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Ml FANCY'S QCGKH.
., will not say it sho be dark or fair, Or it lier eyes ba hazel, black or blue I will not dwell upon her weallh of hair, Or oa its silken glossiness or hue. I know not il to other men she seem The sweetest woman earth has ever seen, The incarnation of a poet's dream— But this I know she is my Fancy's Queen. Be thou forever lilest, propitious day, When first I saw her, robed in creamy white. I sought to speak to her—the would not stay, But like a startled wood-bird took to flight. The fairies knew her as she swiftly stept Along their forest pathway arched with green, And from the flower-fastnesses out crept, To weave new love-spells for my Fancy's Queen. I followed hard at heel—she knew it not, _Pot never once she turned herlovely face Nor paused, but onward sped towards the spot Whereon were housed her innocence and grace. I rested not until I learned her name. And wooed her—aye,and made her mine, I ween! And now she is a gravo and stately dame But nonetheless is she my Fancy's Queen. Win. Beatty-Kingston in the Theatre. 1 jk A CRITICAL MAID. ft? im Lore Conqnerod Constitutions! History. I The lecture was just over. We four girls, the lectured, were standing, note books in hand, in a little group in the corridor, talking in subdued tones, consulting one point in the room and gravely as down about silent face to open the door for us and to -bow us out. Oh, poor young man, he is shy!—shy and young The girls were frowning at me. Claudia was touching ray elbow, with mysterious meaning, on one side Nell pulling my sleeve imperatively on the other. Lottie formed her lips into a silent "hush." "Shy and young—very young!— what is the matter?" I said. Nobody answered me. No answer, indeed, was needed. At that moment our lecturer passed us again and went back into the lecture-room. He had come up the stairs behind me he must have heard ine. He seemed to glance my way as he passed. There seemed to be a twinkle in his gray-blue eyes. The girls moved slowly away but I turned precipitately and fled. Past the lecture-room door, alonp the corridor, upstairs I fled to my own little room (study, bed chamber and reception-room) near the sky. I meant to work and took my Stubbs and turned over its leaves, and found my place hurriedly, with an unusual energy. But work would not drive away the remembrance of my unlucky speeches, the sentences bore no meaning to me I could not fix my early ed him sash attention on the history of Germanic institutions. I shut up my Stubbs in despair the girls were playing tennis in the courts be low. I seized my racket and ran swiftly down to join them. Tennis would make me forget. But if my thoughts were distracted for an hour or two they attacked me again when the game was over. 1 stood before my glass and changed my dress for dinner and grew rosy red as the remembrance of my words came back. he I had said that he had blushed because that he in the I spoke him—I had said was shy—I had implied that was shy of me because I was a girl. 1 should never dare to speak to him or look at him again! I had called him copper-colored—-at spared him "WH another on a knotty history of The lecturer came grand jury. out of the lecture- passed us. He bowed he passed, and went hastily the stairs, his college cap in his hpnd, his long gown falling limply his tall, thin figure. We were until he was out of sight then oar tongues were loosened, and we no longer spoke in subdued tones. "Poor feelingly. "He young man!" said Lottie is grave "That," as a judge," said Nell. said Claudia weightily, "is nervousness. of us." But He is nervous,—nervous it was I who had most to say. I leant against the balusters, with my towards the open door of the lecture-room, benefit young him and gave the girls the of all my observations. "Yes, he is nervous," I said. "Poor man, he is shy! When I asked if. the grand jury still existed he blushed, ed girls—oh, he is copper-color tostart with, I know, but he blush ed through the copper-color—" "For your ignorance, perhaps," sug gested Claudia. "He not is very shy," said I. "He is used, I expect, to teaching girls. He cannot forget that we are girls. He waited—did you notice?—until we had left thoroom the other lecturers stalk out before us. I think he want ed least I might have that reproach. I looked glass at my own little face it was brown ture in as a berry—brown by na the first place and made more brown by the summer sun and the breeze from sjes were I was the sea at home. His blue and his hair was fair. altogether brown—hair,! eyes, skin, all brown alike. And I had call copper-colored!—I had called him young!