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IX AX HOUR. BT XOHA riRHT. I. .... ASTicirATiow. 'I'LL take th orchard tth," hil, Niikin(t lowly, miiinic riowly: Th lirook WM dni-i within iu tied, ThhiHuo flung 11 ww ol ml Low in the Wrisl, m lurid elie led. Acnww the ilrird lmok-aw he went, Sinrinc luwiv. Miii'in? cl'iwiy: Mm- knurra-iv mw ln- nun that i-nnt Iff fi.-rv Mi win wilt iliwnl Hie nev'rr fw tlie whf-at w.is btnt, Th' urn pirrhrtl. t!if l!ns mi liii"l: s-miririr i-w;y, ni!in? b mviy, .-r - itnti'lrti llif ilrmi h fti;i-.l A .iiimii'-r picMP .nr iBr i n 1 i-:,, Wiih rwet-k aud in i viitt- (ukI. II. I)lAPPOI!Tlr.VT. Hut li'imowrifl c. iininc all the wiy, : irl. i ii sr b.w-.y. pacinif i-li ly, Slii kmi-w tin- l-iit w.iv.tt w.irti-ring lay, Shi u th ll'.-onii liry iff y, Mie m:i.-l tin- lit ir bniokut'fi'jiluy. A limip had .primp from out tlt Sout j ltm . m-liinir ! -iy, pa'-inir slowly, She only rit ilir tiurninc lirouth : ll'Tt'Vin witc hot. Hil l I'-irr.ht'il hiTmni.tl,. VetBWu t the wind blew ir.iiu the South! And when the win1 bronnht welcome rain, Hull kivhinir l-wly, icinir slowly, . ,T .. . ,.. lur uuirjr praia; It'i' only a lone orchard lane, lu re o!ie ha I waited all in vain! Srribnrr'i for September MARK IIASCAIX'S CONf'EMAL SPIRIT. Axn it was ahout as tall a wcMni ,v they get ii. too,'' said the j-oung man, little hheepishly, lint still wry proudly. He was having his brother's wedilin: advertised in a city newspaper. H tiioujrJit, somehow, that everybody must leei an lutcre-t in thru wedding, cvru to the sharp, business-like rlrrk who took Ins money anil his advertisement behind the counter in the city newspaper olllee io iirk iiascaii. a country hoy, young, a little hit " green." unused to grand wed dings, city ways, or city linery, this wed ding of his brother's was the one resplen dent event in the history of the world. It was something to drc-im over and tr'.l about, Itiit the sharp business rlerk be hind the counter in the city newspaper othec paid no attention to Dick Hascall. Heliion-d the bahtully bo:istful litl remark in the loftiest manner, as though a "tjill weifcimjr" was the most ordinary thinffin the world to liim, as though be bad a "tall weddin?:" of liis own even' lay in the year, fur that matter. Ii k looked disappointed at the sliarp clerk's evident want of sympathy, and turned and went out without venturing1 any more re marks. Now, if I'd Iwen that newspaper clerk, I d have certainly a-ked what the bride wore, and who married 'em, wouldn't you y Dirk Ha-scall's brother's name was Mark llasrull, a country si-lioolnuster, with a pwecf tenor voire a farmer's son lie was vVto bail married on Khort arnuaintanee 1M1 (ioswall. a jrav.brilli uitcitv cirl, who played the piano. She played atreotnpani inents. while he sanir Dreaming: of Thee, Ixive," with his sweet tenor voire, and in hrce weeks' time they could not exist away from each other. After a lengthy and extensive acquaintance of six weeks, Mark Hascall went, one Friday nhrht, to the modest dominie which was the home of bis father and mother, and said : " Mother, I am groin? to lie married." " Yes; so is that brindlecalf," remarked Iame Hasc:i!, sarcastically. " Hut, mother, it's so." said Mark. I'm jroinjrto Ik marrieil as soon as school's out to Hell :swall. Vou'veseeii her, haven't you. mother? " Dame Hascall set down the pan of corn dougrh, with which she was feeding: her springr chickens, and wiped her brow witli Her apron. " Markey. Markey! she said faintly. " Whv. motlier, w Don't skeer me, Kit is there scary " responded Murk, about iK'ina: married ? ebeiTfully. " Von were married, you know." Dame Hascall ncovered ber presence of mind immediately. She never wasted anytime iu fivhiir way to her emotions. She picked up the bowl of corn dou;li apiin. "Mark." said she, 44 is it trutli you've lieen tcllin' me?" "Sure, motlier. I Ik-come all the way from Sweethriar to tell you about it." Mother Hascall looked at him with her Trimmest, most "meat-axry" expression. " So you've cnjrajriil yourself to that city jrirl, have you ? And now you po to the bouse, march to your room.tro into the clos't anil shut the door, and gret down on your knii's and a-k lioil A'migrhty to for Tive you lor bcin' a fool I" She took her empty dougrh pan, and walked slowly into the bouse in a most stalely manner, without another word. -Mark frowned with vexation at tirst. then he laughed, then he fell to thinking; bow littie his old mother knew about him and his Isabel, and about true love in "Ten erxl. They were married as soon as ever bi: anrclic IsalwI's multifarious and inultiglo- nous weiidmgr rarments could lie pre pared. It was a "tall wendingr. sure vn-oug-h. Isaln-l's father was not a rich man and lie sent nearly all Ins worldly sav ing's to jrive bis daughter a magnificent wedding and some forks and spoons. Then he washed his hands of her future, and left her to her husband and Providence. So they were married because they could not exist without each other. It was one of those hurried matches which sometimes take place between two young people whom the lates have decreed shall make fools of themselves. They did not kivp house, liecause Bell didn't know bow to wrk. and, secondly, In-cause they had no house to keep. They remained at Farmer HaraU's, and they bad not been marri 'd three months before they began to discover that two congenial souls who had liccn mated in heaven le forchand. and born for each other, ami that sort of thing, could nevertheless quarrel like two squabbling pigeons. Dame Has call worked for them and was rather kind, but prim and. on the whole, not encour aging to a sweet girl-bride. who wore white Swiss morning' rolies trimmed with laee and inserting, and didn't know how to make soil soap. " I think vou don't understand dear Bell, mother." explained Mark. " She is not one of those lrivolous city girls who can't io anything but dance "and thumb the piano. I H-ar Bell has a very Mierior intel hvt. That's what attracted me to her lirst, you know. That dear girl actually knows political economy; and ber favorite au thors are Mrs. Browning and Tennyson and Emerson.' " I don't know nothin about Ennvson Temerson," answered Dame Hascall, in (lisibiin. " But I doubt Mrs Temerson didn't learn her how to make a loaf of yeast riz bread, or to raise a brindle calf by hand, or to do anythingclse that a poor farmer's wile lias to put lit r shoulder to. Knowin' how to do them things is what I call a savin' knowledge. However, she can learn, I spose. I wish her well, and you too. and I'll teach her bow to make butter and take care of calves and cab bages." Mark smiled to himself as he turned away, and thought how his brilliant wife would stan- at the thought of touching her dainty hand to a churn. But the smile was more than hall a sigh. Mark worked in the hay held. He had alwavs been tin industrious lad. but never steadv. Some days he would work like a steam ox, crowding into one day as much as a slow man would do in three davs, then mayle he wouldn't lift his hand for a week. He was just so in even thing. All bis life went by jerks. He wanted something to hoi I him steady, Dame Hascall said. He seemed to have found it with his new wife at tirst. He worked valiantly on the farm, and came home at night tired, hun grv, and with soiled clothes, not at all the trim gallant who had won the love of dain ty Bell Goswell. It wasn't always agree able to Mrs. Bell to put up her rerinedlips to !e kised by a man who had dirty hands and dust in his mustache. By and by she left of wming to meet him w;hen he came from work, and remained iu the vine-covered porch reading Margaret Fuller. In consequence. Mark wasn't always as sweet tempered as Bell