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THE GRENADA GAZETTE. I gin us out LADD A Pi WK, Editors ltd Mansion. it? GRENADA« • • MISS. FAREWELL 1 •• -Farewell!" S<_- full of childish joy Were we a» hand In hand together Ve walked, an simple girl and boy, Across the moorland'» tossing heather. At parting time you laughed " farewell," With waving band and nodding head; juiem to tell Of broken hearts now crushed and dead l I •■Farewell:" «ere older grown And childhood'» hour» had taken wing. When April-days of life had flown And left you in your fair young spring, 1 touched your dainty tlnger-tipa And shyly »ought your downcast eyes; Our hearts so full of love, our lips Were silent save for whispered sighs! in "Farewell The summer >u of life Drought to the bud a blossomed sweetness; Then I forever claimed my wife Aud joy was crowned in its completeness, a mournful souud of woe. Then es Deep us the desert whirlwind's blast; And desolation s fiercest throe here the Hghi had pafcsedj Told "Fn It echoes through the gloom, Hringing a whispered thought of pleasure— E'en though through the portals of the tomb Death's angel bore my heart's bo For when the golden bowl be broket se the silver life cord lies, treasure. in And u Earth's Ik vond the c* •ad farewells a ■ al! unspoken *s of Paradise : —Eva Best, in Detroit E I'r'tt. REKTHA'S FARM .' 7 A Daughter's Investment and What Came of It. so ! if , , , •util 0 , 1 -, ■paints, brushes, powders j palettes mid tin- numerous articles used ; in !';"» ll, f *>"' >•=*«» ,'nid h, '>; I brush, mid now sat staring at the card j before her. The near-sighted eyes j ,, were just a Little misty, for on this , card were based many hopes. j Several years before this time Mr. | Searles hud failed in busi Bertha had been painting all the afternoon. In one corner of the room, ! bv tlic window, stood lier table laden ss, and be- I h'g forced to give up tin- little country j, house in which all but tlie youngest of j jg Id- children had be. n born, they . une 1 t. the ci tv, some forty miles from the former home, since. Husines Here they had lived vas fait How, and all d contented. A c< and to ! wear, pleasing children, friends and j health. What more could a family While seemed happy : fortabie home, plenty to eat - ï desire? But Bertha did choose more, attending school and enjoying all the f school-girl life, she had been contented with only an occasional longing look back to the j old home. But she had a deep, true love of country life, and when her it Busy, practical girl ith reference to this hope, At school she had been bright and studious, but the few lessons site had taken in painting since leaving school j liad shown her talent to lie in that j ï passionately fond j of tlie art, and spent all her leisure in designing and copying. Heretofore she had used her exquisite taste and skillful touch on souvenirs for family and friends; but now she had answered the call for Christmas cards, hoping to one Of the prix .ffered. ' She waitetl a day or two for the card to become thoroughly dry, then with y misgivings sent' it off. ait for an answer, ! hut Bertha proved herself equal to the j occasion, telling no one her secret But how shall 1 tell of the great joy when at last the answer came! She i had »won the prize for one thousand ] ... , i , i i "Mv dear daughter, how proud I f ,, 1 am. exclaimed lier father. i "it isn't a bit more than you do-1 serve," said her mother, smiling fond the girl who always had been ! ' daughter to her. -Oh! lei me -ee it!" cried her sister I Klla. "1 knew you'd do something , , , . . red cheeks, receiving the congratula good to j frolics and diversions school days were ended she began to realize her loss, that she was, she did dream of the time when she should live in the coun try again, and every plan for the future was made Siie wa direction. in. It was hard to ly up • of these davs." great The girl stood with shining eyes and ! tions of her family. It was feel that she had done something to make them proud of lier. "What will you do with so much money?" asked Klla; but her sister was not prepared to tell. She knew very well that the only plan she yet had formed would not be looked upon fa vorably. She was by nature independ ent, hut it was like facing a battery to go before her family, tell her plans, and know that they thought her ro mantic or ridiculous. said her father, one "Well, Bertha,' evening, laying down the paper, "have you decided how to invest your for tune?" ••Yes, father, lint I'm afraid you'll answered Bertha, hesi not approve, tatingly, while Mrs. Searles looked up from her sewing, and Ella from her book. Bertha made a grand effort "I want to buy our old place back," and her voice trembled slightly. "Are you crazy, Bertha!" exclaimed her father, amazement in every line of while I have liis face. "What on earth! Searles; while Ella closed her book in rash disregard of marks on the morrow for unprepared lessons, premely more interesting than Latin or physics. "1 want to take it up the chance," continued Bertha, unoccupied now, and needs repairing, gasped Mrs. Tiiis was sti It is but no one ran tell when land may be- | gin to •booin' there, and it may go off ing I • •But, Bertha, what do! vou want of j To what use can vou possibly put I I'm I've longed for it ever since v:e came away. Vou, yourself, say that I am not so well since leaving school, and it's only because I'm not ; out of doors enough. Some people j don't need the country; Ido." i • I think it a very, very »elfish plan," ]t said Mrs. Searles, decidedly. ''The idea of spending all that! money on an be old country house that w ill do you or us no good, nor anybody, for that mat ter." be 1 out of tuv reach. it? it?" "Live there. ••Let us hear what you have to say in favor of it;" and Mr. 'Searles leaned back with a resigned expression. "1 can't expect any of you to agree with me," said Bertha, looking and feeling hurt; "but it is not my fault if God lia» given me so strong a love for tlie country that I shall never lie happy j And I deny that it is selfish, | , v out of iL ï of my pet plans is to have a j pq lovelv place where you and the eliil- j dren could come and Stay any length j of time, free of board," and the eyes | behind the glasses could not sec for ! the tears standing in them. ! "There, never mind, dear," said her | father, soothingly; "Let us hear all | P d see her the we the up fur the plans. It sounds very quixotic and rash, hut common sense you always shown." ••Do you expect to live there? to leave us?" asked Mr. Searles. "That's what 1 want to do, at least in the summer. I do think I am old •(* will judge you by the have enough, and steady enough to strike out for myself a lût. If I married, you would have to let me go; why .not do so now? for I can come back to you at anytime, and maybe I couldn't if 1 were married, you know," and Bertha smiled as though this argument must Ponv i nPe them, ,. Y()U so fom| ,, f „aiming," con tinned lier mother, "whv not take this mo „ ev am , educatP you,-self in tl.at ,, ar ti e ular branch you have chosen? Ym , could d „ so mU eh with all that mon ov." i as •■I thought of that the very first thingreplied Bertha, j, Pa jtii might break down meanwhile, jg 0> j- d vat lier have tlie country and a lVw j know I can do better •■But mv so," ami she looked unconvinced. ■■But vour time," continued Mis. "What would vou do with N-avl "Paint and study, and raise chickens and vegetables too," added Bertha, "I'm afraid you are too sanguine," said her mother, shaking her head. "You will find it unbearably dull there IT." that? j larity. because you don't care for the country, Besides, we have friends in Kent, and it is not out of tlie world. I can come to the city for lessons. Oh! I know I'll not fail. I am not so used to lux ury that lean not accommodate myself to "a little poverty, and I would rather paint and live in the country, in the open air, with plain clothes and food, than to teach or do any tiling else here j with handsome clothes and other lux j uries. You know I long ago decided , • ,, f, j to make painting a profession, and witli tlie start l have, where could 1 " study better than where I am happy, s where my health is good, and where every llowor ami leaf, every bit of blue sky.'and every glorious sunset is paint e d bv God's own finger!" !l This was rather thrilling, if not | of strietly original, and Ella stared at '' her sister in surprise. What had happened to Bertha! Mrs. Searles ! looked sidewise at her daughter, while j father applauded the eloquence of tongue, and cheek, and eyes. -That's brave. Well, you have been i a dutiful daughter always, ami I will ] oppo«» r • i lit « what s what—so go ahead and come to . , 7 . ! i me if vou need advice. In accordance with