—what him? I tightly with my thoughts who had else had I called brushed back my brown hair and severely, tied my soft silk a ner with jerk and ran down to din a rush, hoping to escape from again. Perhaps, bell's I taught after all, I thought, trying to comfort bm. myself, he had not heard My voice, alas! was clear as a was an only girl in a family of boys—a spoilt girl who had never been to eftceof oe meek and silent in the pres- her brothers—a talkative girl learnt to make herself heard in any Babel voices. But of louder and gruffer perhaps he had been thinking—notlistening—meditatingon the Mark system, trial by jury, or the* disruptive tendency of feudal govern ment. But no, have heard said the girls, nemust there was no doubt what- fnr that he had heard me. The girls were as happy as usual. They could contemplate the situation tranquilly it amusement even afforded them they found something humorous in my discomfiture. It was I, not they, whom he had over heard. We sat in a half circle on the floor before the fire that night, in our pret the little tin kettle singing on the hob, the blue and white china the cocoa, the sweet biscuits were all mine. We four friends gave cocoa parties in turn. To-morrow Claudia would pro vide the feast. Yesterday Null had been hostess. Cocoa was the chief dissipation of our college. We cave "cocoas" as our brothers gave "wines" —it was a drink easily "made, inex pensive, nutritious. W sat round the fire on the floor, talking and laughing, holding our tetu cups and stirring our cocoa slowly and absent-mindedly as we talked. My guests were merry, but I to-night was unsually silent and depressed. "After all," said Claudia sensibly, trying to comfort me—"after all, what did you say, Cis? Nothing—nothing at all events that mattered. You said he was young well, that is true. How old, girls, do you imagine he is?" "Twenty-five," said Lottie. "Twenty-four," said Nell. "Very young," said Claudia, conclu sively. "Then you called him shy—well he is shy. You said he blushed—well, he does blush." "That is just it," I groaned. "It is all so true." "He will think you observant," said Nelly, nibbling the sugar from her bis cuit with slow epicurean enjoyment. "He will think, at all events, that you aie interested in him," said Lot tie cheerfully. "In him—a man!" I groaned, for a girl who has tyrannized over eight ad miring brothers and been treated all her life with deference by fond father and uncles has an ungrateful scorn for men. I had had no meek mother and aunts and sisters to teach me humili ty as a becoming womanly virtue. "Poor Cis—poor Cicely!" said the girls sympathetically. "And Satur day is coming and you will be forced to see him. You poor, poor Cicely!" Yes, Saturday was coming. On Wednesday and Thursday and Fri day I went about with a constant consciousness of Saturday's inevitable advance. Our lecturer had stated that on Saturday afternoon he would be pleased to go through our papers with us, to discuss points of interest, ex plain difficulties, and remove possible misconceptions. We were to go to him singly. I was to go alone to the man who, I had said, was shy of me and thought of me as a girl and could not forget that I was a girl, whom I had said blushed. The thought was terrible. Saturday came. The girls were cheerful. "Go first,Cis," they said—"go first and get it over." "Yes, I will go first," I said. But when he came I faltered and put off the evil moment, and Claudia, Nell and Lottie all went in before me. "He is not shy to-day," reported Nell on her return. "I think, Cis, that perhaps we were mistaken about him. Or, perhaps, he was under the impres sion that we were learned giris after our papers and our chatter he knows us better and thinks very little of us. He is solemn—horribly solemn! And no old man could be severer. Oh he is quite at his ease." Nell had reported truly. He was quite at his ease. He was sitting wait ing at a table which had pens and ink and papers on it there was no expec tancy in his attitude he seemed a lit tle bored, indeed he sat with his back towards the door, one elbow on the table, his hand propping his chin. He rose when he heard me, and looked at me calmly enough as he shook hands. "Miss Chrystai?" he said. "Yes," I said, meekly. He touched a chair that stood be side his at the table, and I sat down with a feeling of obedience. His face was grave, his manner, as Nell had said, severe I wondered how I could have thought him nervous he looked as though he had never blushed he seemed quite unaffected by the con sciousness that his pupil was a girl. He seated himself beside me, and drew a corrected exercise towards him. "This I think, is your paper, Miss Crystal?" "Yes," I said in a small voice—"I—I think so, Mr. Tudor." He was turning the pages slowly and gravely. I sat looking down at my hands folded meekly on the table and did not see his face. "Your first answer is—is inade quate." "The first part of Stubbs is—is very difficult," I said, venturing to look up. Tl.