Ligonier Banner., Volume 13, Number 50, Ligonier, Noble County, 3 April 1879 — Page 7

@he Ligonier Banner, LichiaE, oA,

UNCLE JACK’S STORY. It is not much of a story in itself, nevertheless [ love to tell it, and perhaps it is because 1 have toldit so many times and that it is true that it makes 80 great an impression upon me. However, {\‘Jguﬂshall hear the story. My Nephew Philip wrote me that he was tired of roaming about the world, .and as he expressed it, was going to visit his good old uncl¢ once more and then settle down to business. Philip ‘was a good boy and I always felt proud of him. : About the same time my Sister Judith, who is the remaining part of my family, received a letter from a young lady friend saying that she was also coming to see us and make a good long “visit. Being an old man, you know, I will have my joke, and when Judith read Jeanie Morris’ letter to me, I said #¢Nothing could have fallen out more delightfully. Upon my word, this arriving on nearly the same day looks like fate, doesn’t it?”’ Judith rebuked me as in duty bound. i Well, Jeanie Morris. came, and she Set our usually staid and quiet house -quite beside itself with her charming ways. | " Philip ‘came, too, and when they met I introduced them in my own awkward fashion. % “This 18 that scz;,?egrace, Phil Voorhies,” T said. . “You have heard us talk about him more than enough. I dare say we have made Miss ‘Morris hate you in advance, Phil—" What more I said I°'do not Know; I kept on talking, though ceascious that 1 had produced a very unexpected coup de theater. 1 was evidently doing a work of supererogation in introducing those two young people. They recog~nized each pthér, and this unexpected meeting was a surprise which caused both strong emotion, though I 'saw at once that' it was not of an agreeable nature to either. 3 Phil turned pale under all the sunburn left by his sea voyage, and Jeanie —well Jeanie looked as 1 remembered seeing her do once when she was little, and an older girl with a bad temper boxed- her ears; she looked positively faint, with a mingling of emotion in which it ‘was difficult to tell whether a sort of frightened surprise or proud indignation was uppermost. I glanced at Judith. For once ‘in her life Judith stood helpless, as near reiifgce(l to a state of coma asl was myself. ° )

Jeanie was the first-to speak. She held out her hand. “How do you do, Mr. Voorhies?” ghe said. I met your friend in Europe, Uncle Jack,” she added, turning to me in explanation, : There was more talk, but I could see that both Philip and Jeanie were embarrassed and soon the party broke up. Assoon as Jeanie and Judith had left us and the instant the door closed Phil turned quite savagely upon me. ‘“Why didn’t you let me know that girl was to be here?” he demanded. . ‘“How could.l think of it?’ pleaded I in desperation. ‘I did not know that you- had ever set eyes on each other. Good gracious, Phil! what does it all mean?” o . “Mean?”’ criéd he, ‘“it meansthat I’'ll not spend a night under the same roof with her! I can’t help-how it looks—l don’t care what anybody thinks—l am off.” - ; “Going away? Why, you'll break Judith’s heart!” ‘ ; : “Don’t talk to me about hearts!” roared Philip. ‘“There’s nosuch thing when women are concerned—the article was left out of their anatomy. However, that’s neither here nor there—l can’t stay; I would not endure another hour of such purgatory as that dinner has been for any price one could offer.”’ “Matters did not seem to go smoothly, somehow,”’ said I. e ‘¢ Smoothly!”’ echoed Philip, in a voice that sounded like 'qhez_bfare of a war-trumpet. Then he laughed, in a bitter, tragic way that would. have «done credit to the Mephistopheles himself: e £ “Do tell me what! it is all about!” 1 cried, feeling more bewildered than ever., B

