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VOLUME 1." NEWTOWN, CONN., OCT. 4, 1877. NUIBER 1C5.
JOHN T. PEARCE, Editor and Manager. Subscription Price, SI. 00 A Year.
rVBLUBKD ITIWT TIICUDAY,
AT NEWTOWN, FAIRFIELD CjUNTY, CONN.
A. tt. tow,
ftit'r amt rrajt'r.
JSaittr and Mmm'r.
XsLacrlutiou Price, H.00 A Year.
.u AOVBUTIUSU KATES.
Iwk. Iwke. liuo. 8laos. 6moe.
I look, , .74
I lull, 1 54
1-4 Oul SOU
1-2 Col 3.00
1 Col 4 00
Upoclal Notice,Tou Cento par llue Brat, and
Fi Cents for each subsequent lusortiou.
Transient advcrtmug payable iu advance. No
dead-beat advertising taken. Yearly advertise
menu payable at the end of each quarter. Pro
fessional and Busineaa Cards ito occupy not more
than five lines $5.00 a year. Regular yearly ad -vortisers,
whose bills amount to $10 or over, will
receive the paper lreo.
MatleOpen: From the South, 11.20 a. m. and
.oor.M. Frornthc North, 12.00m. ends. 00 p. a.
Mails cloaeiUoina North, 10.30 a. m. and 4.44
p. If. doing boutk, at 11.24 A.M. and 4.44 p. M
2 B. 1'KCK, P.M.
Teiiott CntracH. Main Street, llev. Newton E.
Marble, if. I)., rector, tterviee. 10. So A. at. bun
day School, 12 M. Aitenioou service, at 1.
CoMousoA-rioNAi. Ma.n Street, llev. James P.
Hoyt, pastor. Services 10.30 a. m. buuday School
11,44 A. at. Afternoon Services, 1 p. m.
Catholic: Main Street, Hev. Father McCurton
pastor, berviuee, 10.14 a. m. buuday bcliool,
12.30 t. M. ,
Oun Bhamch Juvenile Tkxple xo 11. Pub
lic meeting every (Sunday afternuou at 6 o'clock,
lu South Centre School rumae, ofliceie; lire b N
lieera, supt, Miss M F Peck, txc, ,
Dr. PATatca'a Tempehai.ce Society Kev. rath
er James McCartan President, Joun Mooney Vice
Preaident, Tuoaias au Secretary, Patrick Cain
Nkwtowb Llubabt Ahsociation. K. L. John
aon Preaident, Charles Beroaford Vice Preaident,
At. F. Feci Secretary and Treaaurer.
U. P. pjfc.CU;, Librarian.
Methodist. Rov James Taylor, pastor. Ser
vices,' 10.30 a. M., 1.30 and . si. auuday
school li.45 a. at. Prayer meeting Thursday
venina Hr. a.
Sr. John's Chapel.-Eev. Francis W. Bar
neit aasistaut minister. Services 1 P.m. Sunday
School 12 M.
Gbabitz Lodok Independent Obdeb of Good
Templabs: maei In hall over H. L. Wlieeler'a
Fumlture Wareroom every Friday evening. Offi
cers, 1. P. BlaeJunan, W. C. T, Mrs. W. W. Per
kins, W. V. X, Christian Beahler, W. 8., aire. .
A. Bennett, W. F. ., Jars. H. L. Wheeler, W.
T, Win. B. Terrill, W. M , Miss N. A. Judeon,
W. I. ., MissEliaS. Pock, W. O. G, John p.
Oriilin, P. w, T.
Hibam LOBOl, No 18, F. A. M. Meet in Ma
aonic UaU, 1st and 3d W ednesdl j's of each mouth.
Ollicers: Wm. I Kandford, W.VI1, John Suudford.
br. Wn Homers Croluu Jr. W., James A. Wilson
uec't. H. i,. vvneeler, ireaa ana Chapn., wm.
Ackley, Sr. Dea., Cheater Hard, Steward, A. W.