lier father's ad vice Bertha determined to transact for ! herself all the In, »iness connected with j l her new enterprise; so she went to I gpp „d »» few days with a friend in Kent. , After manv visits to the owner of the j house, many letters to and .. her ï ,,. ■ agreement was made m | •> • ï which the place became hers. Jlienl j läge was not growing rapidly, anil ! there were no manufacturing industries to raise the price of land. Tile house had been untenanted for some time, and the owner was glad to lie rid of it for the sum of eight hundred dollars. Very proud and happy wsis Bertha when she returned home, after having ordered a few repairs on tlie house, se cured a man to make a garden in the spring, and attended to other necessary things. Well, how goes it with our 'lady of asked her father, jokingly. after the novelty has worn "Oh! no, mother. I do not expect to jump into a fortune, or into popu You can not look at it as I do. ! father, an property?' "Every tiling is splendid," replied Bcrlha. "And, father, you must help me by taking eggs and fresh vegeta bles of me when 1 get started. 1 won't charge any more than you would have to pay here, and it will be a sort of satisfaction to eat produce from my •farm' you know." "Oh! as for that," said Mr. Searles, easily, "I will engage to take all you send." of "Vmi don't look as though you be lieved in my garden, hut really, I nave had it started first-class; Mr. Tunnel is an old hand at it. Of course I know that o>v painting Is not such that I can live bv it alone." ••il N well for you to try your plan now, while you have a home to come j to should v^ fail;" said Mr. Searles, | smiling imffdulonsly. "But I will not fail," replied Bertha, or | determinedly, and her father could but. is | share her confidence somewhat, know- ! ing that -the will makes the way." I Then Bertha added, playfully: "I j j suppose the Princess must have a | dragon to guard her in her retreat. 1 I I'm not afraiè that any handsome | young Prince will come to carry this poor Princess, away, but Madame Cmndy is a sour old witch, and Pm a ; little afraid of her." j ••Yes, certainly," replied Mrs. i Searles. "You can not live there alone, ]t would'nt be pleasant nor safe. Prob ably there are many iu Kent who would be glad to come." "No, I shall try to find some one here who is tired of the city and would be glad of a good home in the country, 1 want company more than help. I'm sure there are plenty who would be glad of the chance, if I can only lay hands on them," sa'id Bertha, who was anxious to combine charity and pru This dpnP 'Phe fall passed, the holidays came, j and you can imagine Bertha's feelings | , v i, e rji9 published. her card j pq 0 f fame did not turn her head, how j PVP r, and as the winter passed she de j voted more time than usual to her | family, for she was to go to her new.. ! iiome in the spring. The weeks passed, ! Inisv with sewing and lessons in paint | uig, and one fine day in May she start | P d for Kent. Many friends came to see lier off 1 , for though they thought her foolish, quixotic, rash or brave, as the case might he, they all wished her we ll. ' Her companion was a pale, thin woman, who felt that the smell of ap ple-blossoms and the babble of brooks would bring strength to lier arm again ami the blood to her cheek. The train moved out from the station. Through the outskirts of the city, across the liver, on, on, beyond the noise, and smoke, and smell; through low mead ow-land, small towns, pretty villages, up the mountains, across rich farms, they rode. Mrs. Bowen's face grew brighter, and Bertha almost forgot to look at her beloved scenery as she watched her companion's eyes grow soft and tender. They arrived at Kent at noon. The house was some distance out of tlie village, but the day was so fine, and they had sat so long, that they wel comed the walk. The house was small and ordinarv and needing paint badly, but its surroundings were beautiful. About two acres of land belonged to Bertha, and part of this had been sown witli "garden truck," tlie rest with grass. There were some fruit trees, but through neglect these had become bar ren and thin. Altogether it did not present a very flourishing aspect, ex i cept that the gul den looked dainty and trim with its rows and patches of deli cate green, which would one day de light the hearts of the Searles family. For a few days Bertha roamed around as much as conscience and tlie spring mud would allow, taking in the fresh, sweet air and sunny pictures. Her stock of furniture was small, but one she fitted up daintily and airily, vas to he sitting-room, parlor and For the others she did nut care, except to give Mrs. Bowen n comfortable tied room and a pleasant kitçjfen. When Dame Fortune conde scended to smile a bit upon her she would furnish the whole house. , , When the rooms were fitted up she . , 1 1 " 1 1 own ° . , s lu e F ,ani alu ,. e ' e u ) ' , cheek rosy by feeding eh ekens, weed » al( c !