thought him before they were -married. Bell never learned to "raie a brindle calf !y hand." She di-c-laned she could not endure the thought of such coarse things, " Mother is going t tv tilo n summer boarder. llell "said M.irk one d ir. "lie's a ior!rait painter, I believe, or some fellow like that. He's coming out here to fish, an 1 stud ideal heads he's got iu his own head." " What's he like ?" asked Bell. " Oh ! a useless fellow, wasting idle days, nn VOLUME I. I guess. I le reads poetry, and is of the literary sort." "(iood '"said the brailliful wife. "Ihcn at last I shall meet somclio.lv in this for lorn corner who carca for something that I do. I slull lie so glad." Mark sighed again, but this time there was not the ghost of a smile along with the sigh. They were drifting apart, and yet he and his beautiful city wife had not been married six months. " The "summer boarder" came a lazy. good-looking artist, exci-edingly intelli gent, exceedingly polished in his manners. He and Bell became good friends. They took pleasant walks together while Dame Hascall was churningaiid Mark was work ing in the field. They read poetry and philosophy together till Bell began to be bright and animated again, 'It's quite like old times," she said to Mark. "Xow I've found somebody at last who is like mv own set. the friends I used to know before I came to this dull old place." Mark frowned. "It seems to me, Mrs. Hascall. that you would like to forget entirely that you've grot a husband," he said, dryly. Oh, dear, no! But you are no compa ny to me now any more, you know." I Ins time Mark didn t sigh. He frown ed darkly, and muttered something Bell couldn't hear, though it sounded savage. Summer lengthened into autumn, but the boarder still lingered, and oneea neigh bor remarked to Dame Hascall that kT daughter-in-law and her boarder seemed very much pleased with each other's com pany. So they were. Une morning tliev sat on a hall-shaded bank reading, liell was' radiant in her gray autumn dress and soft shawl. The artist looked at her with un mistakable admiration, as he laid down the book and said : "Mrs. Hascall there is I beg your par Ion, but how did you ever happen to marrv vour husband and sett e down in this desolate spot? Believe me, you did yourself a grievous wrong when you buried yourself alive here." Sometimes I begin to think I made mistake," answereJ Mrs. Hascall, gloomilv. Mistake !" echoed the artist. "Vou have thrown your life away. I wish Mrs. Hascall, I must paint you before I go. I have been looking for a face which would be my ideal of Tennyson's Maude, for months. The moment I saw your face, I said to myself. Here is my Maude." lie picked up ttie hook again, "llnsis how I should paint you, Lady Maude, listen : "Col'l and clear-cut face, why come yoo. so cru- euy nie K v Breaking a Hlumberin which all spleenful folly was ilrnwne!. Pale with t he golden beam of an eyelash dead on me oneeE. I'asHionlins, pale, cold face, etar-sweet on a gloom profound." A strong sudden hand parted some bushes near them, a tanned, wrathful face, with white teeth gleaming through the sun-burnt lieard. glowered at them, and a wrathful voice exclaimed : "P'raps you'd like to paint her hus band, too, wouldn't vou? Dinsmote, if you want to know why she married me. and threw her life away. I'd recommend you to ask me. By the Lord Harry ! madam, I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself, dawdling away your time with a senrinienhd donkey like that, and letting vour husband's mother wait on you like a slave! Bell, go home." She looked at nun a moment as it she could have struck him down, so much passion shot out f her blazing eyes. He never thought it was in her. 15nt she recollected almost instantly that it was un pliilosophical. as well as unlady-like, to let the Old Adam rise in her soul. She look ed at her irate lord a second and answered, icily : "Mr. Hascall, perhaps vou overheard me remark, a moment ago, that I sometimes iired I had made a mistake. Allow me to remark, now, that I am sure I have made a mistake." He swore savagely, and tflrned on his heel and strode away. He did not come to dinner nor to tea. A little after mid night something came tumbling and kicking at the front door, and the some thing was Mark Hascall, and lor the lirst time in his life. Mark Hascall was heavily intoxicated. It is a man's way, you know. That was the beginning of it After that, no more peace, no more love for those two. Mark HascaH's life went by jumps, and he had taken a long and deserate downward leap. Their life henceforth was a series of bickerings and bitter quar rels. These two souls that could not exist apart, you know. At the end of a year. Bell went home to her father's, an ill-tempered, disappointed woman, to hang like a stone on the shoulders ol the father, who, but one little vear hefoic, had rublied bis hands and fondly whispered to him self that he was rid of the burden of one of his children, at anv rate. Then Mark drank himself beastly drunk to drown his troubles, and followed her to take her home again. She refused to go. and there, iu the presence of her mother and sister, he raised his hand and struck her in his drunken rage. Even then her cold presence of mind did not leave her. She pushed him across the threshold and out of doors with her own hands, and made as if sh" would have spumed him with her foot. '1 shall make application for a divorce, to-day," she said to him in her calmest voice. It sobered him instantly. "Do you really mean that?" he asked. " So help me God, I do ! I will never live with you another day. For your fu ture I have neither faith, hope, nor chari ty. Go!" She pointed with her hand to the street. and he went away without a word. Iu lue course of time, a year and a half after these two congenial souls bad been pro noumvd one, because they were unable to exist away from each other, a divorce was granted to Mr?'. Ilasvall. and the custody of their infant son given to her, she being in every way fitt"d to rear him properly the court said. The most common occur rence in the world, you know hapiiens every day. Mark made no remonstrance to any part of it. He did not drink so much as before, but seemed sunken into a sullen, leaden apathy. On the day the divorce was grant ed he came to the house and asked to sie his little boy. Even Bell could not find in her heart to deny him. especially as her former husband was perfectly sober. She carried the child down stairs herself. " You are free now," said Mark. Yes.' she answered, with enthusiasm. The old dreams and old ambitions seem to shine before me again. I take off vour ring and return it to you, and with that I put off the old life forever. Thank God, I am free! I am going to put the past out of my life so entire ly that 1 shall not even remember it. I have no memories ; I have hopes once more I have hoiHs. I am free, free ! A hope is better than a memory. Ah. I have wings !" And the little child?" said Mark, soft ly. Her cheeks flushed hotlv. She elasned the baby closer. "I shall" take him with me wherever I go." she answered. I shall devote my life to him, and try to make him wiser and better than his father" she hesitated a little, and then added gently "or his mother." Now that it had really come, and she was all free from the druuken husband. The coarse mother-in-law, and the horri ble old life, with its shameful bickerings, was it odd that she suddenly felt a strange sense of sadness and melancholy ? Those who have passed through like experience will understand it. Mark kissed the baby. " Well good bve," he said. " Good bye." she answered. But neither held out a hand across the gulf which lay between. Isabel had said that the old dreams and