‘“There’s never any. use in explanations,”” returned Phil, lofsily. *‘l am very sorry to appear rude; I can only trust to your goodness to excuse it—"" I sat dazed, as he left me, wondering - what it all meant. Maybe I dropped _into a doze. | Anyway, I feltas if [ had %a nightmare; I roused myself enough at last to think that I must join the _-others, when I heard Judith’s step in the hall. i A - ~*“Jack! Where are you, Jack?’ she - «cried. . | ~ “Herelam,” I groaned, rising to meet her. by il *“Did ever mortal hear the like of this?’’ she cried, waving anopen letter -over her head. ‘¢ Never, never! 1 am fifty years old, but if I was five hundred I could not expectsuch a thing to happen twice.”’ L “ Wh-what is it?”’ 1 asked. *ls Philip—"’ ‘ : “T’ve not seen him—one of the men - met him in the road—"’ ““Then he has gone, after all?”’ “Gone?’ echoed Judith. - I can find no comparison that could do justice to ‘her tone. : : ¢« I suppose he tells you all about it in his letter,” I sugeested, hoping at least to be relieved from explanation, since I really had none to offer. “ What does he say?” ! _ “BSay! I think you are crazy. - You - are all as mad as hatters. - I’ll turn the house int 6 an uylum, and shut you all up in it, if there’s no other way.”” ‘“But the letter ——"’ “Don’t I tell you it's from Jeanie!” cried Judith, fairly dancing at me jn her anger and astonishment. ‘‘ Jeanie has ~_§one away!” ¢ Jeanie gone, too?’’ 1 muttered, and sat helpless. . .. . . ‘“Gone, t00?”’ demanded Judith. ‘Do you mean that Philip has left the HonseP T e R oL e

' I nodded. I was past speech for the mﬁmellt.. oy ? : 3 «Tell me this instant what it all means?’ shrieked Judith. *‘l'll not wait a second!”’ i ; ¢ Philip went into a great state—said he would not sta.ly a night in the house with that girl. I tried to gethim to see you before he started; 1 thought he was with you.” i ' Jutg,iph sat down in a chair and glared at me. ; : -« What does Jeaniesay?"’ I ventured to ask. : .3 ; My question agitated my sister so much that I reallly" thought she would fly in pieces. Then, with her usual brusque .changeableness, she suddenly began to read the note aloud: . i - * Dear Aunt Judith—you must forgive me—some time 1 will explain—l cannot now. )am leaving the houap—lpshall take the train to New York—mamma is there. Try not to be very anfjry with me, and invent some reason to give to Jncle Jack—l can think of none in my confusion—but I must go. 1t breaks my heart to behave so ill toward your—do please try to pardon it, and believe me always, your loving Jeanie,” ‘““Heavens and earth!”’ cried I “Gonel”. . . . : “Gone? Ordered the carriage, and drove away whilg I was busy about the gardener, who is ill.»? ; : ‘“Gone| to town,” I said. ¢ Why, googl, gracious, Philip has ‘gone there, too.

There was a brief silence between us. The room grew rapidly darker; fortwilight was coming on, so that I could not well see Judith’s face. Suddenly she startled me by bursting into a fit of laughter. There she sat and laughed. like a maniac, and the more I begged to know if she had the hysterics the: more she laughed. = o 0, don’t you understand?’ she managed at length to articulate. ‘* These two idiots were trying to run away from each other, and have run together.”’ i I did understand. I lau‘ﬁhed more insanely than Judith had done, I laughed till I set myself coughing so hard that she was obliged to loosen my neckcloth, and pound me on the back. A minute more we heard Jeanie’s voice in the hall. | “ Good Heavens! she has come back!"’ whispered Judith. ¢ Stop where you are. She may as well think you know nothing about her going. I'll find out what it means.” ’ ‘My sister went away. I sat there alone in the gloom. - The dining-room was at the back of the house and had glass doors opening upon the shrubberies, and these doors now stood open, for it was a warm May evening. Suddenly*l heard a step on the veranda and saw Philip’s head appear in the doorway. He could not see me, but I had lighted another cigar, and it made a bright spot in the darkness—he could see that. ; -