Rotal ABca Chaps-bb. Meet Second Thursday
oi eacn lnontn. in Masonic rluil. Ulucere: tieo.
Vv'otatndeu, U. P., H. L. Wheeler, E., James M.
ZtUckuiau, Sciib., Wm. I. bauford, 0 of H-, Jaa
A- Wilson, P. S..O. A. Hough, B. A. C.
Alpha Jutknii.e Temple No 1. meet in Lodee
Itoum over Furniture btore, every Sunday after
noon, at 4.30 o'cioce. Alias juia reck, upc. a w
Perkins, W C I.
tNewtown Sl Woodbury Stage Line.
Leaves Woodbury at 7.30 a. m., bonthburr at
S.So a.m., bouth Britain at a a.m., Beuuett'a
Bridire at a. So a. m., Berkshire at 10 a. m.. baudr
Hook at 10.30 a. ni. arriving at Newtown to meet
the 10.47 a.m. Up Train, and lea vea for Wood
bury on the arri'-al of the 11.40 a. in. Uowu Tiaiu,
and arrives at Woodbury at 3 p. in., the same time
aw the Woodbury and Ueymour stage.
tiliOKUia AXLKli, Proprietor.
XtwUrnn, Aug. 2d,ls;7.
I offer my services to the traveling pub'ic, and can
be iound at alt mes ready to convey passengers to ai.d
from the Derot, or to bandy Wool, aod -Newtown bt.
Charges modet ate. Remember tbe "G.'vern.ir,"
GEORGE kEBSTON E.
Time Table. To take eft July 10, 1S7T
Trains Leave JTnoUivm oin) Jforlh, 10.47
Sl. I .45 l.iu 4. -Sand 7.04 u. iu. 10.47 a.
aud 4.20 p. m. trains connect at Brudahuld Juno-
tioa with 'trains for baubuiy.
Going South, 6.15 and 11.40 a. m., 9.05 and 7.35
p. in. miuuay a raw, p. iu.
JVatat Leave HawlegtiUt Going AorfA, 10.57 s
s m., 1.20 3.24 4.40 aud 7.20 p.m. 10 a 7 a. m.
and 6.40 p. m. trains uuuueut at Drookneid J one
Cioa with trains fuv Ltaabury - - .
Ooina SoulK S.05 and 11.30 a. a., 4.45 and 7.20
p. in. ounday Milk Train, 7.30 p In
jrjij ptopaiijr Railroad.
AEaANOBliENT OF TKAIN8, commencing
August 13, 18.7.
r-MMflVaa TraimM aM ffeviowm at 10.47 a. m
and 4. 20p.m. Arrive at lutchneld 2.20 aud 7.5
p. m. Saturday an additional Connection a.
made by Xraiu paaviua; Siewtown at 7.b4 p id..
with Train arriving at Litchfield at 10.00 p. m.
AVaoaa LUckUld ml a.34 a. m. Monday. L it a.
Xft.1 aud a. 80 p m , arriving at llawleyrillt 11.30
a. m. (MiuMiaya 9.10 a. m.) and 7.03 p.m., coa
aeeuug with traiua on Hoastttonie R. &
AusoViy JfiU: Train learn Lab htleld 4. 49 p. an.
and coauiecta witti Hooaatonie Milk Train.
C. li. PiiATT, Supt
The 3Icndow Spring.
"Lauretta llarblmll, wbero liara you
Tbre wu a despairing emphasis In
Mrs. Marshall's Tulce. 8 lis bad let fall
the towel with which ilio wu wiping
tbe tea cups, and stood a picture of cou
steruation and dcspulr.
"Only down to the spring mother."
"liut look at I hut brau new lawn dress,
torn half off you."
"The brier hushes did It."
Tuuglrl did look rather wofully at
the pretty drew half destroyed, hut hud
a Hashing, uiiacliievoua, sweet liitle luce
thul could, not stay long in ehuduw.
