstances. But of nil predisposing causes foul air ranks as chief. The con densed air of a crowded room gives a de posit which, if allowed to remain for a few days, forms a solid, thick, glutinous mass, having a strong odor of animal matter. If examined by the microscope it seems to undergo a remarkable change. First of all, it is converted into a vegetable growth, and this is folio wed by the pro ductiou of multitudes of animalcules a decisive proof that it must contain organ ic matter, otherwise it could not nourish organic beings. This was the result ar rived at by Dr. Angus Smith, in his beau tiful experiments on the air and water of towns, wherein he showed how the lungs and skin gave out organic matter, which is in itself a deadly poison, producing headache, sickness, disease, or epidemic, according to its strength Why, if a few drops of the liquid matter, obtained by a condensation of the air of a foul locality, introduced into tlie vein of a dog, can produce death with the usual phenomena fo typhus fever, what incalculable evil must it not produce on those human be ings who breathe it again and again, ren dered fouler and less capable of sustain ing life with each breath drawn ! THE AMERICAN ALADDIN- When we go out on Saturday after noons to moralize and see new houses, we usually take our young ones by Alad din's palace. Aladdin was a Yankee. He started life by swapping jack knives, then putting the halves of broken mar bles together, and passing them off as whole ones. When he had gathered some brass he went to school all the summer, to learn the golden rule of arithmetic addition for himself and subtraction for his neighbor. At an early age AlaaMin was consid ered good at a bargain which meant he could always succeed in changing a worse for a better always keeping the blind side of a horse to the wall when he had to sell it ; and the village said that eer tainly Aladdin would succeed. "When he left, "he will be rich," said the village, with more approval than they would say "he will be generous arid true." To Aladdin the world was but a market in which to buy cheap and sell dear. For him there was no beanty, no history, no piety, no heroism. Vainly the stars shone over him vainly the south wind blew. In the wake of the great ship Argo, in which Jason and his companions sailed for the Golden Fleece, over the gleaming Mediterranean where the ships of Tyre, Rome, and of the Crusaders had been be fore him through the pillars of Her cules, through which Columbus sailed to find fame in a new world now sails Aladdin to and fortune. To him all lands are alike. No Homer sung for him in the JEgean ; he only curses the wind that will not blow him into Odessa. No syrens sing for him, but he loves the huge oath of the lively boatswain. W'ith the Bible in his hand, and a quid of tobacco in his mouth, he goes about the holy places in Jerusalem, and "calculates" their exact site. He sees the land of the Bamases and the Ptolemies ; and the rev erend records of the Lybian desert, w hose echoes have slumbered since they were trampled over by Alexander's army, are now awakened by the shrill whistle of Old Dan Tucker. He insults the Grand Lama, hobnobs with the Grand Mogul, turns his back upon Emperors, and taken a pinch out of the Pope s snuff-box. lie chews with the Arabs, smokes opium with the Turks, and rides for a bribe with the Calmuck Tartars. Aladdin comes home again, and the admiring vil lage points him out to the younger gen erations as a successful man : "My son look at him ; he begun with nothing now see." "My son" does see, and be holds him owning a million of dollars of all societies of which he is not president a director. His numc is as good as gold ; he has bought pictures and statues ; he has also bought a Mrs. Aladdin, and Loused her in luxury; but he picks Lis mouth with a silver fork. He has ahome for a poet ; but he makes it Li boast tLat he reads nothing but his newspaper. lie goes to church twice on Sundays, and only wakes up when the preacher de nounees the sinners of Sodom and Go morrah, and those "tough old Jw" of Jerusalem. His head is bald and shiny with llm sermons which hit and glance off. He clasp his Land iu prayer, but forgets to open thetn Lc-n the poor Lo is passed around ; and he goes Lome like a successful man, thanking God that hi is not as other men are. Afier dinner he sits before the fire in Lis eay chair, light a huge ciar, and looks languidly at Mis. Aladdin !fcroh tLa thiek je. By and by old Aladdin die. Tie con ventional virtues re told over ns the mourning enrria are called out. The papers that they are called upon to de plore the loss of a revered parent, gener ous friend, public-spirited citisen. and pious man ; and the precocious swapper of jack-knives, and the model set tip for the young generation, is laid in the duat. Above his grave thetars he never saw- now burn wiih a soft lustre which no lamps about a king's t.itnb can emulate ; and the south wind, for whose breath upou his brow he was nevrr grateful. strew s his lonely last bod with anemnoes and violets that his heel crushed when living ; and we who are to bo formed on that model, carelessly remark, "So old Aladdin is gone at last ; and, by the wav, how much did he leave?" G. 1'. Curtin. From the Albany Journil. GOT A LIFT. Every Tuesday Cnpt. I wis PiNbury drives down from the Penitentiary, for the purpose of taking up such prisoners as receive " condign" punishment at the Court of Sessious. On these occasions he pulls up his establishment, n large one horse wagon, in front of the City Hall. Capt. P. did this on Tuesday last. He drove down about noon, and hitched his horse to a post, and went into the jail, to "burn a torch" with the Sheriff. Lewis smokes the best Havana, three for a quarter. While he was lighting his ci gar, and taking a memorandum of the priKoncr, an old-fashioned old gent came along with a bundle under his arm. The old-fashioned old gent saw officer Whalen, with whom he entered into conversa tion : 44 Whose wagon is this 'ere ?" "A gentleman's who resides just out of the city." " In w hick-direction ?" " West !" "Wonder if he w-puld not give me a lift, and let me ride as far as the Cherry Valley turnpike? I'm very tired, hav ing tramped over thirteen miles since morning." "Let you