-ere was a strange quick little twinkle for a moment in his eyes as he gianced at me but his lips did not smile. "In the next question," he said slpwly, "you confuse—or seem to con fuse—two things, the constitutions and the Assize of Clarendon—a slip, perhaps?" He was looking steadily and calmly at me, waiting. For the first time in my life I felt small and young and meek. I forgot that I was 19 and no longer a schoolgirl. I was overwhelm ed with a sense of my own ignorance. "No—it was not a slip," I said. "Con stitutional history is quite—quite new to me." "So I had gathered from your pa per," he said quietly. His very gravity and quietness seemed like bitterest satire. He said he did not grasp my theory here—did not follow my argument there. And I had had no theory—I could not follow my own argument. He grew more grave and quiet and slow. The lump my throat grew larger every mo ment. If I had been brought up in a family of g'rls I should have burst into tears before him. I sat still and looked at my own brown fingers clasping one another and answered briefly At last he pushed back his chair a little and gave me my paper, folded. "You will have to rtad very steadily, Miss Chrystai." "Yes," I said, in a small voice. "For some months." "Yes," I said again. "The rest of the class are far ahead of you." "Yes—yes—I know," I said. He seemed to have nothing more wholesomely humiliating to say to me, and I understood that the inter view might end, and rose to go. He rose, too, immediately. Most of our lecturers nodded at ua and sat still. Mr. Tudor conceded something to my girlhood. He stood when I stood, and remained standing as he continu ed to speak to me. He threw out a crumb of praise. "Your style is cleat," he said. "When you deal with subjects within your grasp—when you do not get out of your depth—your style is clear de cidedly. Not an altogether historical style, but lucid." I felt that, on the whole, his blame had been lees humiliating than this his praise. He held open the door for me and shook bands gravely with a quiet smile. ,rr "Good afternoon," he said. "Good afternoon," I replied, and I fled. The girls had invaded my study and were lazily stretched on my bed and window-seat and rug waiting for me. "Well?" they said. I sat down beside Claudia on the hearthrug and tore my corrected pa per into small atoms and burnt them. "1 hate him," I said, poking tho lire vigorously and pushing the smoulder ing paper into the flames—"I hate him! He thinks me conceited! He thinks me horrid! He tries to be sa tirical because he thinks me puffedup. He laughs at me—I saw it in his eyes —more than once—always—every time I looked at him. I said he blush ed—I said he thought of me as a girl— I said he blushed because I spoke to him. And he despises me! And he will never, never forget." And there I forgot that I belonged to a family of boys where no one ever wept, and burst into sudden tears and Claudia, Nell and Lottie fell to comforting me. II. As the weeks went on I grew more and more convinced that I hated and always should hate Mr. Tudor—that he thoughtmeyoung, ignorant, stupid, flippant, spoilt and conceited that he despised my intellect, remembered my foolish speeches, and always would remember them. His eyes had a way of twinkling when he looked at me and looked away again all the perplexing questions seemed to fall to me, and his lips twitched when I spoke of gav elkind as a custom duty," and found Wolsey guilty under the Statute of Purveyance. He seemed to enjoy my blunders the worst mistakes of Clau dia, Nell and Lottie never provoked in him even a temptation to smile. But the bad half-hour in my week was on Saturday afternoons when I went alone to him, and sat by his side whilst he spread out that week's his tory paper of mine before him and commented on its faults and required an explanation of its ambiguities, and waitea patiently with most courteous attention for my answers. Now and then, glancing up at him quickly, I caught agleam of laughter deep down in his eyes. Yet when he spoke his voice was slow and grave and weighty. It was Saturday afternoon in the middle of the term. I sat beside him at the table, listening meekly to his criticisms. "You miss the point here, Miss Chrys tai." "Yes, Mr. Tudor." "And here you speak of impeach ment as though it was procedure by bill." "Yes, Mr. Tudor." "That is a somewhat grave mis take." I could not acquiesce again. And the monosyllibic "yes" was the only form of answer that came to me. "And here. I think, you were requir ed to discuss the constitutional im portance of these events?" "Yes, Mr. Tudor." "You have not done so, Miss Chrys tai." "No—I am afraid—I am afraid not." "You mistook the question, pos sibly?" He was looking gravely at me, wait ing. My spoken answer like my writ ten answer, was not very much to the point. I spoke desperately. "What is the good of it all?" I said. "What does it matter about the judi cial system, and who has the control of taxation? What does it matter about the Parliament,and the courts, and all the dull old laws? One can't really care for the Constitution." I had time while he sat surveying me to feel ashamed of my babyish, passionate speech. "What made you think of devoting yourself to the study of constitution al history?" he said, with gentle sur prise. His gentleness seemed like sat ire. My eyes, in spite of myself, filled with tears. Suddenly he looked away from me. He asked me no more ques tions. For the next five minutes he talked rapidly, without a pause. When I resolutely blinked back my tears and glanced at him, he was dili gently disfiguring my history paper with crooked circles, and his face was less brown than ruddy. After that day his eyes ceased to twinkle when he looked at me he passed me over in class and put the puzzling questionsto