* an< »un jn . * • »<*"«"• "hose h °« sc l!utles were W' 1 !l "'. c "'. " IS . ,, , , | of her ».me in the garten. nd be e '' lis 110 neei A P lt - eu ° ,l ) } m >f " "f *"' ! (,ime ? s ' l ^ 1 1 ' ' . j . Wp hoÄ'Ä" W ad«i 1 ,, , ® mo her up o "the fa.m. a, the, n ', d *£ t wo' weeks ..„ff" the entire family "camped out." as Ella called Jt, because furniture was , v u i„ ! scarce. I he children ran wild. Nobody . , . . . n . „ . i , '\ l,l <!l niuc • Jl !. ,l " ' . . 11 '' ani ni.u c i e ig i u e pi (- j l ;- l-H'-n'esque spots they had known to -''l 11 ' l '^2' , » •<'» September came. they left j el -• 11 iec '| IRI 1 . 1 J . pleasantest summer they had spenOn ,,. ■ years. Before leaving, Mr. Searles | •> , ï said, putting some bills into bis daugh , ' * " ® ! tl!l ' 1!l,u "• . !l ,usl it se of room This "studio. With brush delighted to spend much and can't, with a clear conscience, eat you out of house and home in this fashion. You have saved mo a good-sized board bill tiiis summer, besides making us feel more at home than would have been possible elsewhere. So 1 am glad to give the money into your hands. You may need it." The months passed. When, as was sometimes the ease, Bertha became a little homesick, she went to the city for a short visit. During these visits she improved her time by taking les sons and studying with her old 'teach er. In three years' time she had been called home, by illness or oilier cause, several times, leaving her house in tlie good care of Mrs. Bowen. Each sum mer brought the family to "the farm," which was improving yearly. It sup plied tlie family with vegetables; and eggs were sent to tlie city by the crate, for Bei tha made a specialty of chicken* raising, and found that it paid better than the garden. She loved chickens, and possessed the knack of making them lay well. Decorative painting was not then a "craze," as it lias since become, and the beautiful pieces of china and fancy work which slio took to town were novelties, and found ready sale because of the exquisite work upon them. Her pictures were more important, there fore slower work, and to them she gave of my be is can but. ! mich study. Occasionally she sold on-, for each was a charming bit of j scenery, taken from the "region round | iibjut her home. She might never 1 gr>w rich or famous in her art, hut | thit she would derive intense enjoy* im-nt, and. if willing to work hard and faithfully, would be able to gain a duple livelihood from it, there was no doubt. She bad undeniable talent, and her simple pieces had been highly commended by good authority. Whatever Bertha's plan was proving tiiancially, her friends could not deny that physically it was doing much for her. Never had she bloomed as she lloonied now. Healthy, happy ami busy, her energy was inspiring. One day in April, nearly four years rom the time she came to the coun ry, a telegram came from her mother, t said "We are in trouble. Come." Fearing all sorts of disasters, Bertha ook the first train to the city. When she reached home her mother met hei it the door and quietly led her up stairs. Mr. we and get Mr. one go. be in had to to to and my of "Bertha, your father lias failed again, after all these years!" "Tailed! and with no warning?" "He has been a little worried lately, but did not speak of any thing seriqus. lie is completely discouraged and un like himself—sits with his head in his hands, and eats nothing;" and poor Mrs. Searles broke down entirely, "But, mother, lias lie completely failed? in debt, tfnd all that?" asked Bertha, at a loss to account for this state of affairs, for her father's busi ness had been prospering finely, "No, that's the only bright spot. A sudden misfortune—what, I can not find out yet—came upon him. But it took every cent he had to meet the de ntand, and now we are penniless. He