"JSever uiind, Ket ; couio here and tell
me whut year I bought the while heifer
in," said Mr. Marshall, who stood at a
desk in the corner making out his quar
Mrs. Mai shall picked up her towel,
murmuring despairingly us the girl turn
ed toward her father.
Two years hist May, father. It was
he year 1 wus fourteen," said itet, look
ing over her father's work with hia hand
on her shoulder.
He turned his head and kissed her.
"Nice child," he said, approvingly.
"Nice child 1" exclaimed Mrs. Mar
shall, exasperated. "As if her remem
bering about the cuttle was or naif as
much consequence as her tearing her
dress all to pieces the dress I But up till
eleven o'clock lust night to finish. Thoni
as Marshall, what do you suppose will
ever become of that girl of yours f "
Mrs. Marshall always shifted the re
sponsibility of the children upon her
husband when they showed any Bignsot
moral depravity. So Thomas Marshall
looked ud at "that girl of his." She
was a pretty sight with her hat tipped
sidewuy on her curly head, her hulf pout
ing, half-smiling rosy little mouth, and
her soft, sloe-black eyes turned appeal-
iiiKlv upon her father's face. He slbiled
upon his girl. He couldn't help it.
'What were you doing down at the
spring, Ret f" he said gently.
Hath was telling me the legend the
legend of the spring, you know, father."
'Where is Iiathburu, and whut is the
legend of the spring, daughter ?"
Why, he said that ever so many years
ago a girl came down me paiu turougu
the woods, with a pitcher on her head.
to get some water at tbe spring. When
she dipped ll$ pitcher in the spring, she
saw her face in the water, aud she said
to herself :
" ' Who ever my true love is to be,
Let him look into this spring with me.'
And when she was doing that there was
a young lord from England riding by
on horseback. He saw the girl looking
in the water, aud was curious to know
what she was looking at. So he got off
his horse and came softly and looked in
the spring beside her. There be only
saw her face, but it was so pretty that
he fell in love with her, und afterward
idbi ried her. And Kalh says that ever
since, if two young people look in that
spring together, they will surely marry
"Stuff and nonsense I" exclaimed Mrs.
Marshall. "X should like to know, Ket,
if hearing such Billy stories as that is
worth tearing your dress for V
But Thomas Marshall laughed.
"I'll risk the girl, Sarah," he said
while Bet went out at the door. "I'll
risk her while she'll tell her father the
love stories she hears. She'd better tear
her dress than break our hearts with se
cret ways. Brother John's girl you
The mother bowed her head in silence,
uud said uo more.
Ket stood in the porch watching her
brother Huthhurn come down the hill.
There wus some one with bim, and
w hile she was trying jiurd to make out
who it was, "some oue" was as earnestly
observing her. He sa'w iu the porch of
au old brown, vine-shaded house on a
hill, a littie figure in a pink lawn dress,
very badly torn, and with a straw hat
shading a face that was evidently fair,
whiles muss of bruuze curls, swept to
one side, fell over a bare, white shoul
"What little fairy is that. Rath V ie
'My sister, ' replied ltatlibarn Mar
shall, proudly. "Yon shall have her,
Max,'.' he added confidentially.
They had been collegians together,
Rath Marshall and Max Kinjsley. Max
was iust from Europe. The friends had
met for the first time for four years.
"Is that the little Ret you used to tell
about V askdl Max, for they bad been j
great confidants to old times.
Yes. She was twelve then, she is
sixteen now She's a darling, Max I"
"1 think it likely. Aud I may have
"Yes j if you cau get bor."
"Thuuk you, old boy."
The next moment they passed in at
tbe door from which Ret bad disappear
ed, and to his parents Rath announced:
"My old college friend Max Klngsley ;
come to rusticate among us for a week
It was a frank, good face which the
old people looked at a face they were
willing to admit to their fireside. Ret
came down from ber room in a more
presentable dress, and was introduced.
That evening Rath repealed again, for
Max's amusement the legend of the
meadow spring. .
