Ligonier Banner., Volume 13, Number 52, Ligonier, Noble County, 17 April 1879 — Page 7

The Ligonier Banner, J. B. STOLL, Editor and Proprietor. LIGONIER, : : : INDIANA.

A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY. : " ; Tim E—a cloudless June morning, balmy, rose-scented, delicious; place—a charming country house on the Hudson, where the recently-married Mr. and Mrs. Tom Ferguson were cozily established for the season. He was a genial giant, with a passion for entertaining his friends, infectious high Spirits and an irresistible laugh; she was a bright, graceful, attractive creature, with a happy faculty of extracting the greatest amount of pleasure from the most ordinary circumstances; altogether a well-matched pair. - - Just now they were expecting ‘a houseful of young people to spend’a week with them, and so Tom was leisurely pacing up and down the drive, with the morning cigar, while Laura gave the finishing touches to her flower vases, coming out between whiles to share his watch.

Soon their pretty little phaeton appeared with the first installment of guests—two young ladies, who were enthusiastically greeted by Tom and ‘'warnily embraced by Laura. Right behind the phaeton came a roomy rockaway, well-hlled with visitors both masculine and feminine, and before this last vehicle was fairly emptied, a light wagon made its approach, in which sat a remarkably. handsome young man. ' - It was just at this moment ‘Ehat Miss Edith Romaine, one of the very first arrivals, who had been standing chatting to Tom Ferguson, happened to turn her eyes upon the newcomer. Her change of countenance was so noticeable that Tom hastily asked if she folt ill,

“Yes, I think I am suffering from the heat—l don’t feel badly at all, thank - you,”’ was her somewhat incoherent answer. Then, turning to! Laura, ““May I goto my room now, dear?, Thanks; 1 know the way; the same one I had last time, is it not?"’ " and, gathering up her veil and parasol, the young lady vanished swiftly. : Laura overtook her at the foot of the stairs; to ask the reason of this sudden flight. : S :

“Don’t you see, goosey, that my crimps are rapidly disappearing? Go, back, and I will join you when I have, repaired the mischief,”” was Edith’s laughing reply. 0 But once in her. room, Edith Romaine’s smile changed to a frown. She' locked the door, took oftf her hat and sat down, but made no attempt to rearrange ‘her hair. On the 'contrary, she leaned her arms on the table, and thrust her fingers idly through the carefully arranged *‘flufliness’ .of her yellow locks., .

. ‘“ How vexatious!”” was what she said as she sat there; ‘“ how provoking! and how totally unexpected, too! Afterall, the world 7s a small place, or how could our paths cross again so soon? If Laura had only known—but she don’t know, and she won't, if 1 can help it. I'wonder if I could get away to-mor-row? No; I promised to stay a week, and what excuse could I make? Beside, my plans are all made; I've nowhere else to go until next Tuesday, and Laura knows that, teo. If I could only see him alone—for a moment—yes, that is the wisest way, I do believe. I will watch for an opportunity between now and luncheon, before we are obliged to submit to an introduction. Strange! but he didn’t see me— I know ke didn’t; but then men are so blind! Well, well, I'll dress and reconnoiter.”’ . it

A conple of hours later Miss Romaine walked into the ¢ library’’—a small room whose . chief characteristics were a tiny book-case and an immense baywindow, vine-wreathed and shady-— and came face to face with the gentleman whose arrival had so discomfited her. Sl e

He rose from his seat as she entered, and bowed formally, as to a stranger. Her color deepened, but she spoke coolly: , ; - ‘Mr. Nugent, I have something to say to you. , I came here to say it without interruption.”’ : ' He looked amazed, and repeated, mechanically, * You have something to say to me?2”’ . . ‘I don’t wonder you are astonished, but I shall be as brief as possible’’— with great hauteur. ‘I suppose we must be introduced when our host or hostess appears, and I want to say only this—we meet as strangers, as entire strangers. Do you understand?”’ Evidently Charles Nugent did nof understand, for 'he.looked utterly bewildered, and instéad of replying to her question, stared at his companion in helpless silence.: She waited a moment, and spoke again: ' :

© ¢Of course, if I had known you were to be here, I should have sent a regret, but it is too late now. The only thing to be done, as you must acknowledge, is for us to meet as if we had never met before,®since that will save the embarrassment of explanations, which I, for one, do not choose to make.”’ - Nugent was dazed. He managed to say: ‘- But why—what does this mean? Haven't we made a mistake——"" But he got no further. Miss Romaine’s temper was up. Her eyes blazed, her cheeks crimsoned, she looked two inches taller, as she irl:ge‘rrupted him: ¢ 110 mistake ‘at alltl Mr. Nugent. After your conduct last summer, you deserve no second hearing.” » Nugent started = violently at these words, and cast aserious glance at her, as if .seeking to unravel a new difficulty. . Then he echoed, vacantly, «“ Last summer! last summer! what has last summer to do with to-day?”’