“ Uncle Jack,”’ he said, softly. “\} es, my boy,’! said I—there was no further emotion possible to "me—l was calm from utter stupefaction. . ‘I have come back,” said he, rather sheepishly. e “ So I perceive,”’ said 1. * You needn’t say anything to Aunt Judith,” said he~ln a coaxing voice. Then he went on: ¢ You see just as [ was taking my ticket at the station, 1 saw Miss—l saw your young lady friend. As she had chosen to leave the house, there was no reason why I should not come back.” ‘“ Not the slightest,”” said I, though I did not in the least know what I meant. ‘““What reason did she give , for going?”’ . : “I didn’t see her,” said I. * But to Aunt Judith—you have seen Aunt Judith?”’ ey ; - ¢O, yes,” I replied; ‘“but I don’t think she knew any more about Jeanie’s reasons for going than I did yours.” ‘I suppose.l had better tell you,” said Phi{). *‘l feel rather more sane at present—l know I acted like a fool—but, you see, meeting her here, so unexpectedly, quite upset me.” : + ] should say theré had been apretty general upse-tt.in%,” I muttered, but had sense enough not to make it audible. Just then we heard Judith call me. “ Wait here,” I said, rising. <«TI'll 'go and see what she wants.” So I went out into the corridor, closing the door after me.— - W o ~_““Phil has come back,” 1 whispered. I ¢] know it, but Jeanie doesn’t,”’ returned my sis,tetr, in a lone tone. “I | saw him going through the shrubberies. What are we to do now?”’ - ““Has she said anything?” - " ¢ She won’t explain. She only says she could not stop in the house with that manj that when she got to the station she saw him buying Eis ticket, and she came back.”” ;

¢« He was just going to tell me his side of the story when you ecalled to me,” said I. Judith clapped her hands softly. “Go back and make him tell it,”’ said she. . I obeyed passively. * “I suppose Aunt Judith will blame me for her visitor’s going away,’”’ said Philip. : ‘] am sure I don’t know.—That will depend, I sappose, on what Jeanie tells her.” . ‘ ‘ . ¢ What can she tell her?’ cried Phil. I think she would be puzzled to give any accountof her conduct. Therenever ‘was a man So abominably treated as I have been.” _ ‘“Come, Phil,” saidl, ‘“lhave known ‘Jeanie since she was a child—there | must be some mistake.” " ““How I loved her,” he broke in. ‘“Ilove her yet. That is the worst of it, that is what drove me so wild today. After all that had come and gone, after having been so cruelJlgvde-; ceived, mocked, made a jest of—that I should be such a weak fool that the sight of her can move me—but I love -her yet—yes, I do—that is what galls me so!”’ : 3 : Bt i “Tell me, Phil,” T urged. ‘‘Atleast | you know you can trust me, or Judith; ‘that we love you as if you were our 'youl¥er TPORBe T s ik S 5 “Yes, yes, I know. Well, it is not much of a story,” he continued with a hard little laugh. ¢ I met her in Rome, first, nearly three years ago. I don’t think I fell in love. 1 loved her from the very first moment I set eyes on her. I believe I told her so in less than a week. Well, well, after awhile she fave me reason to believe she cared O Frlagasd ekl 5 » ShwUFS I may.as well tell it in a few words. She was oﬁg,&d to 'leave%e%* é-{i.er cousing wanted her to marry some

Ttalian,: and they quarreled with me.” But the upshot was that Jeanie-and-I were-engaged—in July her mother was to come to Europe—Jeanie would be with her at Blarritz—free from her relations, and I was to join her there. I had more than two months to live through. I went wunderinf about to ass the time as best I could. At first })received letters from her very often; but soon th,eg grew more rare; and then they stopped altogether. It was not et the time she had set for me to seek Ke‘r; but I flew off to Blarritz, and—"’ His hesitation quite maddened me. I cried out: N ¢ Well—you sdw her?—for Heaven’s sake, tell the rest.”” ¢ Saw her!”” he repeated, savagely, shutting his teeth together till they clicked%ike steel springs. *Yes, Isaw her—l think I shall not forget it this side the grave.” _ “Goon.” “In the train from Bordeaux I met one of her cousins, who told me that Jeanie wag to marry the Italian; that she had informed them of her engagement to me as a good joke; that she had fooled me just for the fun of the thing; that she had laid a wager that she could do so.” G ““ What did you do?’” . “I-went to Blarritz! The family had .a house on the cliffs. It was evening. I went up there, determined to see Jeanie. Iknew that it was probable I should be refused admittance. So I just walked into the house, for the doors were open. There was a veranda gt the back, like yours here. I saw Jeanie sitting there, and the Italian was kneeling at her feet.” ‘“Did you go on?”’ I asked. ~ ¢“Go on,” returned he. ¢‘lhad seen enough. There was a night train to Pau. Itook it. . From Pau I wrote to her. I was determined that she should not make-an utter fool of me.” :