Nell and Claudia, and was almost gentle when I went alone to him. He gave up asking me to expound this theory and that argu ment which he had failed to follow and when he was forced to condsmn my work, he worded his blame mildly and looked away as he spoke. "He has forgiven you, Cis," said the girls. "He completely ignores you now —for which you are thankful, Cis, are you not?" "Very thankful," I said. I said it impressively, for I needed to convince myself as well as the girls. I was inconsistent, for I be gan to wish that he would find me amusing again, and to feel pangs of disappointment in class when he passed me over, and to desire, with quite unreasonable eagerness, that he should look at me again, even if his eyes would have laughter in their depths. But every week the laughter seemed further away. And if he were grave in class, he was graver still on Satur days. He gazed steadily at my pa per as he discussed it, and discussed it as though in a dream. He no long er thought me flippant, and conceited and foolish, aud tried to cure me. He no longer thought of me at all. It was only at the end of the term that he set aside his perfunctory tu tor manner. "Are you going home, Miss Crystal?" he asked me hesitatingly. "Yes. Not at once though. For a week or two I am going to stay with Claudia—Miss Harrison, I mean. Then she will come home with me." "I may be spending my holidays near you. Perhaps—possibly—we may meet each other." "Oh yes, very possibly," I said. And suddenly I felt light-hearted at the thought of holidays. There was a little pause, and I arose and held out my hand. "It is somewhere in Devonshire, is it not?" hesaid. "What?" "Your home." "Yes. Axetown East. Quite a lit tle place on the coast. Have you friends there, Mr. Tudor?" "No," he said doubttully. "I be lieve—I believe the fishing is good?" And it did not strike me as strange that he should be going to a place which he had no friends, and of which he did not know the name and county. But I did not tell the girls what he had told me. It was only at the end of my visit to Claudia that I broke the news to her. I broke it casually. v* '19 ip^ pwpfi_ "He came for the fishing," I said. "And father and the boys seem—ac cidentally—to have come across him." "Never mind," said Claudia. "No, it does not matter." Isaid re signedly. But Claudia was sympathetic next day when we arrived at Axetown East. In a short fortnight Mr. Tudor had hi ado great strides toward friendship with all at home. lie had found fii vor with father and the boys his hotel was comfortless, and he de serted it frequently. He came and went at all hours, laughed and smoked with the boys and talked sensibly like an old friend with father. He was more bronzed than ever for a fort night he had been fishing and rowing and walking with energy. He laughed as I had sometimes suspected hecould laugh. He had left his tutor manners behind him with cap and gown. Sud denly now, at the end of a fortnight, he had grown tired of fishing and of lonely boating and walking. He haunt ed our house. He seemed to be al ways where I was. Claudia was gym pathetic. And, somehow, I felt trai torous when I received her sym pathy. It was a still, warm Summer even ing a day or two after our ar rival. We were in the drawing-room down-stairs the French windows were open wide. Father was showing Mr. Tudor some views of places abroad where he had been stationed at differ ent times. Suddenly, on the still air, came a voice from the garden. Claudia was coming up the path with my brother George. "And that is the story," she said. "It dosen't seem quite a modest thing to say a man blushes when you speak to him. Poor Cis! she has never been happy in his presence since. He will spoil her holidays. We try to praise him sometimes, "but as for Cis, she will never say anything good of him. She really dislikes him now." "That's a pity," said George, "for Tudor—poor beggar—is in love with her." I do not think father had heard he was engrossed in photographs of China. I did not venture to look at Mr. Tudor. I do not think that he looked at m6. But an anecdote which father was relating was new to us when he told it again next day. It was an hour or two later that we found ourselves alone together But George's words were ringing in my brain still. It seemed natural, now that we were alone, that he should go back at once straight to those words. 