The next morning a June sunrise
flushed the sky at four o'clock. Max
Kinguley awoke, and, aroused by the
novelty of arising at that lime in the
morning, got up, dressed uud went out-
of-doors. Early as it was, a boy was
driving u drove of cuttle to the maiket
down the long, brown rood, while tbe
birds were chorusing in the woods, und
the flowers of the fields were all wide
awake. He crossed the road and went
slowly over the meadows.
"The grass was drenched in dew,
The lragrant air blew through
The honeysuckle brunches
That waved about the porch."
Half-knee high in the wet clover, he
looked back at the house, half bid in
honeysuckles and morning glories, to see
if there were any signs of Rath or Ret.
Was Ruth's pretty sister an early riser ?
He wished she wus, and. would share his
walk with him.
He came to a brook slipping softly
through the meadows, and turning, com
menced following It to its source, walk
ing through the marsh mallows and
whit! clover around a knoll, where he
found some rare golden violets, and on
to a birch wood.
Suddenly he heard the shouting and
laughter of young ringing voices. Going
on quietly, be came suddenly to an open
ing, and this scene met his eye as be
stood concealed by the bushes.
Ret and her little brothers were swing
ing on the birches. (And Ret was six
teen years old I) Max Kingsley's blue
eyes shone with amusement. As his
glance fell upon them, Ret was climbing
from limb to limb of an old oak tree,
not being able, probably, to ascend to
the top as did her brother. In fact,
Ret couldn't "shin up," but could come
down gradually, which she did in Max's
sight. High up among the oak boughs,
tbe pretty little hoyden grasped she tip
of the birch, which, young and lithe,
bent slowly with her weight, and down
to the ground she descended most royally.
Releasing the tree, it sprang back to its
That was grand.Charlie !"'she exclaim
ed to the bare footed little urchin who
was industriously "shinning up" a tall
You'd better not let Ruth or that Mr.
Kingsley see you !" punted Charlie, half
The girl gave a guit k look round
"I don't Care for Mr. Kingsley," she
said, swinging a bunch of columbine,
which filled the air with its fragrance.
"You would if you knew what Rath
told him," answered Charlie, tugging
"What was that Charlie?"
Charlie, nearly to the top, gave one
more writhe of bis supple little body and
suddenly dropped his weight from his
huuds, ilie tree bent und swung him
down to the ground. When hiB little
brown feet touched the sorrel, he let go
aud the birch lunged back. Charlie
contemplated his burning bunds, doubt
ful if they were good for another. Ret
caught him by the shoulder.
' What did Hath say !"' she cried.
"That Mr. Kingsley might have you,
answered Hie boy.
Ret s pretty face flamed.
"Rath hud tetter mind his own affairs
and 1 halt Mr. Kingsley 1"
Max commenced whistling, and then
came slowly sauntering around the
sumacs and elderbury bushes. Sud
denly he appeared to catch sight of the
group Ret and Charlie side by side,
uud Charlie chewing birch bark, while
Henry, the youngest, was gathering puff
bulla, acoius, or pine cones from the
ground. . . ,
Max lifted his hat. Ret, with her
fragrant wand, and her pretty face a
little paled by excitement, faoed him
like a fairy wraith.
"A fine morning," he said, taking no
notice of her flnshine eyct "Miss Ret
und boys, 1 thought I was the earliest
riser In the bouse, but you, I see, have
beaten me. How fragrant these birch
woods are I Charlie, you know the
secret of tbe bark, don't you T I used
to cbew it In school and get thrashed
Charlie's boy heart was won immed
iately. He forgt all about the secret he
bad overheard, and which seemed to
prejudice bis sister so against Max.
With bim and Henry the guest Instantly
became a fuvorlte.
But Ret was another Nemesis. Hardly
speaking to Max, she turned around and
walked home. Aud henceforth careless,
merry, romping Ret was changed to a
maidenly young lady.
Mrs. Marshall rejoiced in the change,
but Ruthburn hardly considered it an
improvement when he found that Ret
seemed to hold him no longer in confi
dence, and his friend not at all in fuvor.