“What did gou write?”’ : i ‘““That I had to thank her for our pleasant flirtation in Rome; that, as of course neither of ushadever considered it serious, she would not be surprised that I hoped before long to introduce{ my wife to her; and that I trusted my sweet girl would rank among Miss Mor= rig’ friends.”’ - | . ¢¢ Great Heavens, Phil.”” .‘ “Then I started for Australia, and wentround the world. Well, here I am, and that is my story.” - -~ ° ‘“ And a pretty one it is!’ cried a voice-.@ the library doorway, which made us both jump. j : We turned. There stood Judith. ““You're a dreadful fool, Phil!”” she continued. - . ‘“There was no truth in what that woman told you. The Italian did propose to Jeanie—she ¢ould not help that —I suppose you happened to| go eavesdropping at the very moment!” | ¢ Aunt Judith!?”’ - : : “‘Hold your tongue!”’ cried the imperious lady. ““They had kept back your letters ~and Jeanie's, no doubt. Well, sir, the first news she had of you, after weeks of silence, was that sweet effusion you sent from Pau. Do you know what you did, sir? You nearly broke her heart!” 5 “If I could believe that,”” groaned Phil, ¢ I would go and find her absence —beg her to——"" 't %ah!” interrupted Judith. ‘- Come here!” : She pushed him into the library, and shut the door behind him. We heard a cry from Phil, echoed by a feminine voice. Then we neither saw nor heard our visitors for more than an hour. ' al The table had been cleared and lamps brought, and Judith and I were waiting with what patience we might. The door opened at last. : There the pair stood, a little shamefaced, but as happy a couple as one could well find. o : Judith hugged them both, and so did I. Then we had some supper. Then Judith sternly dismissed us all to our respective chambers. ' ‘*This is a respectable house, and I am a woman of order,’’ said she; ‘it is ga.st eleven o’clock, and I feel as if we ad lived about ten years between sun‘set and bed-time.””—Exchange.

A Second-Hand Suit. A BIG one hundred and eighty pounder, whose long legs and bulky body. were jammed into a second-hand suit of clothestwo sizes too small, entered the Central Station yesterday with his ear bleeding and a bunch on his jaw. As soon as encouraged to speak he be1e . : g «« Well, to begin on, I'm a nass, and to end on, I'm a fool!”? i 3

‘“l’ve got that down,” said the Captain, as he made notes on‘a sheet of paper. ’ ~““You see,”’ continued bulky, I wanted to get my “tintype taken, and I wanted it took with a red necktie on. Red just shows off gorgeous on' a tintype, and this one o’ mine was going clear to Injiany.” i ; ¢ That's down.”’ . e ;

““Well, I went to a clothing store down here, and the feller he bowed and shook hands, and his wife she bowed and shook hands, and he had red neckties ranging all the way from fifteen cents to three million dollars apiece. 1 got one—here she is. I don’t claim to know anl.yching about carpets, but I do believe I kin pick out the best red necktie of any chap of miyl' inches in North America. That's a right, 'm satisfied with the tie, but just put your eyes on this suit of clothes!”? e e

‘ I’ve seen better fits and more harmony in colors,”” observed. the Captain. - *Fits! Why, these clothes was built for a yearling calf, while I'm a three-year-old elephant! Harmony! Why, here’s brown, black, red, green and saddle-color, all in a_heap!” ¢ Well, why did you get ‘em P’ ¢ Yes, why did 1 get 'em,”’. repeated the man as he fell into a chair. ¢ Write me down as another. -’figo], and draw a line under the fool! These ’ere clothes hung there in that store, and whenthat ’ere man smiled and bowed and offered ’em to me for fifteen dollars I had no more-idea of takin’ ’em than you have of eating alligator steak for dinner. Then his wife bowed and smiled and offered em to me for thirteen, and said I had the purtiest pair of shoulders she ever saw. Then the