cannot raiso money, or work; but il is not like him to give up so. No, thank Heaven! we are not in debt." Taking off her tilings, and going down stairs, Bertha found her father I to to in the sitting-room. "Good afternoon, father," said she, cheerfully, touching his arm. Mr. Searles looked up, betrayed no surprise at seeing her, said "Good af ternoon,'' vacantly, and again clasped his head in his hands. "But, fallier, I've come home," said Bertha, again touching him. He looked up wearily. ••Home! We have no home. I've no money to pay rent!" A sudden inspiration seized Bertha. "Rent! no! but 1 have a home!" exclaimed she, clasping lier hands with a truly tragic gesture, and drop ping her glasses, while Mr. Searles looked up with a more natural ex pression. "That's just tlie thing. Why didn't you think of it! You must pack up and come home witli me!" Mr. Searles smiled feebly as tlie poor, near sighted eyes blinked at him. while the glasses swung unheeded at her side. All aglow with the idea, Bertha wrote a noto to tlie landlord, asking him to take the house oil' their hands, and then sat down to talk quietly with father mid mother. It was soon settled, and the next morning preparations began. Carpets taken up, packing-boxes ordered, good-byes said, and in a few days they were on the way to the country. "Now," declared Bertha, as she wel comed them to her home, "this is your home, and you must feel it so. Father, rest up for a few days, you need it sad We will furnish tlie house all through—wo have more than enough, but it will keep until you get on your feet again;" and relieved in body and mind, Mr. Searles sat down with his family to the hot supper Mrs. Bowen had ready for them. A few days of quiet and rest, then Mr, Searles left for the city. Now that his loved ones were safe he could go cheerfully on his search. After long days of working and waiting he suc ceed in finding a moneyed partner, who was glad of the name and credit of Thomas Searles to work with. Thus he entered business again. For the present, the family would stay with Bertha until lie could give them a homo as good as tlie one they had lost; hut he must run up to "tlie farm" with tlie good news. Of course there was gen eral rejoicing, and Bertha's eyes filled witli tears as her father said, with un usual tenderness in his voice; "Bertha, dear, 1 want to beg your pardon for every unbelieving word of mine in re gard to tiiis home of yours, God only knows what 1 should have done with out this retreat. Isay, •Three cheers for Bertha and for Bertha's farm.' Thank you, dear," and lie kissed her tenderly .—Mabel It. Beardsley, in N. V. Examiner. 1 e is were in iy a of to a a —Curry of Beef.—An excellent cur ry may be made of tlie lean part of tlie flank of beef. Cut one pound of the flank iu small pieces. Mince half an onion and put it in a pan on the lire with one ounce of blitter, or oil pre ferred. When the onion is brown add the pieces of meat and cook for twenty minutes, stilling constantly to keep from burning. Then pour half a pint of gravy or stock, or even hot water, in tlie pan, salt to taste, apd two tca i poonfuls of curry powder. Simmer for ono hour and serve in a ring of rice. —"Have you seen 'She?' " asked Johnny MeSwilligan of a youthful acquaintance. "Johnny," said his mother reprovingly, "is that tlie kind of grammar they teach you at school?" —Pittsburgh Chronicle- Telegraph. —"Economy is wealth," but tlie most economical person yet heard of is a shoo dealer in a small town in ■ho stops his clock when ho closes his store at night in order to save time .—Huston Budget. M-, MR. AND MRS. BOWSER. Mr. Dnwwr T*k»» » Turn Among Dry (iooU* »0(1 Crockery Store«. I had mentioned in a casual way that we needed solle dishes, a new carpet, and some table linen, and that I must get down town and buy them, when Mr. Bowser came home at two o'clock one afternoon and said : "Well, are you all ready?" "For what?" "\frhy, to go down and buy those things. "But I didn't know you wanted to go. Indeed, I wish you wouldn't" "Oh, you do! Are you ashamed to be seen with me on the street?" '•You know I'm uot I'm afraid you —you "Well, what? "You'll jaw folks and get into a quarrel." "Mrs. Bowser, are you getting soft in the head? .Jaw folks! Get into a quarrel! Humph! Are you coming?" We first visited the carpet store. 1 had not yet made up my mind whether to buy brussels or velvet, nor whether to get light or dark colors. 