ambitions shone before her again. She M H MILAN, was but twenty when her ill-starred mar riage ended in a miserable divorce ; only just beginning life then, so to speak. The dream of her girlhood, belore she met Mark Hascall, and found in him her " congenial soul," had been to go on the stage and In famous. Ah! I don't suppose there ever was a romantic boy or girl who didn't have the same dream one time or another. The ambition came back to her now with a wild heart-bound. If she could beeomean actress, and show thorn all what she was capable of Mark, who had blighted her lite, as she said to herself, the coarse old mother-in-law who snublicd her, and even her own father and mother, who seemed tired of her and disappointed in her.and to look upon her a a burden on their hands, and who somehow didn't seem to care for her as they used. She didn't consult all her friends about it. She made up her mind all to herself, and when she was ready to go she just went, and the friends stormed afterward. When jou want to do a thing, the best way is to go and do it. Isabel was young, bright, handsome and persevering, therefore she succeeded, and when she was successful her friends who had turned their backs on her turned around face front again, and opened their arms. It's the way of the world. Her life was full of ups and downs and petty vexations, too. ami hard work ; but throughout it she had one steady joy her brave, bright, pretty boy, her Leon. "Moth er's heart could not have longed for a finer son. He grew and thrived "like a June blossom, until one morning Isaliel remem bered it was his birthday, and he was ten years old. He had never given her a mo ment's sorrow in his life, except that when he was a very little fellow, he used to run to her from his play sometimes, and say : " Tommy's papa is going to take him a ride. Where is my papa, mother?" At such moments life seemed very bitter for a little while. As the child grew old er, however, be ceased to ask her such questions. He seemed to undei stand it himself. And now Leon was ten years old, and she had heard no word of Mark Has call since the day he kissed the child and went away. That summer she took her boy and went to an obscure farm house in Mi.ine for the vacation. Though in Maine the settlement was as new and " unfinished " one might say, as any place in the Western wilds. That was why she chose it. She saw so much art all the year round that the very breath of nature rested and gladdened her life. They had neither dictor nor minis ter in the settlement. They didn't need any doctor, they said, and no minister liked so rough a living as theirs was. The old lady at the farm-house "rave Isa bel her best bed, covered with the delight of her eyes, her "saw-tooth" quilt, with calico teeth so sharp and fierce that they looked as if they might have sawed your head off at any moment. Isaliel liked it, liecause it was old-fashioned and country ish, and somehow, as she grew older, countryish things liegan to lie beautiful to her eyes. I think it is so with most of us. Brave Leon was as full of childish happi ness as his little body could bold. He made acquaintance with the pigs, sheep and cows at once, and was soon on excel lent terms with even the old mother hens. He watched the nests in the morning, and ever and anon came running merrily in. holding up a fresh-laid egg, and cackling to imitate the brown hen that laid it. Isa bel thought she was happier than she had ever b'-en before, glad with the innocent, heartful happiness of childhood. One day Leon fell into the little river, and before they could rescue him the bright, sweet, loving child was drowned. Isabel would have torn her heart out to bring him to life again, and when that would not do it, she could have torn her heart out with agonv. The only joy, only hope ol her lonely lite, was taken away. She cursed the hour she was born. " If your husband was only alive to help yon bear it, it wouldn't lie so hard," said the mild, sweet-faced old 1 indladv. " It appears like a man's arm is strong to help a woman through troubles. I've had six children, and I buried four of them when they were little. 'Peared like it would have killed me when I lost them, only for my husband. He held me up. There is no friend so near to a woman as a good husband. Forty years my old niaimnd I have heltl together, through good and bad, and the older we get the more good there is and the less bad, and in a few years more, please God, it will lie all good", and no bad any more," said the dear old lady, reverently. Isabel wept bitterly. " I have no friend in the world, not one, now in my trouble," she said. The old lady held up her hands in dis may. " Dotj't take on like that," she said. Her son came in and whispered to her. She arose anil went out with him. " Mother," said the young man, " there is not a preacher within twenty miles of hen1. V hat shall we do tor a burial ser- vice?" Ag.iin the old lady held up her hands in dismay. "To be sure!" she exclaimed. " But there's the schoolmaster, John. He is a kind. Christian man, and will say it as beautifully as any minister could" He ought to be a minister, this day, and he's a lesson to "em as it is. There never was !o good and wise a man in the settlement, John, or one the people loved so. Get the schoolmaster, John." They told isabi l, who was in such a maze of grief, poor, heartbroken, lonely creature, lhat she scarcely knew what they said. They had the child's funeral in the school-house, and all the neigh bors, good, kindly people, came to help her bury her dead. In the school-house Isabel coveted her face, and scarcely saw the tall, pale man in black, who stepped timidly up the oK'ii space beside her boy's colli n. He read a chapter which is very blessed to l)creft mothers : "Sutter little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God." Isabel beard that, even through the darkness of grief. Then the schoolmaster sang a hymn. Isabel started when she heard it. For the voice which sang was a thrillingly sweet, rich tenor voice, and the hymn was one which once mother-in-law Hascall sang at a child's funeral. Isabel looked np, as the beloved school master advanced and with reverent hands uncovered the face of her boy. He look ed at her too, then, and also at the dead child in the cotHn. 'Alien he began softly and gently: 'this little one " He stopped. While they looked to see what it meant, there came a sudden, heavy fall. The beloved schoolmaster had faint ed across the coffin of the dead child. Isa bel's heart seemed bursting, while thev lifted him up anil sprinkled his face with water. , For the pale face of the beloved schoolmaster was the face of Mark Has call. He recovered himself in a minute, and sank beside the coffin, clasping it iu h!s hands with a bitter cry. Driven by an impulse she could not resist, Isabel hur ried forward and fell on her knees beside him, and they wept together beside their dead child's coffin. I May be the bright spirit of the dead lit i tie child embraced them both iu his tender arms. Do you know what the rest is ? It is never quite possible to be entirely off with an old love. We never can feel toward an old love exactly as we feel toward the rest of the world. Altera little time Mark Hascall and Isa-Ih-1, older, sadder in some ways, wiser through some gall-bitter life lessons, join ed their hands again in a holy bond, this time without any diamonds or splendor. And this time it was a holy bond indeed, hallowed by the memory of what had len. Between them there is nothing now but peace, love and happiness. It is because they choose to have it so. and make it so. They will go down hand in hand to a beautiful old age, like the be loved old couple whom I see