old man knocked off another dollar and said the.clothes once belonged to a millionaire here, and that when I got into em and walked up the street every hat would come off to glorify me.” “ And you believed it®” - ‘“Believed it! Write me down as an idiot—a nass—a fool who don’t know 'nuff to chaw slippery-elm! Of course, I believed it! One of ’em was praisin’ my legs, and the other my shoulders, and both smiling and bowing, and I took these duds at’leven dollars—shoot me, if I didn’t!” ¢And (Eedestrians took off their hats to you, did thex‘z”? ‘“Did they! - That's the meanest thing of all! I bought these ’ere things ’sposin’ they belonged to a millionaire, but I hadn’t got a block from the store when a big-necked ruff dances up to me, calls me Jim the Kicker, and says he’s going to lick me for giving him away to the police. These ’ere duds sold me right outin a minit, and I got a couple of cuffs on the head which have kept my brains playin’ pull-away ever since the boys helped me up.” ‘“And what do you want me to do—make an arrest?’’

‘¢ Arrest be hanged!’ shouted bulky, as he jumped up. ‘“Do you ’spose I'm a squealer? Do I ery when I get bitten? Never! I kin perish, but I cannot squeal! Farewell!” .

He started -for the river, an officer following at a distance, but he changed his mindg about suiciding, and was last seen sitting on a barrel of Akron cement peeling a herring with one hand and pulling down his vest with the other, while an old apple woman was saying: “I ’spose ye was driven into them clothes by machinery, but what sart of machinery it is that’ll drive ye out of ’em is more than a poor old woman likes me has business to know.”’—Detroit Free Press. i o

- FACTS AND FIGURES. - NEARLY 2,000,000 -cattle, mostly young, will be driven from Texas North before the hot weather of August begins. e BosroNn has 2,700 tenements, this classification including all buildings having more than three families under one roof. - : « A CENsuUS of Dakota will be taken in June, and the]Yankton Dakotaian’s estimate of the population of the Territory is 90,000. e THE San Francisco Bulletin says that the total arrivals of Chinese at that port in 1878 was 6,675, and the departures 6,071. A BomBAY dispatch states that the cotton crop of Ber:é; and the central Provinces is estimatéd at one-half less for the present year than that of the year 1878, SINCE the opening of the New York Canals in 1825 there have been transported on them upward of 170,000,000 tons of property, chiefly the products of the Western and Northwestern States. : ! :

THE personnel of the Paris Street Sweeping Department consists of 2,500 laborers who work by the day and 2,000 auxiliaries who work by the half day, but when there is a heavy snow storm the Scavengering Department may take on as many hands as it thinks proper, and does so to the number of a thousand at a time. The sweepers are enrolled in brigades of 115 each. . -

THE gold production of Victoria, Australia, last year was only 755,754 ounces, being a falling off from 1877 of 44,000 ounces, or between 5 and 6 per cent. The decrease in the yield of the Victorian mines for a 101(1ig series iof years has been constant and considerable. In 1870, for example, the product was 1,222,798 ounces, which shows in the interval a diminution of 467,000 ounces, or more than one-third. 3

Mg. EDWARD ATKINSON has figured up that the annual interest on the investments of Massachusetts in railroad enterprises constitutes 6 per centum of all the taxes which citizens there pay, and also would pay the freight charges from Chicago to Boston of all the flour that the people of Massachusetts can eat in a year, and also the freight charges on more thanone-half the meat they need in the same time.

THE total number of paupers in London on the last day of the fourth week in February was 89,529, of whom 45,018 were'in the Workhouse, and 44,516 received outdoor relief. Compared with the corresponding weeks of 1878, 1877 and 1876, these figures show an increase of 3,216, 3,880, and 1,106 respectively. The number of vagrants relieved on the last day of the week was 654, of whom 541 were men, 100 women, and 13 children under 16.