*“Nothing—nothing at all, sir! They have ag little connection as our present has with our past.” ' “Then, may I ask why you referred to ¢ last summer’ in that pointed way?"’ inquired Nugent, who began to feel quite sure that this" 'chm‘frehensible young lady was demented, or, as he expressed it mentally, *‘ mad—stark, staring mad!”’ i ' ; . Certainly her l)eh_a.yior grew more

and more peculiar every moment. Now she looked at him with superb disdain, and replied, slowly, ‘ls this intended for i%nomnce or impertinence, Mr. Nugent? You are quite at home in both roles, 1 imagine.” = - ¢ It was his turn to flush now, but he made no attempt gt any further conversation for some moments. ¢¢Ridiculous, to be affected by what she says, when she is evidently a lunatic. Yet whkat a lovely creature! what a pity!”’ were his ('ihou‘ghts in the interval. ghe moved toward the door, as if all was said, and, merely repeating her first warning, ‘‘ Remember, you are to behave as if you never had seen me,” passed out, leaving- Charles Nugent more puzzled than he had ever been in all +his life before.. ; :

‘* How the deuce did she know my name, when I cannot even guess at hers?—that must be -more than accident,” he wondered. ¢ She seemed to think that I had ill-treated her in some way—all crazy people have such fancies, I believe. But then, after all, there was no incoherence in her words, no violence in her manner: she certainly would have impressed anyone as sane, except in her 'mysterious allusions. But what di¢d she mean about last summer—was she referring to—nonsense! how could she know! - Well, I’ll wait until I can ask Tom about her. I might guess and conjecture all day, and not come any nearer the truth than I am now.”’ .

It was eight o’clock that same evening. Mrs. Ferguson and most of her guests had, been amusing themselves with croquet, and now, warned by the gathering dafkness, were hurrying up their game with the usual amount of laughing and| disputing inseparable from the pastime. Tom Ferguson had retreated to a rustic seat at some little distance from the players, where he was joined directly -by Nugent, who had been waiting for this opportunity all day. Now, as he lit hiscigar, he asked, carelessly: : : ‘“ Where does Miss Romaine live, Ton; i:——a very striking beauty, isn’t she?’ i o

‘“Lives in New York. She’s a great pet of Laura’s and mine, too,”” answered Tom, between his puffs. ' ¢ By-the-way, Charlie, 1 should think you found her a striking beauty, and no ‘mistake, for you seemed to be struck dumb when I introduced you this morn-~ ing. What ailed you, I should like to; know?”’ : ' ¢ Ailed me? Why, nothing—nothing at all; but I was perplexed for a moment. Youwere showering all your introductions on me atia rate that took away my breath.. Soyou've known her a long time?”’ ¢“Oh yes, knew her before I met Laura, who was a schoolmate of hers. 1 say, Charlie, why don’t you fall in love with Edith Romaine? Ithink you'd make a match team, and Laura would be delighted. You're well up in her books, you know, and she’d speak a good word for you. Come, it's time you were thinking of getting married;”’ and Tom was evidently very much. in earnest. .