sometimes, AN GIBSON COUNTY, TENNESSEE, SEPTEMBER 17, 1874. bending together over a newly opened rose, or leaning over the gate, talking soft ly and looking at the distant green hills like Christian viewing the Delectable Mountains. I am sure that no young love is half so beautiful, half so sweet as this gentle old love. Isaliel writes as follows to a friend who has quarrels with her husband, and threat ens to leave linn because they are noi " congenial," and cannot live together iu peace. I hus : ISABEL TO HER FRIEND. " I have learned all 1 know of happiness through a sorrowful experience : there fore is n;y knowledge worth something. Do not let the pernicious idea take root in vour head thai you and vour husband are not congenial."' The baleful poison of this modern philosophy has ruined hosts of homes. " I know that there are no two well dis posed iiersons of sound mind on earth, who cannot live together eaeefully, hap pily, even, if both make up their minds to do"it. The sacred, old fashioned way ' till death do part' is the best, wisest and holiest. A scrap of an old poem which I read years and years ago, flits through my brain as 1 write: "Steep the soul In one pure love, and it will last thee long." A Colorado Fiend. It is not so very long ago that it was chronicled in these columns how a party by the name of Packer had arrived at Del Norte, declaring that he was the only sur vivor of a party of six that had started early in the spring lrom Utah for the San Juan mines, the rest having killed and eat en each other to preserve themselves from starvation. According to advices from that point, Packer's story has been found so far true that his five companions have been killed, but there is every reason to suppose tliey have been murdered by him tor the sake ot plunder. Some two weeks ago. Captain C. II. Gr.i' ham, tif Del Xorte, while prospecting on the south branch of the Gunnison, came upon the corpses of five men lying in some hrusti at the toot ol a lofty pine tree in secluded valley. The bodies were all more or less mutilated. The head of one had been severed from the body : the head of another was badly crushed, while the flesh had been cut in huge masses from the breasts, thighs, and the fleshy part of the legs ol all, and bullet holes gaped in the region of their stilled-forever hearts. The bodies of two were in a perfect state of preservation, so as to b; easily recognized, hut the remaining three were mutilated, so that their own mothers would not have known them. Xear one of the bodies was an open pocket-book, in which was a mu tilated note in favor of Israel Swan, fir $.-)U0, but besides several blankets and tin cups, no other personal property of anv kind was to lie seen. The. discoverers of this fearful crime did not attempt to alter the condition ot the bodies, but started for Saguache, where Parker, notwithstanding Ins cannibalistic story, had been confined. He had, however, just before contrived to To escajie, and is supposed to have sloped for Aew JUexico. there seems but little doubt that the five dead bodies are those of George Noon,James Humphrey, Sam Bell. Israel Swan and frank, with whom Packer started from Salt Lake. This, too, does not seem to be the first assassination Packer is credited with hav ing committed. Four years ago he is said to have killed three men on the Divide, in El Paso county, the Sheriff of which offers a reward of$."i)0 for his head for doing the same. The Sheriff of Saguache also offers $-00 for his arrest and return to that place. ine description declares lum to De a stocky, thick-set man, 5 feet 8 inches high. and about 30 years old. Two of his front teeth are wanting, and the first and fourth lingers of his left hand. i'he fact of the flesh being cut in the manner described oft the bodies found by Captain uraliam, might seem to give cur rency to the idea that Packer's story was partially true, and that he had killed them to avoid starvation. But there are enough game and berries in that district of coun try to render such cannibalistic measures unnecessary, and the fact that no articles of value were found on either of the dead, confirms the theory that they were mur dered for their earthly possessions. Deli ver News, Aug. 25. A Singular Accident. The Providence Press contains the fol lowing account of a very singular accident and narrow escape from death : A remarkable accident, which came near resulting in the death of a young lady, occurred at the Delaine Mill in Olneyville to-day. Margaret Donnelly, aged 18 years, of No. 10 Howard street, is em ployed in the sewing-room and runs a sewing-machine. About 9:30 o'clock this morning one of the young men at work in this room took up a rope, some twenty feet in length, for the purpose of throw ing it over one of the nails suspended from the ceiling, in order that he might "pull" some cloth over it. A noose was fixed at the end of the rope in which one of the ends of the cloth is placed, and by this pro cess the cloth is drawn over to another machine, situated some thirty or forty feet away. The rope was coiled up like a lasso, but in throwing it from him the young man miscalculated the distance and it was sent over one of the main shafts, which passes through the sewing-room into one of the adjoining rooms. The noose caught Miss Donnelly firmly around the neck, and before she was aware of it she was drawn suddenly upward. Her assistant, a young woman some years her senior, took in the situation at a glance, and grasped her by the waist, meanwhile screaming loudly for assistance. A young man standing near by ran to the aid of the unfortunate young "woman and grabbed her by the dress. All three were pulled up some ten feet or more, when Miss Don nelly's head came in contact with a board projection near the shaft, the rope gave way, and they were violently precipitated to the floor. Miss Donnelly was picked up in an insensible condition and con veyed to her residence. Dr. J. B. Greene was summoned, and on examination it was found that her neek had been serious ly bruised, and she had sustained other severe injuries. It is expected that she will recover. Her companion also received a severe wound on the head. We learn that no blame is attached to the young man who had charge of the rope. The escape was a miraculous one. The New King of the Turf. A Saratoga letter to the New York Graphic says : Not having seen the great race, the next thing was to see t?e vic torious racer ; so to-day I drove out tocall upon Fellowcraft. Fellowcraft is as gen tle as a little dog, and submitted to being kissed and patted with a quietness that almost became patronizing condescension. He has not a proud air, however, like some of the racers of his family, notably his uncle. Asteroid, who always strikes an attitude when visitors approach him. Fel lowcraft looks rather meek, but yet has an air of determination, as if conscious that when things become serious he would show who was who. He is a chestnut, and has some of the Lexington marks, a pair of very long white stocking3 on hia hind legs, and a good-sized star on his forehead. His mane and tail are decidedly blonde, just the rcd-vellow with which the blonde of the period has familiarized us. He had on his traveling clothes of red flannel, but one of his attendants kindly removed his bonnet to show his face. Fellowcraft hurt himself not a whit in the race; he came in those present at the finish told me perfectly fresh, and looking as if he could run another four miles. He ate a good square meal, full niiions, as soon as it was offered him after the race, and no better sign of health can a horse evince. Some Adrentares With Catamounts. It is doubtful if any Secimens of the catamount, or