THE old saying that straws show how the stream flowsseems to be verified by the fact that there hag been a falling off to the amount of £350,000 in the legacg and succession duties payable in England in 1878, as compared with the yield to the public revenue from the same source in 1877. Here, the Chancellor of Exchequer assured the House of Commons the other day, is . evidence of the public distress. The cause of this, he stated, was to be found in the diminished value of stocks and in the fact that there was a decline, of some thousands, in the number of wills admitted to" probate last year. There may be more than appearson the surface in these facts and figures. - THE largest bridge in Europe will be completed next year. It will cross the Volga in thé Government of Samara, Russia, on the Siberian Railroad line. The Volga, at the point of the bridge, is about four miles wide in the spring season, and in autumnis 4,732 feet. The ‘bridge will be supported by 12 piers 85 feet high, with ice-cutters 35 feet high at a distance of every 364 feet. The ice-cutters are covered with | granite. The iron-work is from Bel- | Flum'. A temporary colony is ‘estabished for workingmen employed on the bridge; it oecupies about 55 acres, and has 60 different buildings, insured at 100,000 roubles. Two thousand men are employed, and among them are 100 Italian masons. Three steamers and seventy barks are used constantly for fm'wardinﬁ wood, stone, iron and other materials. The bridge will cost 4,630,000 roubles, or about - $8,5600,000. - ° i A Tt s { —The onion is said to be the early harbinger of spring. : ﬂ

Youths’ Department. e W EUW D U s W B ReR r W s e ROy K 0 -+ FUNNY UNCLE PHIL. 1 mm)v the’. grown folks talking, last night when Ilay abed, 7 So latl}z“ myaef,yea and listened to-everything ey sald; 5 And Qrsey;.lhe% said that Polly and Phil were comng - i And a good, good sonl was Polly, but Phil was . always queer; 5 And they never, never, never, in all their lives - counld see ; : How Polly came to marry him, ‘nor how they could 3 : For she was juat as bright and sweetas any flower in May, : ‘But he was tight as a drum-head, and as black as a stormy day. 1 i And his nose was always poking into.other folks’ And g:. was altogether too fond of splitting irs; And he had so many corners, you never could come near Rl Without your hitting some of them, or being in constant fear. ; iy Well, I listened very hard, and I 'membered every word, ; And I thought it was the queerest thing a body ''* ever heard; | : And in the evenin(i.nwhen I heard the chaise come down the hill, I a.lmgﬂsﬂcouldn’t wait to see my funny anle;

But O! what stories grown folks tell! He wasn’t Al he Dadoit o but lump and And he n't any corners, but was plump .. fair and smnll; 4 ook {His nose turned up a little, but then it wasso : wee, L : How it could poke so very much I really couldn’t i see. o B

And when he saw me staring, he nodded hard, . _ and smiled; 9 . And th}fﬁdhq asked them softly if I was Elsie’s c 3 i And when grandma said Iwas he took me gently * on hisknee ! @ And wound my longest curl about bis finger carefully. | :

And he tolé me 'bout my mamma when she was a little girl, i And a%lll t.ltle tulne he talked he kept his fingers on at curl; . | Till at last I couldn’tstand it, and I slipped down by his chair, 2 And asked him how he came to be so fond -of _splitting hair. oo

My! how he stared! and Jimmy laughed, and grandina shook her head, ¥ And grandpa had his awful look,and Uncle %am turned red; P i : And then the clock ticked very loud, the kitchen was so still, e And I knew ’twas something dreadful I had said to Uncle Phili

But I coﬂl:‘lidn’t help it then, so I told him every | W » And he listened very quietly; he never spoke nor : stirred, ; Till I| told him 'bout the corners, and said I didn’t know { How he could have so many when there didn’t . any show;

And then he laughed and lavghed, till the kitchen fairly shook; 5 And he gave the frightened grownfolks such a - bright and funny look, . And said, ‘' 'Tis true, my little girl, when Polly married me Iwas full of ugly corners, but she’s smoothed ' them down, yousee.” J iy And then they all shook hands again, and Jimmy | Ifave three cheers, e And Uncle Sam said little pitchers had most ' _ monstrous ears; And grandma kissed Aunt Polly; but then she locked at me, g : And said I'd better * meditate’” while she was getting tea. ; That' means that I must sit and think what ; naughty things I've done; : It must be 'cause 'm little yet—they seemed to think ’twas fun. — I don’lt %te understand it all; well, by and by Creep lgg%ﬂy up to him, and ask my funny Uncle : il : —Amelia Daily Alden,in Wide-Awake.