Iu vain Max Kingsley tried to win
her countenance at leuBt. She would
hardly look at him would never smile
upon him wus barely civil, and stately
as a young Diana. In vain he excercis
ed the power of an Orpheus proved
himself an Ajux of bravery, a Calchas
of wisdom, uu Arion of refined tastes,
and an Eacusof piinciple und natural
nobility. Ret wouldn't be wooed and
Bo a fortnight passed away.
At last came the time tor Max King
sley's return. He had long ago made
his way to the hearts of the old people.
They were sorry to have him leave.
Charlie and Henry wtre bitterly grieved
at his departure, and declared it a
burning shame'' thut he should go be
fore the chestnuts were ripe.
Rath came over to the window where
Ret wus slauding.
"Ret, ain't yon sorry to have Max go
away ?" he said, in a low voice.
"No," she said, briefly, and turned
and walked out of the room. But some
thing in her face made Ruth's eyes flush.
He turned quickly to Max.
"Go find her," he whispered.
Max went to the door. Ret had gone.
He saw ber little figure winding in uud
out through the shrubbery of tbe mead
ows. She was walking fast.
He followed her, so far behind that
she did not hear him, and keepiug from
sight, iu cuee she should look back. On
he went over the clover and mallows,
past the knowl where the golden violets
grew, and through the birches. Pussiug
through the wood, she sprung over the
silent, winding little brook, and knelt
down by the meadow spring. Mux
thought it place fit for tbe betrothed of
fairies. The sunshine fell on the golden
sand beneath the crystal water, and the
wild pink roses growing beside it were
reflected in it.
Ret knelt down by the spring. Was
she repeating the charm of the place ?
Max stole nearer. He was close ut her
Bide at last, and she did not see him.
Bending over, his face was reflected iu
the water, and then he saw what Ret
was doing. She was bathing away the
tears, or trying to. for they fell us fast
as she bathed away their traces.
Oh, dear ! oh dear 1" she sobbed, as
if Ler heart were breaking.
Suddenly she caught sight of Max's
face iu the waler.aud stopped breathless.
Then she turned ber astonished, tearful
face upon him. The young man broke
into a low, mery laugh.
Ret, Ret," he said, "there Is no use
in you repulsing me any louger. Fate
has taken the matter in hand. We have
looked together in the meadow spring,
and you must marry me.
For some reason of course it was the
work of the charmed place Ret made
no more objections.and when Ruth came
to find them, two hours later, he dis
covered Ihem happily betrothed. So
much for the meadow spring.
The Trifler's Victim.
Slowly tolled the deep-toned bell of
the church of M. Louis, while iruui be
neath its massive arches issued forth a
long funeral procession. By the coffin,
covered with white satin, and blazing
with ricb silver plates, tbe snow-white
plumes of the bearse with its draperies
of spotless white, and by the four young
girls, who, dre?Bed in white, and wear
ing long white veils reaching to tbe
ground, each holding in her hand one of
the four white ribbons attached to the
cofBu, might be known that she whom
they were bearing to ber last resting
place was youug, while the long train of
carriages that followed bore ample lesti
owny to the wealth and rank of the de
Ceased. The priests clad in their long
scarlet tunics, and bearing aloft blazing
torches, their company headed by the
Rev. Father Antonio de Fedella, passed
along two by two, chanting tine mUerere.
Slowly the procession wound round the
rue St. Limit, aud then proceeding iu a
long, unbroken line, entered the ceme
tery where the coffin was deposited in
the splendid marble vault of the Pascal
family, when the priests slowly chanted
tho "requiaicattyi pace," aud the circled
crowd recovering their heads, left the re
mains of Adele Pascal, the young, the
beautiful, In their last resting-place.
Born of wealthy parents, their cher
ished idol, at the same time the darling
and pride of her only brother, gratified
in the indulgence of every wish, and
perfected in every acconiplifhment,Adele
Pascal shone the acknowledged belle of
every social circle. One of tliose enltm
siastic beings who could never be feat is
fied with a divided atTection, sensitive
aud retiring in her nature, yet withal
gay and sportive us a child, "to Bee her
wus to love her."