panther, oiice the terror of our forests, now survive in the State of Vermont ; but as late as in 18(57 two of these animals wen; killed in different parts of the State. In the autumn of that year. a fox-hunter, near the foot of Ascuntney, Mountain, in Weatherstield.Vt., had a valu able hound mysteriously killed. All hisef orts were vain to trace the cause of the ani mal's death. The mangled remains found showed that the dog had received terribly rough usage, but what sort of antagonist had done the deed, the hunter could not even guess ; for it was not supposed that there was anv wild animal in the vicinity capame ol killing a lox-nounu. borne time afterwards, several children on their way to school one uav, met a strange am mal in the road. It did not seem inclined to turn out for them. On the contrary, it faced them with so ferocious an appear ance that they turned anu tied. Most for tunately the animal did not pursue them When they reached home and told what they had seen, their parents could not be lieve tne story. The description given by thf! children answered to that of a cata mount, but as no such creature had been seen in that thickly settled region for near ly forty years, it was decided that the young people must have been frightened by a dog. On the 30th of January, however, a hunter by the name of Venight struck the track of some strange animal, and feeling curious to learn what had made it, fol lowed the footprints to the top of Pine Hill about one mile south of Downer's Hotel. There he found the tracks led into a den. Night was approaching and he could not stay to investigate. He could hear a low growling in the den, and this convinced him that some dangerous animal was hidden there. Finding ma terials near at hand, he stopped up the hole as near as he could, and went home. The next morning, in company with sev eral other men who were armed with gruns and had shovels also with them, he re paired to the spot again. He found that his prisoner had not escaped. The only way of reaching him in safely seemed to hie to dig down to the den from above. After two hours of labor they cleared the earth from the rocks over the cave, and found a small hole through the roof. Then procuring a rail, they thrust it down through this aperture, and immediately a fierce snarl came up from the darkness below. The next moment the end of the rail was spitefully seized, and held so firmly, that the man who stood at the opening could not pull it away. Several other men took hold with him, and drew the rail up by main strength, bringing the animal along with it. As soon as the creature's head appeared above the rocks, a ball was tired into it. The catamount (for the men were certain now it was a catamounts relinquished his hold, and dropied to tlie bottom of the cave again. This operation hail to be twice re peated before the fierce animal was killed. When he was dragged from the cave he measured, from the tip of the no.e to the end of the tail, seven feet and nine inches. He was thirty-two inches highland weighed one hundred and twenty-one and one-half pounds. The skin was stuffed by Prof. Hagan, formerly Sfate Geologist, and is now on exhibition at Downer's Hotel, Weatherslield, near the foot of Ascutney Mountain. The same year, on the ISth of Decem ber, a man by the name of Gomen, living in the town of Johnson, on the Lamoille Biver, was going through a piece of woods to the house of a distant neighbor. On his way he saw in the srow the tracks of a large animal with which he was not ac quainted. He followed the footprints, and, after some time, the creature itself started up from a clump of bushes, and confronted him. It was a full-sized cata mount. One glance at his long, lithe body, his liery eyes and merciless te?tb. was sufficient to remind Mr. Gomen that discretion is the better part of valor ac least to a person unarmed and he incon tinently took to his heels. Going home, he goon collected thirteen men with guns and three good dogs, and with this force he returned to the woods. l)iviiing here, one party went around and station ed themselves where they could head oil" the catamount should he attempt to es cape. 1 he other party with the dogs loi lowed up the track. They had not gone halt a mile before the catamount showed himself on the other side of the woods, where the first party lay in wait for him. One of the hunters fired, and wounded him in the hip. At this, the dogs being close unon him, the animal turned, and with an enormous leap plunged into the undergrowth. The ground was level here, and it is asserted that this single leap of the huge eat measured from twenty-five to thirty feet. Af.er tearing his way through the thickets for ten or eleven rods, hotly pursued by the dogs, he sprang into a tree, and commenced jumping from one tree to another, t many, reaching a large spruce, he curled himself upon a limb, nearly forty feet from the ground, and faced his enemies. The hunters were close upon him. Several shots were fired. most ot them taking etlect, and one bull brought him to the ground. The dogs rushed upon him, but wounded as he was. they soon found that they were no match for the tierce animal in a close light. They would have paid dearly for tneir rashness had not a ritle-ball put a speedy end to his struggles. This catamount was eight fett and a half-inch long, and two feet seven inches high. His weight was one hundred and two pounds. He was very lean, and when his skin was stripped off, the cause of his leanness was discovered. His head and shoulders were tilled with porcupine's quills. One or more of them had passed entirely through his head, and many oth ers were half way through, showing that at some tune he had made rather sorry work of trying to devour this small but formidahle kind of prev. Had he been in good flesh he would have weighed much more, ana in that case, too, it is UKeiy ne would have sold his life much more dearly than he did. Franklin B. Gage, in l'outh's Companion. The Streets of Moscow. Russia boasts her civilization, but civili zation cannot be called pertect till the art of keeping clean is thoroughly understood and tho-oughly put in practice. From the following description of the old jiuscoviie capital by a foreign correspondent we should suppose the city needed another fire equal to the one that burned it down in the path of Bonaparte : hen the thaw comes, and the sun De gins to shine. Moscow becomes a city ef stinks. All the long-imprisoned animal and vegetable matter which the frost has kept sweet all the winter, now poisons tne air and by the month of May the cholera usually sets in. Kussia is the headquar ters of cholera, and no wonder, consider ing that in matters of cleanliness and common decency the Russians, as a na tion, are yet children. Indeed, it is frcm Russia that the cholera taint has been wafted westward into Eurojie. Europe suffers by its propinquity to Russia, just as a cottager suffers from his neighbor s dunghill, be his own cottige and belongings ever 60 clean. No words can give anj idea of the filthy and neg lected state of a Russian town in spring and summer. In spring, for instance, owing to the bad paving and draining, every street is either a water-course or a morass. At Moscow, especially, owing to the na ture of the soil, tlie stones sink and become displaced, and the black mud ooze3 be tween them. A horse that has sunk up to his belly in mud is no uncommon sight in the streets of Moscow. I have frequently been obliged to hire a carriage to take me across the street, and this not from an delicacy about soiling my boots. I have in I my time seen bad roads of all descriptions, EXCHANGE and on both sides of the world, but I have never seen any roads in town or