CARRIE’S ANSWER. o 0O WALTER, I'm glad you’ve come. Please bring in the wood and water as soon as you can, and put on the kettle for me. I’'m hurrying tc get my ironing done before night, so as not to have it round again to-morrow.” - It was not very much that Walter had to do for his kind sister, who for two years had done all in her power to fill their mother’s place. The family were not really poor, but their means would hardly admit their hiring a Fﬂ, and except the washing, Carrie did the work. V&alter did not mean to be unkind; but though -he really loved his sister he was not always thoughtful for her comfort, and just then he wanted to go coasting with his schoolmates. The afternoons were short, and with a very sober face he glanced at the western sky, where the clouds were already beginninf to wear a tinge of pink, and answered shortly: A

“I wish you'd wait on yourself.—lt's pretty tough for a chap that has to go to school and dig over stupid books, to have to work at home and wait on folks. 1 had errands to do this morning, and by the time father comes home he’ll think of some more, most likely—he usually does.”’ ; Walter’s hasty words had hardly passed his lips when he-felt half sorry, and would have been glad to recall them; but he was too proud to say so, .and heal the hurt he had made. ‘ Carrie said not a word but he saw the sudden tears as she bent over her ironin.g-table—ironing,_ as he could not heldp?noticing, one of his own shirts; and he remembered how nicely she always did this work, how smooth and shining his collars and bosoms were. 'He remembered, too, an invitation to tea the next afternoon; and he knew everything would be in readiness for him, without even a thought on his. part. ; : | Walter could work fast when he ‘chose; and he had more than half an ‘hour’s coasting before tea, after doing ‘all hig sistér asked. Then, as it was a. bright moonlight evening, the boys agreed to meet at seven, and coast an hour or two. Most of them had a lesgson to learn, or look over, for the next day. Walter took his book directly after tea, and tried to fix his mind on the lesson. But it was not an easy one, and he soon wanted his sister’s help. She had washed and put away the tea-things, and was sittin% in her little rockin%—chair by the table, with & new book lying in her la(i,). Carrie was very fond of readi‘ng and study; she had left school with keen regret ‘when her mother’s place was made vacant in the household; and ever since had used whatever scanty opportunities she had to increase her store of mental wealth. Walter knew she would read when too tired to do anything else, and knew just how she must have longed all day for that book. She had begun it the previous evening, andhad read little more than the opening chap-

It would be too shabby to ask her to help me,’’ he thought, ‘“even if I'd been as good as pie te her; and as it is, I'm ashamed of myself.” . (O Walter, why couldn’t you say so? Why would you let Kour - pride, the ¢¢shabbiest’” part of the matter after

all, keep you from saying, “I'm sorry, Carrie,’,g when you kn.e%r ~that WQSd make all right again-in an instant?) . Walter gpuné«femfi, .on qmm;'%ﬂ the ‘breakers of a chapter of nataral phii losc:{)hy, for this study was always a ~hard one to him, while to Carrie it was ‘“smooth sailing on a summer sea.” He was nervously anxious, too, lest he should be late. But as his sister turned toward the lamp and opened her book, she saw the perplexed look on his face, and she .instantly came ‘around to his side, and asked, kindly: ~ ‘ What is the trouble,. Walter?" ~ln ten minutes it was all plain to him, and before seven the lesson was thoroughly learned. Walter deposited his bo‘:ﬁ: on the mantel with rather more force than was meeded, and a hearty leave-taking—¢¢Rid of you till Joorning, anyway, old thing,”—and went to the entry for overcoat, cap and scarf. Ashe passed Carrie he pulled her dress slightly, and met her eyes. She understood, and followed him. "He said it then—what he ought to have said two hours earlier: - =