1 expected to take a chair and have the clerk roll down about fifty pieces of eaeli kitiil, and to be all of two hours making, up my mind, chairs for us. window curtains, and a third inquired of Mr. Bowser: "Did you wish to look at some car pets?" One clerk ran to ] bice A second arranged the "Did I come up hero to buy oys ters?" demanded Mr. Bowser. "Ah—uni! Light or dark colors?" "Light." "But the dark are all the style, you know." "I don't know any thing of the sort! There are plenty of white horses and houses, mid white shirts and hats; and I don't know why light carpets shouldn't he fashionable. Roll down tliis piece. "Yes, sir; but you won't like it. This dark pattern is what Mrs. Governor Smith selected for her front bed-room." "Yes. Well, I may get that for my horse barn later on. Send up a man to measure the room, and give me that light pattern." "Why, Mr. Bowser!" I said, haven't selected already ?" "Certainly." "But we—we—'' , "Five minutes : s enough for anyone to select a carpet, Mrs. Bowser, want body-brussels, and we want a light ground. That's all there is to it. We will now go over mid buy the table linen." "But can't I haye time to look around ?" "Time ! What do vou want of time ? 'You We You want three linen table-cloths and two dozen napkins. Wç've got the money to pay for 'em. What more is desired ?" "But it's so sudden." "So are earthquakes. We'll go in here. We entered a dry-goods store and sat down to the linen counter. A young man came forward to wait on us, and after being told what was wanted, lie queried : "So you want some real linen. Well, here is something 1 can recommend." "Is that all linen ?" "Yes, sir." "Is it ?" asked Mr. Bowser, as he turned to me. I didn't think it was, but I told Mr. Bowser to let it go. It was the custom in all dry-goods store to lie about such tilings and no one thought of raising a row. "Madame," said Mr. Bowser, as he took the cloth over to a motherly old lady, "is this all linen?" "No, sir, it's half cotton!" she re plied, after an inspection. "Where's the proprietor of this store?" he demanded of tlie clerk. "I—I'll oall him. sir." Tlie proprietor came up. "Is that linen?" asked Mr. Bowser. "It passes for linen, sir." "If you put a cow's horns aud tail on a horse, he'd pass for a cow, wouldn't lie? Sir, this looks to me like a petty swindle, and one you ought to be ashamed of!" The proprietor began to blow up tho clerk, and the clerk said lie'd resign, and as we got out-doors I penned Mr. Bowser into a doorway and said: "I'll never, never dare enter this store again!" "Don't want you to. The man is n liar and the clerk lied by his instruc tions. We'll try another." The next store was crowded and as we reached tho linen counter it was to find every stool occupied, I tried to get Mr. Bowser out, anticipating trou ble, but unfortunately at that moment one lady observed to another: "Dear me, hut tiiis is the third after noon I've come down town to buy a table-cloth, and haven't got suited vet," "And I want four crash towels and I've been all over town twice," replied the other. "Here you!" snapped Mr. Bowser to the clerk, "are you busy?" "Waiting on these ladies, sir." "Have they bought any thing?" "No, sir." "Are they going to?" "I— I don't know." "Well, I'vo no time to fool away. We want three linen tabie-elolhs.und two dozen napkins." Tlie ladies arose in great indignation. Each one of them gave me a look that pierced me to tlie heart, and each ono gave Mr. Bowser a look which ought to liavo shortened him two foet, but which had no apparent effect. In seven minutes we had found what we wanted, paid the bill, and were ready to go. The clerk acted a lilt sulky, and Mr. Bowser was getting ready to give him a blast, when I appealed to him to hold hii peace. I told him It was the eu»» tom for several thousand ladies to corn# down town every afternoon to shop, ami that shopping consisted of prom enading up and down to show their suits off to a lot of well-dressed loafers, and entering the stores and taking an hour and a half to buy a sixpence worth of lace or ribbon. The clerk melted a little at the same moment, and 1 got Mr. Bowser out without another erup tion. "Now for the dishes." he said as we got out, ami we went to a crockery store. My heart sank as I saw the place crowded with ladies. We halted be side one who was saying