country so atrociously bad as the streets of Mos cow. The pavement, instead vf being an Improvement, makes them worse, for it rises here in hillocks, and sinks there to form holes full of water or liquid mud. As soon as the mud dries and turns into dust, many streets resemble the dry beds of mountain torrents, and the carriages rock and roll in them like ships in a storm. The sun is very hot in the early spring, and in consequence of this, and the cold, dry wind that prevails, the air is full of dust. A Texas Romance. Years ago, and yet not so nianv. for it has been since the war, some disagree ment arose between a couple of married folks in one of the old States, and after much pain and suffering and public ex posure of family a flairs in the courts, a decree of divorce was obtained and they who had stood at the altar of Hymen to be joined in union were parted at the altar of Justice, to which they had appealed. Their own way each of tfiem turned, and long years have come and gone since then. The husband and father traveled with his burden to the golden shores of California, and there, no doubt, tried hard to forgive and forget. Ihe wife and mother, with their babe, struggled with the skeleton of her deadened lite and in time came to Texas. By some fatality the husband came to Texas also. Last Friday they both were aboard the train bound from Galveston to this city. The little daughter, while looking curi ously over the car at all the strange faces, suddenly caught sight of her long gone father. Before her mother could stay her, she had rushed to him crying "Papa ! papa !" The greeting of father and child was touching and beautiful. All the old emotions, all the smothered love of wile and child, came back in an instant. Mamma is here," said the little girl ; come and go to her." And she led her father up to the astonished mother, and a poetic predestination was accomplished. They met and talked as of yore, and soon all was well with them again. Chastened. as by tire, they seemed to know each other better. 1 lie sequel is soon told. After reaching- Houston the services of Rev. Mr. Hackett were called for, a license obtained, and the marriage vows resumed with a far better understanding of their nature and sanctity. And thus it is "AH s well that ends well." Houston (7Vara) Telegraph, Aug. So. Heroic Rescue. The Old Colony (Mass.) Memorial has the following account of an act of hero in : One afternoon when a sudden storm oc curred, Oscar Marsh, of Duxbury. assist ant keeper, was in charge of Plymoutl: upper lighthouse, which stands just out- id.; the harbor. Just before the squall Henry Marsh, a brother of Oscar, came near the light in his sail boat and had a conversation with Oscar. Immediately after leaving, and when in mid channel be tween the lighthouse and Dick's Hat, the squall struck his boat which was at once thrown down, the ballast shifted, and she remained upon her beam ends. Oscar saw the accident from the light, but was appa rently without means of assistance, the. only boat in the vicinity being a small lory anchored some forty yards from the light. Meanwhile, Henry bad crawled unon the ex nosed nortion of the boat where he clung for life, the water rising rapidly, the wind meeting the tide, and causing a. short, combing sea. A moment, and Oscar had made up his mind. He tirst lit the lighthouse lamps, that they might be m readiness in case of any accident to himself. Then, stripping off all his clothes, he lashed a pair of oars to his back, and leaping from the building into the water, now raging with the luil force of the sudden gale, he started to swim tor his dory. It was a toilsome ser vice, but at last safely performed, and soon alter he was alongside the wreck, but not a moment too soon to save his brother from his perilous position. Taking Hen ry into the dory, almost helpless from ex haustion, they strove to save the sail ooat, and finally succeeded in towing her into a safe anchorage, with the loss only of an oar and rudder. The whole performance occupied about an hour, and lit its conclusion both broth ers were saved from death and in the light house, nearly prostrated from the long exposure and severe exertion. Au Artificial Face. At a recent meeting of the Medical Soci ety of Loudon, a member, Dr. Hutchin son, exhibited a patient who had lost a large portion of his face by disease, and to whom the deficiency was supplied by arti ficial means in a way similar to that by which some of our dentists treat loss of palate, nose, etc. The disease had resulted in the destruc tion of the superior maxilla, all the spongy bones, and also the soft parts, in cluding the nose, some of the cheek, the upper Tip, and nearly all of the soft palate. A rhino-plastic operation being deemed im practicable, the case was treated mechani cally. To supply the lost parts internally an apparatus was constructed ot vulcanite, bearing mineral teeth, which articulated with those of the lower jaw. and this was held in position by the vulcanite being adapted to the whole of the inner surface of tlie nasal fossse, thus affording a hold by means of suction. For the sake of lightness the whole of the apparatus was hollow, while the outer surface was coated with soft gutta percha ; the floor of the artificial piece formed the roof of the mouth. Mr. Hntchinson had also made an artificial nose of vulcanite. This was fixed to the man's face by an elastic band which passed around the head. The junc tion was partially hidden by means of a moustache fixed to the upper lip, which was also artificial. Mr. Huehinson com ments on the fact that the man's occupa tion (he was a mason) and his position in life compelled him to treat the cae in the simplest manner possible. Various ded icate improvements in the shade of color, mode of attachment, and usefulness of mastication, could be made In the case of persons in a higher sphere of life, who would appreciate delicacy of manipulation. A Circus of Fleas. The latest excitement in Berlin is the exhibition ef drilled fleas. The exhibi tion takes place on a large sheet of white papei fastened upon an ordinary table, to which all the spectators approach in turn, so as to be able to witness in all details the extraordinary maneuvers of these little, but marvelously powerful and gifted ras cals. Here you see one of the muscular fleas rolling a small barrel along with its feet, as the men do in a circus ; there you see a slim, voluptuously built madam of the species walking along in crinoline and carrying her parasol, with all the affecta tion of a city miss : at another place a well-trained fellow performs on the flying trapeze without any danger to his neck, however, since the bigerest fall would not break that ; white below the trapeze, on the paper, a host of little ones are turning somersaults at a fearful rate. The largest specimens of the collection have been trained to draw wagons, drays, carriages, etc. To fix the harness properly on them the flea-timer places his pupils on a piece of paper covered with mucilage, where they have to stick. He then, by the aid of a watchmaker's loop, arranges a strong gold thread around their bodies, and at taches it to the wagon or carriage. The ladies of Berlin attend the exhibition in large numbers, and seem to take an ex traordinary delight in the performance of the little creatures, who are fed regularly, every morning, from the arm of the great flea-tamer. Hearth and Home. Brcn'ettes are in fashion now, and the blondes are pale with envy. NUMBER 29. Posting an Old Couple Spots. on Historic un tne tram the other day were a very confiding old man and a very innocent old lady. They had passed away five-sixths of their lives hidden away behind the hills of , - . . . . i ci mum, aim were goin z u ' esiern Michigan on a visit to their son. After little skirmishing round the old gentleman pitched into me about the "crops," "sile, and when 1 found how innocent he was. gave him all the information I could. All at once, as he rode along, the wife caught his arm and exclaimed : " Look out, Samuel, or you'll be forget ting that place where tiiey tit !" The old man explained. He said that a young man who came down from Canada with them told him to look out for the bat tle-field of Braddock's defeat as soon as he left Detroit. I was going to reply that the young man was an infernal liar, but the old lady seem ed to nave set her heart on seeing ttie spot, and the old man was so anxious that I couldn't bear to disappoint them, When we got down into the woods I point ed out the "battle-field," and they put their heads out of the windows and took in the scene. i" Think of it, Hanner!" exclaimed the old man, as he drew in his head; "think of them Injuns creeping through them woods and shooting Mr. Braddock down dead !" " My soul !" replied the old lady seem ingly overcome at the idea, and she kept her eyes on the woods until 1 thought she would twist her neck oft. We got along all right for about five miles more, and then the old man wanted to know if we weren't down pretty near the spot where Tecumseh fell. " Where !" I yelled, and he said that the same young; man had informed him that the railroad ran close to the identical spot where the great Indian warrior fell and slept. " It'll be a powerful favor to me an' Samuel if ye'll point out the spot!"' urged tae ol lady, placing her hand on my arm. How could 1 go back on what that brazen young man bau said? The old folks had made up their minds to see the spot, and if I didu't show it to them they might wor ry for weeks, and they might think the young man had lied, or that 1 wasn't post ed in the historic spots of my ownS-aie. Lor' forgive me, but a mile further on I pointed out a hill and said : "Behold the last resting place of the great Tecumseh !" " Think of it, Hanner just think of it !" exclaimed the old man, "right there is where they got him !" "Mercy! but it don't seem posssible!" she ejaculated, and she had to get out her snutt-box before she could recover from the shock. The old gentleman said he had a partic ular interest in seeing the spot, because he knew the man who killed Tecumseh used to live right by him. " He must have been an awful Injun !" broke in the old lady, "for the young man said he didn't die till they had cut off his head, and feet, and hands, and blowed the body up with a barrel of powder !" I wanted to get away alter that, fearing that something worse was coming, biit she insisted upn my taking a pinch of snuff, and so I kept my seat. We weie just beyond Brighton, when the old man came at me like a steamboat, with : " Now, then, how fur is it to the spot where they found the Babes in the Woods?' I wanted to get out of it, but how could I? That young man had deliberately lied to those nice old folks, and I hadn't the moral courage to tell 'em so. and thus had to make a liar of myself. It's awful to de ceive any one, especially a good old man, and a lat and motherly old lady on their way to the tomb. " That's yes that's the spot !" I said, as we came to a dark piece of woods. " Think o' that, Hanner !" he said, his head out of the window, "think of them babes being found there !'' " Yes, it was fearful !" she replied "seems as if I could almost see them stub bing about in there now !" There was another historic spot of which the young man bad told them, but they IiSd forgotten it, and I was never ihore thankful. They kept qut until the f-brakeman yelled out, "Lansing," and then the old man bobbed up and exclaim ed: " Lansing Lansing why, here's where tney nung lom Collins, am t it?" He explained that Tom Collins, a Chi cago desperado, had murdered eleven old women and drank their blood for his liver complaint, and after be'ng hunted for miles and miles, had at length been cap tured at lansing, cut to pieces oy the in furiated populace, and then left hanging to a tree. I had to point out the tree. It was a tree near the depot, and the tail of a kite had lodged in lis branches. "There's whar thev hung him, Han ner:" said the old man, stretching his neck. " And there's some o' his shirt left yet!" exclaimed the old lady, and as I backed out of the ear, the good old man was re marking that he was going to ask the train boy if he didn't have the pamphlet lite of 1 om Collins, so that they could tret further particulars. Detroit Free Press. Directing a Postal Card. The Pougbkeepsie (N.Y.) iVisio says: On Saturday a letter was received on a postal car on the Hudson River Railroad, having this queer direction : t irst came the name of the party to whom the lttter was in tended Rev. Mr. SometxHh- or other. Below this, neatly fastened t3 the envel ope, was a hsh-hooK, painted red. 1 hen came the rest of the direction, "Dutchess County, New l ork." Ihe clerks looked at it, pondered the matter deeply, and were inclined after severe study to give the matter up, like a hard conundrum. After a while one of them suggested Fish kilfas the destination of the letter, a fish hook being used to kill fish, of course. That did for a first guess, but another clerk beat it all hollow by suggesting "Red Hook." This evidently was the place meant by tlie funny letter-writer. But another difficulty arose. There are two Red Hook post-offices in Dutchess county; one Is Red Hook proper, or "lower," and the other is Upper Red Hook. To which of these offices should the letter go? F'urther study caused that trouble to vanish also, for was not the point of the fish-hook turned downward to indicate the lower Red Hook? Of course it was, and the clerk triumphantly deposited the letter in the lower Red Hook mail-bag. and before this time' doubtless the dominie has had his eyes gladdened by the sight of the red fish-hook sent to the lower Red Hook by his wag gish correspondent. We seem at last to have reached hard pan in the matter of murder. Mr, Rae, of Kansas City, had a dispute with the late Mr. Schneider concerning a game of cro quet, and, instead of braining him with a mallet, went for a shot-gun and roquetted twenty-six buckshot into his opponent's heart a big joke on Schneider, which he took in dead earnest. We thought that when men took to killing each other for muffing hot bug-smashers and juggling keen daisy-cutters at base-ball, we had got about as low as we could go, but this Kansas City incident reveals our error. And now we shall expect to read that a Quaker and a Mennonite, while playing mumble-peg both being considerably un der the influence of ginger-beer became involved in a quarrel concerning a knotty point of the game, and killed each other. St. Louis Globe. 