ride? of course he will get in and take a back seat." The old gent accepted the invitation and got in. He was just adjusting him self comfortably when Pilsbury returned from the jail. Pilsbury seeing an old man with a bundle in the wagon, and an officer standing by it, came to the conclu sion that the former was " under convic tion," w hile the latter was keeping watch over him. In a moment after this, a po liceman marched out of the City Hall with three " ladies" and seven 44 gentle menconvicts" going up for various terms, from thirty days to six months. The ladies and gentlemen having taken their seats, Capt Lewis jumped in, in troduced a twenty shilling whip to the attention of a $100 hore and started for the Penitentiary. The old gentleman talked with the new co:n-rs in a friendly manner, and thought for a time being that he had got into the most agreeable society that he had met since he left 44 Vannount." At the top of State street the old gen tleman said "hold on." Mr. Pilnbury said "silence." Old gent said, " don't want to go no further." Mr. Pilsbury said " quite likely, but lie must ak him to finith up the ride." Old gent insisted that buiir.ets called him to Clirry Vallfy turnpike. Mr. Pilsbury said he would hate to postpone it to a more auipicious eriK. Old gent persiitted in getting out Mr. P. said if he undertook it he would shoot" him down. . Old gent said such a conduct was out rageous, and wanted to know what be mi-ant? Mr. Pilsbury said he would drop h'uo a line by the next mail and let him know. OU gent said if be tbdu't stop tlie wapon he'd jump out. Mr. Ptlbury ta'.d if he jid he'd chunk him in again. Tle old gentleman undertook to jump but he was caught " in the centre," and made to take his seat in the bottom of the wagon. lo this condition he reae'ied the Penitentiary. "What place is this?4 44 A chair factory jump out anJ take a Lxik." " Chair fa"try ! I wit no chair fc tortes. I tell you again, I'e got buti ues on th Cherry Valley Turr. pike, and can't fool away my time in looking at ratan." j The p!vU-t, Lowever, did no good. The old g-l wa tundkd out He was uiaichi J inio tde r.-etjvir:g rooul, where iS-e t'Mfhei past beb'f. H wat undressed and before he could enter a protest, washed and put into prison dress. He was then registered And sent to tha liop for a job of work. Here his indig natiou broke forth afresh, and was rapidly leading to rebellion, when one of the keepers ptxKed to give him a"show- crmc. Instead ot that lie was locaed in a cell. This finished up the business ou Tufsday evening. On Weduefdny Mr. rilsbury was dow n street, called at tbu Police Office; and entered into conversa tion with Whalen. " Got a queer old customer at the Pen itentiary !" "Who is heF "That ell fellow I took up yester day." "What! the old man with the bundle who ml in the back part of the wagon V " The same. He is the queerest acting prisoner I ever saw." Prisoner! Why ho is no prisoner. He is an old chap that g'it in the wagon for the purpose of riding to the top of Waohington street." " How did he get in the wagon ?" "I told him he might. Didn't he tell you .' " Of course not : I would not give him a chance." The result of this interview may be very easily guesed. Mr. P. discovered that he had made a mistake, and made all speed to rectify it. As soon as he could return to the Penitentiary, he released the old gent and apologised. The old man said, " want no apologies ; man that shaves my head has got to pay for it" Saying this, the old gent seized his bundle, slammed to the hall door, and came into the city. He called at the Po lice Office and made the acquaintance of Counsellor tfriee. Brice heard the story and immedintely commenced a suit for false imprisonment He lays the dama ges at S5000. The old gent resides in Burlington. His name is S. W. Shep pard. ShouL a verdict lie rendered" . against Capt. P., Barney "Whalen should at least 44 go halves." Let ushope tha( he w ill do so. The Belle and the Bear. At a certain evening party, a haughty young beauty turned to a student w ho stood near her, and said : " Cousin John, I understand your ec centric f;'iend L is here. I have a great curiosity to see him. Do bring him here and introduce him to me." The young student went in search of his friend, and at length found him loun ging on a sofa. " Come, L ," said he, " my beauti ful cousin Catherine wishes to be Intro duced to you." " Well, trot her out,' John," drawled with an affected yawn. Jalin returned to his cousin and ad vised her to defer the introduction till a more favorable time, relating the answer be had received. The beauty bit her lips, but the next moment she said, " Well, never mind, I shall insist on being introduced." After some delay, Ij made a pro foundly low bow ; but instead of return -" ing it the raised her eye-glass, surveyed him from head to foot, and then waiing the bank of her Laud toward him, drawleJ out, 44 Triti him off, John ! that's enough !" Asis 4M "iHtm Cows. The can ning ants keep cow in their stables. Al most every ant hill, belonging to one va riety, has a beetle in it, w ho livet, rears a family, aad diet among them, a wel come and konurd companion. When the ant uu et him, they stroke and caress him with their anterune ; in return ha offers iht ni a sweet liquid that ooses out under bis W'ing, and of which the hula toprs nrt: passionately fond. So great is their attachment to the old confectioner, that they seic him in times of danger, and carry him off to a place of safety ; the conquerors of an invaded nation spare the sweet beetle, and, what is per hsps nure surprising, his mapgot and his chrysalis, though themlra utterly use lets, are as safe atoip their wie Let as if they also poeje4 tb luscious bocey, Otlwr ants aain keep eouutless aphides, thai sit on the tender green leaves of juK-y plants, as on green meadows, and sotk awsy so lustily that their delicat litUa buute swell like tle udders of cow on rich r.ng pastures. At that season the aut have to feed their young with myre delicate fool thaa their own ; they stroke and caress their tiay nilah cows, gather the nutritious liquid that pours forth under tleir sagacious treatment, hoi carry it, drop by drop, to their norseriaa. JT If we oae the loe of otb-rs, t?!ut kne them 14001 ,A Fa'?," ? J! I x