‘“ But—the fact is, I want to ask you a question, Tom, and it is about Miss Romaine herself. lsn’t she a little—well, gueer at times? Now candidly,” said Nugent, ' watching . the graceful white-robed _figure as he spoke, and hoping that his friend’s answer would be an indignant denial. Butinstead of that Tom Ferguson hesitated, pondered, and then said, slowly: ¢“ Charlie, you astonish me! How could you have seen that in such a short time? When Laura first mentioned it to me, just after Edith’s return from Europe, I only laughed at ber. 1 couldn’t see anything, at least not at first; butsince then I've watched her carefully, and I must confess she is very queer at times. But only at times, you know, and Laura insists that if she could only tind'a true, devoted lover it would cure her.- Such a pity!’ ‘“ Yes, indeed, a terrible misfortune. But why do not her friends resort to medical treatment at once? Such a state of things is inexcusable,”’” was Nugent’s reply, in a pained voice. Tom was evidently surprised at his manner, and began to laugh. “Don’t look so doleful, old fellow,”’ he went on, presently. ¢ There’s no greatharm done, after all. Edith Romaine is in no need of doctors, and beside, you remember the old saying about ‘ministering to a mind diseased,’ don’t you? Well, I'm certain you could minister better than any M. D.;’ and jovial Tom slapped him on the shoulder with another laugh. . Nugent shook off his hand impatiently. *“What heartless jesting this is!” he exclaimed. ¢“She ought to see a physician at once—some one who has made insanity a specialty. Whoknows but she might be fully restored to reason? You might use your influence —"’ But Tom’s burst of laughter was so explosive that the young man was interrupted. He stared, while his friend shook, . with absolute convulsions of ‘mirth] vainly attempting to explain the cause of his merriment, and falling into a fresh paroxysm whenever he got as far as, ‘“ What made you—"’ ' . At last, however, he managed to gasp: ‘“Oh, whata sell! Edith Romaine crazy! Won't Laura scream when I tell her? What put such an absurdity into your head, Nugent? Edith a lunatie’t. . i

“Do be quiet, can’t you, Tom? they’re all coming this way, and Miss Romaine will hear,” was Nugent’s vexed remonstrance, and Tom sprang up and dragged him away just in time. ““Tell me, Charlie, what made you think of such nosense?’ he asked again, when they had reached the shelter of the stables; and Nugent made answer in a faint tone:

i *“Why, you did. You talked about her being queer yourself, and abgut watching her carefully, and all that, and of course you misled me. Nothing so very funny in it, either.” ; *¢But the idea of our asking a crazy givl to visit us! 7Oh, Charlie, you must héve been a fool to dream of such a thing!’ s ‘““What did you mean, then, by the chfirfie in her, and all that nonsense?”’ ““Merely this. Ever since Edith came home last fall she has been subject to fits of depression, almost melancholy, which excited Laura's suspi

cions that she had had some unfortunate love affair. " Add to this her capricious treatment of the men—sometimes all smiles to some devoted admirer, the next moment as frigid as the North Pole—and you can see what I meant. But she’sas sane as you are, Charlie; more so, I should say,” finished Tom, with a quizzical look. - “I’m sure I’m delighted to hear it,”’ said Nugent, fervently; ¢ but promise me one thing, Tom: don't tell your wife about this, for she’ll tell it to Miss Romaine, and then we shall rever be friends. Come, promise not to mention it.”’ _

:“Well, I won’t,”’ assented Tom, after a moment’s reflection. Then, brightening; I won’t tell her until vou're gone, Charlie; but 1 couldn’t keep it any longer than that, for Laura will laugh so.” ] Nugent was obliged to be content with this: conditional promise, and would now have willingly changed the subject, but Tom Ferguson resumed it suddenly by saying: ; : ‘¢ See here, Charlie, it was you who started this idea about Edith, and not I, after all. What did you mean, old fellow, by your first question—just tell me that?”’ : [

But Nugent had already made up his mind to say nothing to his friend of his morning’sinterview with Miss Romaine, but to wait until time or another meeting brought some explanation of the strangeness. So now he gmrried the question 'as best he- could.. ¢ Oh, I don’t know! . It was suggested by her haughty manner of acknowledging the introduction, I suppose. The fact is, I hadn’t thought much about it one way or the other. “Hark! some one is calling us. Shall we go back to the house?” : : ““Yes, we must, for the moen is getting up, and I promised Laura to arrange for a drive by moonligfht. Suppose you take Edith, Charlie?”’ : ‘“Thank you, but I am in no hurry.”’ ‘““Hum! goin§ to try the dignitied dodge, are you? pique her interest, and all that? Welf, go ahead your, own way,” laughed Tom, as they rejraced their steps. =

Five days of the week had passed, and Nugent had never had an opportunity to exchange a word with Edith Romaine. 'Frue, she treated him with politeness, but it.was of such a distant and frigid sort, and she was so adroit in avoiding all occasions.of speech, except such few necessary words as ali might hear, that he began to despair of unraveling the mystery which encompassed that first day. ' He could not help feeling that he was in an unfortunate position. He was so attracted by this girl, everything she said and did (to others) pleased his fastidious taste, and yet he felt himself under a ban, whose cause was utterly unknown. He would have been so glad to walk, or ride, or drive with her, to hold her parasol or turn over her music; yet his faintest attempt at such familiarity' was always checked by a look or tone of unmistakable meaning. To add to his annoyance, Tom Ferguson lost no chance of lecturing him on his want of success, quoting constantly for his benefit the old adage of ‘ Faint heart,”” etc., and urging him to *‘ go in and win’’—advice which fairly irritated him because of its uselessness. Twenty times he had resolved to leave the house, and had invented countless plausible excuses for thus curtailing his visit; and he had broken his resolution every time, because there seemed a faint prospect of a fete-a-tete with Edith, which had never been fulfilled.