44 Soxxt, how did you get that hole in your pants Ty 44 You know old Snarley " "Yes." "And his dog?" "Y'es." "Well, thereby hangs a tale, and hereby hung the dog, and that's the hole story." PO'GEST PARAGRAPHS. Tot School for Scandal Plymouth Church. A irrni girl said of her Ill-tempered uncle: "He hasn't got a single laugh In hU face." Josh Buuxos say. "Snccessdon'tkon slst in never making blunder, but in never making the same one the seckond time." " Mt twin-brother is a pile-driver," is in aristocratic circles driving out "That's the sort of hair-pin I am," as the correct phrase for self-laudation. Two young men out riding were passing a farm-house whei-e a fanner was trying to harness an obstinate mule. "Won't he draw r said one of the men. "Of course," said the farmer, 44 he'll draw the attention of every fool that passes this way." The young men drove on. An accommodation train between James town and Lake View was the stvne ofs little Incident on Thursday, ""ton don t think that the boy is under 10, hey, and yon wont pass him for half fare? Just look t that, will ve " And from out the old carpet-bag the old lady.with trembling eagerness, brought the well-worn family Bible, and taming to the page reserved for births and deaths, held it triumphantly up under the conductor's nose, with, "IKies that look as though I was a liar, young man?" With such testimony before hw eyes, the conductor could do no less than pass the boy for half fare, amid subdued applause from the passengers. When the Rev. Mr. Hallock was settled in Plainfield it was his custom to collect his own salary, tor which every voter in the town was assessed. Calling upon Mr. D.. the blacksmith, one day, he said: "I have a small bill against yon." " And for what?" "For preaching." Said Mr. !.. 44 1 have heard none of your preaching." The fault is your own," said -"dr. u, the doors have been open, and you might have come in." Not long after, as Mr. II. was one day passing the black smith shop, Mr. P., hailing him, said : 44 1 have a small bill against you." "And for what?" said Mr. II. "for shoeing your horse." 44 1 have hail no horse shod tiere," said Mr.it. " ine lauic is your own," replied air. v., " the noors nave been open, and you might have come in.' Mr. H. paid the Dill. Vongregntwnalut. Harry sat at his father's side at a friend's table. Somebody passed him the bread. Harry touched a piece that was dry so ho dropped it and took a softer one. " My son," said the father reprovingly, 44 never touch a piece of bread or cake that you never mean to take." Harry ate his bread and remembered. After a while the cake was passed round. When it came to Har ry, the little fingers made a quick adroit movement, and hauled oil three large slices. 44 Why, Harry !" cried his father. Well, papa," said the boy, bravely, vou told me to take all tlie pieces I touched, and I touched all these." 44 No, no, my son ; I said to touch only what yon meant to take." Ana tnat s just what 1 aid, papa, i meant to take evury one, ana l tnea ior mat oiner nig snce with the pile of sugar on it, but I didn't quite get it." Everybody laughed, and the father wisely concluded io give iiarry his next lesson in table etiquette at home. Factory Butter. Under the factory system, the market is now supplied with cheese ef good and uniform quality, and at prices that cones- pond favorably with other articles of diet n daily use. it is true there is stm mucn cheese placed upon the market that is ot inferior quality, and, also, large quantities of rich cheese that, from imperfect ripen ing, will not bear transportation, especi ally to foreign markets. Nevertheless, we are yearly improving in this direction, and. undoubtedly, will continue to do so until we shall produce cheese that shall rank as first-class in any market in the world. As this is being brought about, the consump tion and demand will increase, thus giving new impetus to this important industry. The present lack in dairying in the We.-t, is a system by which butter can be made by the same system as is cheese ; tor fac tory butter, like factory cheese, always commands an extra price. That is, while it does not, perhaps, bring the price ob tained by certiun individuals who make large quantities ofbutter. in home dairies, it does bring prices higher than ate oti tained by what are considered to be good dairymen. What is now wanted, is the fostering of butter factories, or the com bining of butter-making with cheese-making in the same factories, so that, in the spring and fall, and during the winter, when fresh-made butteralways commands good prices, more attention could be paid to its manufacture. There is every indication, now, that first class butter will command higher prices than usual this fall and winter. This was the case last winter ; in fact first-class but ter always commands high priis in the West, and the reason wh v such is the case is that there is never a full supply of what was, at one time, known as "gilt edge" butter, but which now is not taken on this brand unless the maker is well known. Really first-class butter, however, will bring a large price even in summer, if sent to market cool, and thereafter kept so. When butter can be contracted tor at thirty cents the year through, there is ful ly as much or more money in if, as in cheese at current prices, if the value of the skimmed milk and butter milk be taken into account. While butter may be manufactured in small dairies, of fully as good quality as in large ones, there are certain necessities as ice, uniform packages, and facilities fo- carrying and shipping, that are absolutely necessary. These can be more cheaply obtained in factories, for the amount of butter made, than they can be in small dairies. These; aggregated, would forn a great saving in the manufacture of but ter, and consequently in the profits, to say nothing of the absolute uniform quality of the product. For this reason, we again urge the more general establishment of butter factories in the West, either sepa rately, or, as we believe would be more profitable, in connection with cheese fac tories. Western Rural. Eggs ts. Meat. Would it not be well to substitute more eggs for meat in our daily diet? About one-third of the weight ot an egg is solid nutriment. This is more than can be said of meat. There are no bones and tough pieces which have to be laid aside. A good egg is made up of ten parts shell, sixty parte white and thirty parts yelk. The white of an egg contains eighty-six per cent, water ; the yelk hfty-two per cent. The average weight or an egg is aoout two ounces. Practically an egg is animal food, and yet there is none of the disagree able work of the butcher necessary to ob tain it. The vegetarians of England use eggs freely, and many of these men are eighty and ninety years old, and have been remarkably free from illness. A good egg is alive. The shell is poro"s, ami the oxy gen of the air goes through the shell and keeps up a kind of respiration. An egg soon becomes stale in bad air, or in very dry air charged with carbonic acid. Eggs may be dried and made to retain their goodness for a long time, or the shell may be varnished, which excludes the air.when, if kept in a moderate temperature, they may be kept good for years. The French people produce more egg3 than any other, and ship millions of them to England an nually. Fresh eggs are more transparent at the center, old ones on the top. Very old ones are not transparent in either place. In water in which one-tenth of salt ias been dissolved, good eggs sink and in different ones swim. Bad eggs float in pure water. The best eggs are laid by young, healthy hens. If they are properly fed, the eggs are better than if they are al lowed to eat all sorts of food- Eggs are best when cooked four minutes." This takes away the animal taste that is offen sive to some, but does not so harden the white or yelk as to make them hard to di gest. An egg, if cooked very hard, is dif ficult or digestion, except by those wun stout stomachs; such eggs should be eaten with bread masticated very nneiy. An ex cellent sandwich can be made with eggs and brown bread. An egg spread on toast is fit for a king, if kings deserve any better food than anybody else, which is doubtful. Fried eggs are less wnoiesome than doucu ones. An egg uroppeu into not water is not only a clean and handsome, but a deli cious morsel. Most people spod the taste of their eggs by adding pepper and salt. A little sweet butter is tne Desi uressmx- Eggs contain much phosphorus, which 13 supposed to be useful to those who use their brains much. Poultry Review.