'It :s true," he said gently. "I did not mean to tell you yet. I meant to try to win your lev. first." I did not speak. He was standing near me by the open window, and he took my hand and let it rest in his. "Do I spoil your holidays?" he ask ed gravely. "Are you unhappy, as your friend says, because I am here?" 1 hesitated lor a moment. "I do not think that Claudia knows'" I an swered. "Cicely, I am very bold," he said eagerly—"very bold to speak to you now so soon. If I make you unhappy I will go. If I have no chance—no chance at all—tell me, Cicely, and send me away." But I said nothing. "Send me away now," he said plead ingly. I looked up at him. I could think of no proper answer. "I do not want to send you away," I said. fifted THE NOVEMBER "BELOKAVIA.' Initiating the Brethren. From the Buffalo Courier. At a recent party in an up town residence the damsels insisted on be ing permitted to show their brethren something new. They had founded a new order, it was explained, and wished to initiate the boys into its mysteries. They took possession of the front parlor and closed the fold ing doors, leaving one of their number on guard. The gentlemen found one of their crowd—a beardless youth had disappeared, and wondered what had become of him. They learned to their sorrow. The lodge being in readiness for the reception of candi dates, one of the young men was escorted into the room, He found four blushing maidens standing in a row in the corner of the room with a tete in front of them. Upon this he was seated and blindfolded, and then told that one of the girls would kiss him. If he could guess her name he would be privileged to repeat the os culation. Of course, he madea miser able failure, but, instead of being al lowed to retire, was compelled to occu py a seat on the opposite side of the room. Just imagine his feelings when the next victim was led in and had been prepared for the sacrifice to see the missing beardless youth rise up ghostlike from behind the girls, im- rint a good sound smack on the up and expectant lips of the candi date, and then dodge back to his place of concealment. One after an other of the young men were victim ized. The fun of it was, though, to hear some of them demand more than one trial before the removal of the hoodwinks—one, a well-known physician, not being content with less than three kisses. He was enthusiastic over their sweetness, until the sweet was turned to gall, as he saw the boy salute his successor on the throne of mystery. Carlyle at Newgate. Nobody ever suspected Carlyle ol having any false sentiment about criminals, but the frank, outspoken disgust of this passage in one of his early letters and the little touch of Scotch self-complacency make it note worthy. "1 went to see Newgate. Oh the male felons! the 200 polluted wretches, through whose stalls and yards I was carried! Tnere they were of all climates and kinds, the Jew, the Turk, the Christian from the gray villain of 60 to the blackguard boy of 8. Nor was it their depravity that struck me so much as their debase ment. Most of them actually looked like animals you could see no traces, of a soul (not even of a bad one) in their gloating, callous, sensual counte nances they had never thought at all, they had only eaten and drank and made merry. I have seen as wicked people in the North but it was another and far less abominable sorb of wicked ness. A Scotch blackguard is very gener ally a thinking,reasoning person,some theory and principle of life, a santani cal philosophy, beams from every fea ture of his rugged, scowling counte nance. Not so here. The sharpness of these people was the cunning of a fox, their stubborness was the sullen gloom of a mastiff. Newgate holds, I believe, within its walls more human baseness than any other spot in the creation," a- ,l v-T HONE W1U. HISS TUBE. Few will miss theo, friend, when thou For a month in dust hath lain. Skillful hand, and anxious brow, Tongue of wisdom, busy brain All thou wert shall be forgot, And thy place ahull know thee not. Shadows from the bending trees O'er thy lowly head may pass, Sighs from every wandering breeze Stir the long, thick churchyard grass. Wilt thou heed them? No thy sleep Shall bo dreamlea-, calm, and deep. Some sweet bird may sit and sing On the marble of thy tomb, Soon to flit on joyous wing From that place of death and gloom, On some bough to warble clear But these songs thou shalt not hear. Some kind voice may sing thy praise. Passing near thy place of reBt, Fondly talk of other days But no throb within thy breast Shall respond to words of praise, Or old thoughts of other days. Since so fleeting is thy name, Talent, beauty, power and wit, It were well that without shame Thou in God's great book wert wrib, There in golden words to bo Graven for eternity. Chambers' Journal. GRANDPA'S STORY Tho American Ilural Home. "What's a ruminating animal, grandpa?" said Earl, looking up from his paper as he turned afresh page. "An herbiferous animal which swal lows its food without mastication and afterwards by a muscular action throws it back into tjie mouth, where it is ground and again swallowed or in other words,an animal which chews the cud." Big brother Fred, sitting just across the lamp-lighted table, reached over and playfully pulled his little sister's bangs, saying with mock solemnity: "Behold an example! I am most glad, grandpa, that you explained it to us,for we now know that our sister Cora is a ruminating animal." Cora was industriously chewing gum, but paused long enough in the opera tion to flash back a reply to her brother. "Thank you. I am not an animal!" she said. "So?" exclaimed Fred, "pray tell us then what class of vegetables you rep resent? or do you claim to be a min eral? a precious stone perhaps there being only three kingdoms into which the matters of our globe is divided, you must of necessity belong to one of them." The little girl was visibly puzzled, tor