Such was Adele Pascal at the lime her
parents received a letter from her broth
er Charles, then in New Haven, begging
permission to invite his friend, Henry
Selborne, to accompany him on his re
turn to Louisiana. The permission was
willingly granted, and soon the two
young men arrived at Sycamore Grove,
u beautiful Summer residence of the Pas
cal family on the banks of the Mississippi.
During Charles Pascals four years ub
sence within the wulls of old Yale, Hen
ry Selborn waB his bosom friend aud the
chosen repository of all his joys und sor
rows. Selborn was talented and oblig
ing, and having received that matter-ot-lact
education which most New KuglaBu-
ers give their sons that kind of training
which tits them to act well their part on
life's stage he soon posseesed himself of
the warm friendship of the fruuk-heart-
ed Creole, to whom bis society became
indispensable. When we add to his oth
er qualifications to please, a fine person,
and peculiarly wiuuing manners, we no
longer wonder that one so gentle as
Adele, soon owned to herself that Syca
more Grove would be insupportabiy dull
when he was gone.
In general Selborne's attentions to
Adele were marked with a frankness
that would have prevented any less sus
ceptible than herself from thinking that
be loved her, but she, poor girl I thus
construed them, und soon he became to
her, society, friends, the world.
Oh 1 could men but know how often
their uttentious (slight though they be)
are so translated by our sex coulu they
but see tbe agony of hopes raised but to
be wrecked could they note the flushed
cheek, the quivering lip, the "pulses
muddeniug play" when a compliment is
paid by them, to which, perhaps they at
tuch no meaning, or they could on the
other hand, see the pillow wet with tears
where a sleepless night had followed a
slighting word, an a cried look or an
exclaunuion of admiration lor another
at a time when thoir long continued at
tentions hud made tlie kHuusiicm of sucU
uo longer a uialler of Uoubl they would
hesitate, uor in luturejict the tritler's
Often a look or a word casually spoken
by Selborne would afford Adele hope
and happiness, at d aguiu au averted look
or an unmeaning titiennou ocaioneu
upon another, tortured her sleepless pil
low with doubts whether her love was
returned. Could she lia,ve seen that it
was but his accustomed gallantry, she
would have known that he had uo heart
Thus days glided into mouths, and
still Selborne lingered at Sycamore
Grove, a Welcome visitor, while Adele,
pleased with the dangerous proximity,
lavished her whole wealth of love on
him when she wus aroused from her
dreaui of happiness by Selborne hurried
ly informing liictu that he had just re
ceived letters urging his immediate re
turn to the i.oith. Alusl for Adele's
hopes! So closely enwoveu hud her
passion lor him become with every
Ihought, that the idea of separation had
never occurred as possible, and now the
thought was more bitter than death.
When Selborne had been absent about
two months, her lirother received a letter
from him, dated at Saratoga, w here he
said he bad met with an old fhune of his
buvish davs. Miss Dash fort, a New
Haven belle, a young lady whom Char
les described as being wealthy and ex
tremely beautifuL From this nour the
onhappiness of Adele began. Hitherto
tbe spoiled -child of fortune, her whole
life had been as a bright Summer dream.
Sorrow by name alone she knew. Now
ber mind was filled with a strange ui.-
enainess. turmented by fears (tint "fieii
Subdued her to tears. Then ngrtiti !ic
would hope on, ami love deeper anl
deeper, as the sweet reflection came that
bright days might yet be In store for
her. And blissful anticipations of his
return, of again meeting with him after
so much sorrow and foreboding, would
steal over her saddened soul, dispelling
all gloom, all doubt, all sadness. Those
only who have had their dearest hopes
darkened, and aguiu suddenly ro-lllumcd
can reulize the wild excitement with
which Adele heard of Selborne's approch
ing return to Louisiana.