to a clerk : "And so that tooth-pick holder is six cents ?" "Only six, madame." "How very cute !" "Yes, it is." "And it is imported ?" "It is." "How very, very charming ! This if the one I saw yesterday, is it ?" "Oh, certainly." "Dear me, but I wish I could make up my mind whether to take it or not. You see, we may move in the spring, and if we moved, you know—" "I want about iifteen dollars' worth of dishes." interrupted Mr. Bowser. "Yes, sir, iu just a moment." "How many of those tooth-pick hold ers have you got ?" "Only live." "I'll take the lot; and now comenml wait on me. I want twelve cups and saucers, twenty-four plates, three or four platters, two turoous and a fish platter." The lady turned about and killed ni6 dead with one long look. Then she looked at the back of Mr. Bowser's neck and tried to murder him, hut he would not fall. Then she returned and killed me over again, and gave her shoulders a twist and walked out of the store. She had hardly departed when a fresh arrival asked our clerk, busy though he was, to show lier some teaspoons. "Madame," said Mr. Bowser, "do you wish to buy some spoons? "Perhaps." "Do you know whether you do or not ?" "Why—I—I will look at them. "Very well; you sit down and wait until I am through buying. I came to buy, know what 1 want, and shall pay cash down." I was killed again, and if looks could have crushed Mr. Bowser, he'd have been a mangled corpse in ten seconds. We were only thirteeen minutes buy ing the dishes, and as we got out and reached tlie car, Mr. Bowser said: "Mrs. Bowser, when you come down town do you go fooling around the stores and obstructing doorways and. crosswalks like tlie women we have seen to-day?" "I—I guess I do." , "And end up by buying four cents worth of something?" "Yes; it is the custom." "And would it have taken you three weeks to buy wlmt we bought iu two hours?" "Yes, sir." "Then I'll write this Very day to au idiot asylum and see if I can squeeze It's no wonder every other you in! home in Detroit is full of scandal, anil every other husband wants a divorce!" — Détruit Free Press. NOISY, GENEROUS BOYS. With All Their Faults him! Shortcoming« We Love Them Still. God bless tho boys! They need a mother's prayers, and tears, and thoughts, to help them—tlie noisy, clumsy, generous, fun-loving boys, wlio slum the door when your head aches, leave their tools on the floor for you to pick up, pinch the kittens' tails to make a little more noise, and kick the other hoys under the table at dinner time, yet are ready to walk a mile in the rain to get you a plant or a doctor, and will sit up at night to keep fires burning to make poultices, if any tiling is the matter with any member of the household. How sensitive they are to a word of blame, and tlie tongue of young America runs away with bis discretion, but let another fellow say the same words of his mother and sis ter, and won't lie pitch into him? 1 once hoard a boy say to his mother, "That's a lie!" when down in his own conscience lie knew site was speaking the truth. I know she was cut to the heart by the uunmnly, unboyish words and tones, and I thought it would be a good thing to gel some other boy to say the words to her, and see what he would do. I am qiflto sure he would knock him down, and quite sure, too, that lie would deserve it God bless the boys ! How hard they arc to manage aright, how quick to re sent a fancied slight, aud jealous of their rights. But otic has to remember, with all their faults, that they are in a transition state, that the "surplus steam" must bo worked off, and, thank God, that is not to he done by evil methods. Patience, then, mother, there is hope that the noisy lads will learn by battling with the world, that a mother's heart is really their homo— that; a mother's love never fails—and when trials oomo that lier constant,, patient affection endures through tho darkest hour—and how well the poet know this when he wrote— I remember the gleams and gloom« that d»rt Across the schoolboy's brain. The song and tho silence of tho head. That In part are prophecies—and in part Are longings wild and vain ; And the voice of that pitfnl song Btngs on and never Is still. "A bov's will Is the wind's will. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." — M'onio/i's Magazine. —A fast young, man may go nil tho gaits, but one's enough when liis best girl on the other side of it. —(Vibe.