she was only eleven years old and had not gone deep enough in the sciences to explain her brother's words in answer to her look of ap peal, grandpa only pmiled and gave her a little wink of his merry eye, which said as plainly as if he had spoken audibly, "never mind, I will explain it all to you some time," which mute reply satisfied the little girl quite as well as if he had spoken the words for grand pa was the children's oracle, and, al though he had long ago ceased to take any active part in the busy work-a-day life of the family, yet he was a very useful member of it. Earl, quite oblivious of what was passing on around him, read on the click of Cora's pencil was the only sound for some minutes, in the pleas ant sitting-room, when Fred left his seat at the table and sauntered to the window overlooking the streets, pulled aside the shade and looked out soon he turned and took down his cap and muffler from the rack. Grandpa seemed to have fallen into a reverie, but roused himself and said: "Earl's question brings to my mind an incident of long ago, when the fact that the cow is a ruminating animal saved me tne loss of almost eight hun dred dollars." "Oh, do tell us about it!" exclaim ed Cora, pushing away her slate. "Have you much to read, Earl?" asked grandpa. "Only about a dozen lines." "Well, Cora, you may shake down the fire, and if Fred will get us a pan of apples to keep your mouths busy, so I shall not be interrupted, you shall have the story." The big brother liked grand pa's stories quite as well as the younger children, and he hesitated only an instant before he restored his cap to its accustomed peg, and taking a light, went whistling into the cellar while the thought dancing un der grandpa's gray locks was: "we will try to make home more attractive to-night that the streets." "When I was first married," he be gan, after they were all settled in their favorite places, and provided with juicy apples, "I owned a store in Fayetteville a brick block now cov ers the site of the building, but it was then only a plain story and a half wooden structure with living rooms above and a heterogeneous stock of groceries, dry goods, boots and shoes, and produce below. "I do not suppose we took in, in one week, with all of our branches of trade, as much as one of the groceries down town does in a day still it was considered then quite a thriving busi ness, and when, on account of failing health, we concluded to sell, and get my weak lungs and two strong boys on to a farm, we found a purahaser readily and sold at what I considered a good price, although we had to wait for some years for most of the money. "With the cash which was paid down we came out into this county and bought the Belgeuin farm, includ ing your Uncle Ben's one hundred and sixty, then all raw prairie, for seven dollars per acre." "Whew!" whistled Fred, Belgeuin for seven dollars! I should like to buy land as good as that at such a price." "Plenty of land at even lower figures out West, and just as good,too which will not take half the time to grow to an equal value that it has taken tbe old farm but you must remember it was entirely without improvements then, not even afoot tff it broken or a fence post set up. "Your father was ten and his broth N er was twelve years of Eave age, and we all had to work, early and late sometimes, to make things count a dollar was worth a great deal more then than it is now, and the loss of even one of them was a real misfortune but then we were all poor folks through the neighbor hood, just starting out, so did not mind. "We had been four years on the farm, and were beginning to get things a little under control, when the last payment on the old store fell due the note was drawn at ten hundred dol lars, and as we lacked just that amount of having the farm paid for, we were all making great calculations on it the boys, especially, were very anxious to get the last cent of incumbrance off, as they had been promised a year of schooling, each in W as soon as we were out of debt. "I remember well the day I received that draft. It was a bright spring day, and I was in W—, buying a few new farming implements, to begin Spring's work with. I was a little disappointed on open ing it to see that it did not call for the whole amount due, but Mr. Mason, our debtor, wrote in the letter accom panying it, that he could not possibly raise but seven hundred and eighty dollars, and begged that I would wait a few months and he would have the balance ready. "After some hesitation I decided to get it cashed before I went home and surprise the boys, as it was a little ahead of time. The thought of having it in the house over night was not so pleasant, but as Mr. Williams, my creditor, lived only five miles over the creek, it would take only a couple of hours in the morning to go to his place to pay it out without any delay accordingly, just before start ing for home, I drove round to the bank, presented my draft and received the money it was in quite small bills for so large an amount, and each one hundred dollars was done up in a separate package, with a slip of paper pinned around it, as is usual the odd