He came to New Orleans ; but oh I tho
agony, the despair of the fond-trusting
Adele. ale biought one with him who
enjoyed that nume and place which
Adele had so fondly hoped would be hers
His wife ! the sound rang in 'her ears,
the death knell of all ber hopes. She
heard of the beuuty and accomplishments
of Mrs. Selborne, his bride ; but ber
wnrni heart's aspirations haJ been crush
ed, and, by the deadly paleness of her
cheek, alone might be read that the sun
of her earthly happiness had set.
As Autumn approached an alarming
cough was noted by her physician as tho
premonitory of consumption, for such
was her malady miscalled by those who
understood not that other disease a bro
ken, heart ; and in less than two months
the tiifler's victim had passed from this
to another and a happier world. Alas 1
for the bitter requital too often given for
a woman's love.
Sagacity of a Connecticut Dog,
Our neighbor Chauncey Hart has a
dog that is remarkable for his apparent
knowledge of the English language, it
his owner's statement about the dog n
true and as to veracity there is no quca
lion. Mr. Hurt is a blacksmith by trade,
and lias au acre or so of land which he
cultivates, aud during the season of hoe
ing he rises at about four o'clock in the
morning to subdue the weeds. . His dog
is always with him. When the time ar
rives for waking a fire to prepare the
morning meal, Mr. Hart goes into the
house, makes the fire, and says to the
dog, "Go call your mistress."' He goes
immediately to the bedroom and wakes
her. If she does not notice the call, the
dog will pull tbe clothing off the bed,
and will not leave until she gets tip. If
Mr. Hart sees a pack-peddler coming,
he says to the dog, "Carlo, there is a
pack-peddler coming." He will stait off
at once, and prevent his coming on to
On another occasion Mr. Hart walked
over to a neighbor's house just as the
neighbor came home with some bones ho
had procured for his chickens und threw
tbem out of his wagon. Carlo got one
of them and brought it near where they
were talking. When Mr. Hart saw it he
said, "Carlo, that bone don't belong to
you ; go carry it back where you found
it, and go home." Carlo curried the bone
back to the place where he got it, trotted
off about ten rods toward home and sat
down waiting for his master. The neigh
bor also had a dog of about the same
size that was iu hearing. Seeing Carlo
where he had sat dowu, the other dog
picked up the bone und carried it to
within a lew feet of Carlo; there he laid
it down and cume back a little viay. Af
ter waiting a while and seeing that Carlo
did not lake it, he placed it a little near
er, came back as btfore, aud waited for
Carlo to tuke it : but Carlo would not.
The third time the hone was placed near
er very close to him this time but he
would not touch it, but sat there until
Mr. Hart went home. When . he came
up to where the dog was sitting he said,
"Carlo, you may have that bone now. 11
The dog immediately picked it up and
carried u home. Nothing was said to
cither dog but the order to carryback the
ooue. nut ootu uogs seemed to know
what was said; the visited dog was de
termined that Carlo should accept the
proffered bone as u pledge of iiiendslim
and as a hospitable entertainment Vit-
wntvie (Conn) Letter to Hartford Timet.
Giving Advica. .'
Advice is a first-rate thing when the
person knows whut he or she is talking
aoout. liut there a.c volumes of advice
uud council !.!; are utterly useless, be
cause it is simply the result of an uncon
trollable de-ue to say something what,
makes no difference. Advice, to be
wurth anything, needs to be matured in
the mind before it is uttered. It is alto
gether belter, however, as a rule, to at
tend to your business and let other peo
ple's alone, unless you are invited iu in
terfere. Public men are especially the
victims of tbe advice given. All men
and women in the world think them
selves fi led upon to give a man who
happens lo he in public life a sort of ad- .
vice, seeming entirely to tone sight of the
very uuriaiit fact that auy who has
mind eiwugli ! altr ict any considerable
.-hare l puldie attention probably has
cu.Migh lo uian g- liia owa atfairs. Get
jvUT i u aiiairs iu good shape and keep
Ihem in n and do but waste so much uf
hie in luuking alter other people.