¢¢ Carrie, I'm sorry: I was downright mean, and you’re just as kind and good as if you didn’t know it. I’m ashamed of myself.”” - e - Carrie answered with a kiss and returned to her book. With what keen interest and pleasure she read!—an interest and a pleasure enhanced ten-fold. by the consciousness that she had won the victoryin a rea], though silent, . conflict with herself, and exerted 4 holy influence over her brother. Carrie: was not by nature a pliant, yielding, ea.sy-temlgered girl. Still less was she weak. 0: she was strong of will and purpose, brave and high-spirited. Had she acted from her impulses, she would have spoken very severely to Walter, and as she could see in this quiet hour, would only have roused angry feelings . in his heart, and lessened his affection for her. But by her self-control and ‘forbearance she had ~sk.ren§thened her influence over him for .'%'oo , and good only, and bound him still closer by ties of brotherly love. . Oh! sisters and brothers, remember that there is power in a soft answer; that ‘“he who ruleth his own spirit is greater than he who ‘taketh a city.”’— Christian Register. T . i

| Toby—A True Story.( 1 xNow, children, you are always glad to hear about your favorites, the ogs, so 1 am going to tell you something about a little dog I once saw, whose name was ‘“Toby.”” ‘5 When Toby was a very little dog his master said that he must learf to be obedient; he had to be punished sometimes in order to become so, but after a short time he learned that it was much pleasanter to have a piece of sugar than to have a whipping, and, like a wise little dog, made up hismind always to do as he was told, thus showing more wisdom than many little girls and boys can boaist. e ] Sometimes Toby would wake up in the night feeling cold, and would cry till his mistress covered him over, so she made him a nightgown which she buttoned in front, and then tied it over his back with a ribbon. =

Toby was very proud. of his new dress, and would showit to nearly every one who caléd. i ; : One day a gentleman called to see Mrs. I—, Toby’s mistress, and said: ‘““Mrs. I——, 1 have heard that your dog will get his nightgown whenever he is told to doso, but I cannot believe it.” Mrs. I—— called Toby to ' her, say-. ing, *¢ Toby, this gentleman would like to see your nightgown;’’ -off he'started, and in‘a few moments brought it to her. She took it and said, *¢but where is the sash?”’ Again he went up-stairs and bro.ulght the sash, which he gave to Mrs. . —-——,-W&gginﬁ'-his’ tail - and Tooking very proud and happy. Once Mrs, [—— Wa’s:'lgoing' into. the country, and said, ‘Toby, get your ball and put it into the trunk.”” Away ran Toby and very soon: brought his ball to his mistress; ¢put it into the trunk,”’ pointing to the trunk as she spoke. g AR B e pToby ran -to ghe trunk with the ball in his mouth, stood up on his hind leg;s ‘and looked in. ¢ Drop the ball, Toby,”’ said Mrs. I——, so Toby dropped it at once. - e e Ly

. “Now, Tob;, should -you like Mrs. Crocker to go?’’ Mrs. Crocker was a doll Toby played with. Again Toby ran up-stairs and brought Mrs. Crocker, and then Mr. Crocker, putting them both into the trunk, which was packed, and put into.the baggage-car of the train in which Mrs. %———— and Toby were going. . = i When they -arrived at the village where they intended stopping, Toby ran to'where the trunk had been placed on the platform, and, .when his- master went for it, he found Toby sitting uﬁ before the trunk begging for his ba and dolls. - 7 : As soon as they arrived at the house, Toby wanted his things, and would not let Mrs. I-=— do anything till she had given them to him, when .he ran to each member of the houselold to show them. Pk MR b L . I couldtell a great;mah% more stories of Toby’s funny doings, but it would take up too much space.—Hospital ReWWu' o s A‘ ‘

‘—One hot word brings on another, the deadly weapons are lunged out and the quandom friends blaze away at each other until one is disabled or the pistols are empty. It is a shame and reproach to every oné of us. The At~ lanta Constitution asks the men of the South to ‘put away from themselves and their State the '-b'urning dis%l‘a.ce; We join in the request, for in South Carolina ‘¢ the ‘la.r%e majority of men go armed.””—Charleston (8. C.) News ang Cotipler. | 07l & TRO s e —dJust Vkmw_‘v ‘the .farmer gr'at;esiulp : what few :ﬁ;gi' she has left in his cellar and iny: Igfes the. housekeepers to buy it for *¢ ﬁura_ho:‘se.-radish” at ten cents a small measureful. In this case the farmer is smarter than the horseradish.—New Haven Register. .. .

‘—There was. & story arouud that he and his. wife had. se&arated,\ and it grew out of a remark that the doctor made about some disagreeable boils theg both had at the same time., He said they would have to suppuftate before they got well. .., ... .