eighty was in bills ranging from five to twenty dollars and was simply piled together and folded. "In those days the receptacles for money oftenest seen were long leath ern books, fitted with large and small pockets to hold the shin-plasters, as the small bills between ten and fifty cents were called,and with long straps to hind around them, and keep all secure, my pocket book was such an one, and you may be sure I stowed the precious packages safely away the eighty dollars I put in a pocket by itself, andpressed it down carefully,as it was loose. "How we did revel that night in the glad prospect of so soon being re leased from our long-borne load of debt the boys made a great ma.ny plans about their year in W which meant so much to them, and bright and early in the morning started me off for neighbor Williams' with my pocket book safely (as I thought) stowed away in my inside coat pock et. "The ride was very enjoyable in the clear, bracing spring air, as you may suppose, under such circumstances, but I was very much disappointed on reaching my destination to find that my man was away from home his wife told me he had gone some few miles up the creek with his two men and a drove of sheep to wash. "There was nothing to be done but to follow him up, and I was about starting on, when, on slipping my hand into my pocket, to my conster naton I found it empty, and when a thorough search in and around the buggy in which I rode did not reveal the pocket book, 1 was fairly faint at thought of the loss. "How it could get away from me was at first a puzzle, for that it was safe when I started from home was certain, as that was the last thing I had looked to before starting out but after going the whole distance over in my "mind, I remembered hav ing stopped once to fix some part of the harness, and in an instant I knew there was where I had met with my loss. "It took but a moment to make some explanation to the women folks who had helped in the search, and then I hurried away again. It was just in front of the Leigh farm on the other side of the creek, that I had stopped the place was then owned by a Mr. Grant Uncle Phin we used to call him he was a queer old gentle man, not given to many words, but those he did speak were apt to tell. "As I came up leading the horse, and looking carefully along the road, Uncle Phin accosted me with a gruff good morning, from over his garden fence, where ho was busy putting in the early vegetables, but he did not ause in his work, although he must been watching me out of the of corner his eyes, for presently he said: 'Lost suthin'?' "I made explanation and asked if he had seen anything of a book the de scription of mine on the road that morning. 'No, ain't been on the road this morning,' he replied, without looking up, and still hoeing industriously I thought he was paying no more atten tion, but when he had finished his row, he stood the hoe up against the fence and climbed over. 'Much in't?' he questioned. "After some hesitation I told him the amount of our loss and explained to him the circumstances, which brought from him only the single la conic exclamation: 'Bad!' After a pause, he added: 'Git in,' beginning to climb into the buggy, 'and you'd best look one side and I'll take t'other. "We rode along in silence for about a hundred yards when the old man pointed ahead, saying: 'There 'tis.' "You may be sure it did not take me long to get out of that buggy, and there right in the wheel track lay the unfortunate book. I turned with joy to shake Uncle Phin's hand, when he arrested me by saying: 'Look to your money.' "Then, for the first time, I saw that the binding strap was loose, and the book open. With trembling fingers I sought inside for the packages of money, but to iny dismay they were gone, there was nothing left inside but some papers, and in one of the small pockets the eighty dollars snugly tucked down just as it had been put away. "I was quite in despair, for there seemed to me no other way for it than to lay the disappearance of the six packages to some one who had found it previously and concluded that they needed them more than the owner, but when I expressed the suspicion to Uncle Phin, he only said: 'Mighty big fool to leave eighty good dollars "For full five ..IJSLJ** minutes I stood there, fPWV #*£pprijp 1oosened lace f1 trying to plan to myself how I should go back to the dear ones at home with the story of disappointment and loss. "My companion seemed to be lost in meditation lifting his tanned face up into the sunshine and waving his hand through the still air, he said: "Taint blowed away!' "Finally he reached for the empty book at which I was still staring blankly, and looked it carefully over. 'See any critter on the road this morning?' he asked. "At first I said no, but on sec ond thought remembered passing a half dozen yearling calves belonging to one of our neighbors, as I came from Mr. Williams'. 'Guess we'd better hunt them up,' said uncle Phin. "I could not see what possible good to me there would be in finding the calves but any delay in the dreaded home going was welcome, so I climbed into the buggy with him. "We found the herd down by the bridge, quietly feeding. "Uncle Phin got out and went among them passing from one to the other, he slapped them, pushed them, punched their pody stomachs, and finally made a careful examination of their mouths this last gave me a ink ling to his thoughts. After going over the six with the same maneuvers, he laid his hand on a plump little heifer and said: 'There's your tlieif.' 'You don't think it possible that she has swallowed the money?' I in terrogated, not a whit comforted with the thought. 'Looks like it," he replied. 'Well, what can we do about it?' I asked, disconsolately. 'Best take her up to my barn and cut her open she ain't chewed it yet.' "I thought, at first, that it would be better to get the consent of the owner, for, indeed, I had very little faith that the search would be reward ed with any success, but the old man seemed confident and would not hear oi any delay. "With some difficulty we separated the poor creature from the rest and drove her away. By this time he had been joined by another neighbor, who assisted to take her life. It seemed to me a pity to sacrifice so fine an ani mal, so foolishly, for I had no doubt that I should have the additional loss of paying for her out of the eighty dol lars remaining. "We did not stop to removft hex coat, but made at once for the object of our search opening the first stom ach, according to Uncle Phin's direc tions, we examined the contents, and there, among numerous balls of fresh ly cropped grass, we found the pack ages of money, every one of them, pins, paper and all six of them were in no wise the worse for their unusual jour ney and after they were opened and dried were restored to their propel the seventh package had become and some of the bills were considerably torn, but after picking each one carefully out and dryingthem all in the sun, there was one oft wenty dollars which was not plainly recog nizable. "So you see the habit of a ruminat ing animal to swallow its .'ood with out chewing, saved me what in those days was a large sum of money," con cluded grandpa. "Well, 1 should think that was an unusual and rather expensive diet fox a calf," said Fred. "How in the world did that old uncle know so well, grandpa?"a3ked Earl. "Well, he was very chary of explana tion, when I asked him the same ques tion," said geandpa, "and only "said in reply that it did not require a great deal of wisdom to conclude where the money had gone to when he saw apart ot the bills in the calf's mouth." "And what became of the poor little cow?" asked Cora. "Oh, we dressed her nicely and cut the carcass into pieces, which I gave to two or three poor families in the neigh borhood, as a sort of thank offering." Two Anecdotes of Grant An officer who served on Grant's stall during the war said to the Traveller's correspondent recently: "The first time I ever saw Grant was when he came to take command of the army. 'This was at Brandy wine station. We had been accustomed to see McClellan, Halleck, Burnside and the other gen erals go about from brigade to bri gade, and division to division, attend ed by a cloud of gorgeously uniformed staff officers, and, of course, we expect ed that Grant's arrival would have a great deal of show in it. We were awaiting his arrival, knowing that ht was on his way, when a frieght train rolled in. There was a caboose on the end, and out iumped two men. One of them was a short, stumpy man, with a full brown beard. He wore a black slouch hat, tipped down on hie eyes. As he picked his way over the railroad tracks to the station a sol dier who had been at Fort Donelsor shouted: 'Here's Grant, boys.' On the platform was Gen. Ingalls,thecom missary general of the army, and who was one of Grant's classmate. He recogm zed his old comrades, and they shook hands for a moment. Then In galls invited his commander to take a seat in a four-in-hand which was wait ing. It was raining, but Grant stood a while and looked over the turnout then he got inside and drove to head quarters. Gen. Ingalls had provided a most magnificent dinner for the commander. Grant sat and ate hearti ly, and after he had finished he turned and inquired 'Ingalls, where did you get all the stuff?' The com missary general replied with some pride that he had had it brought down from Washington expressly for the event. Then Grant wanted to know if the sol diers were in the habit of getting a lay out likethat. Upon being answered in the negative,Grant said: 'Ingalls,! have been in the habit of eating a soldier's rations. What's good enough for them is good enough for me'. Ingalls didn't neglect to take the hint, and there were no more gorgeous banquets after that in the headquarters of the army of the Potomac. After this episode Grant smoked, and finally said: 'One more question, Ingalls. "Where did you get that four-in-hand?' 'It has been at tached to the headquarters for the use of the commanding general for a long time, sir,' was the response. Grant never changed his expression as he re plied: 'I don't want it here, Rufus the next time we need it it will be used in the field as an ambulance'—and it was."—Washington Letter to lbeBo» ton Traveller. ,:esi -is