This morning, however, he was in high spirits, for fate was absolutely propitious. Miss Romaine had gone for a’ walk, notwithstanding the predictions of the barometer and the gathering clouds alike foretold rain. The rest of the party were comfortakly housed, when Mrs. Ferguson exclaimed, in tones of dismay: : ‘“Just look at the great drops! We shall have a perfect deluge, and Miss Romaine will be soaked. She had only a small sun-umbrella, and she has gone all the way to the grove.”’ . ¢ And that is full two miles,” said Tom Ferguson, starting up to examine the prospect. ‘¢ What shall we do?”’ - ‘¢ Let me take the pony-phaeton and %z after Miss Romaine, Tom. I shall ind her somewhere on the road, I imagine, both dripping and disconsolate,” answered Nugent, briskly, before anyone else could speak. . - Tom gave him a significant nod of approval, and with a ‘¢ Make haste, Laura, and bundle up a water-proof or something,’’ left the room to expedite the harnessing. In a few moments the phaeton was at the door, and Nugent, ‘well equipped with shawls and cloak, was on his way to the prettylittle grove where Miss Edith was fond of straying. He drove along the well-known road with mingled fear -and triumph, wickedly rejoicing in her predicament, yet dreading her displeasure at being forced to accept his aid. ¢But she has no right to be angry at e, for I never saw her before, and I must get to the bottom of this mystery somehow,’’ was what he said to himself more than once as the fleet little pony trotted on; and he really felt quite brave while he was saying it. But when he espied the ‘young lady at the edge of the grove, locking doubtfully in his direction, his courage began to lessen; and ‘when, as the pony stopped - close by her, she bestowed one of her coldest and mostdisapprovingl looks upon him, he was utterly disconcerted, and decidedly ~angry with himself for his folly.. % ~ *“lbeg yvur pardon, Miss Romaine,” ‘he said, as he steplPed out—*¢ 1 beg your Pa.rdon, but Mr. Ferguson sent me to ook for you.” , ' *Was there no one else to send?” freezingly. ¢‘John or William would have been quite sufficient, and—"’ ' _ **Don’t say any more, Miss Romaine. ‘lf you will get into the phaeton and drive yourself home, I will gladly walk. I don’t mind a wetting in the least, I assure you;”’ and he began buttoning his coat up as he spoke. ‘‘ Nonsense!”’ she said, ungraciously. ‘“How would that look, I should like to know? No, you have found me, and | you can. take me back, but I wish to tell you &a’o 1 understand your maneuver cYerf tly, and it won't do you any good. Shall we get in? for you must see thatl am uncomfortably damp.””

Without a word heassisted her to her seat, put the cloak about her shouders. and took the homeward road. . Presently she spoke; though with evident reluctance: e ; “ I must stop at the Postoffice, as I have 3 letier to mail. I was going there when you found me.”” ' = Nugent turned the pony’s head in the direction of ‘the village, still without speaking. He was getting furiously angry with this unreasonable girl, and felt that it was quite beneath his dignity to seek for any further explanation of her behavior. :

All at once an exclamation of dismay drew his attention to her. She was looking at him with so much amazement and alarm in her lovely eyes that he asked, involuntarily: : . ** What is the matter, Miss Romaine? what has startled you?” No answer, only a closer scrutiny; then her color deepened painfully, she covered her face with her haads, and fairly igroaned aloud. o Nugent reined up the pony. * For Heaven’s sake, Miss Romaine, explain this strange conduct! Have you seen a ghost, or am I such a frightful objeet?”? : :

_““You—you—"' she began, butseemed utterly unable to finish. - Nugent broke out: ¢ This is getting unbearable. I must insist upon some explanation of your strange behavior, Miss »fi(')maine, before you go any further. | In our very first meeting you implied that I had offended you deeply--1, who never saw you untillast Wednesday! %ou have followed up that strange begimping most consistently, I admit, but —— v ¢ Answer ine one question,’”’ she interrupted, in an agitated voice. | ‘ Who are.you?’’ o At this astounding query Nugent was completely ' disgusted. He answered with greaf curtness: ‘‘ Charles Nugent; son of gDr.{;é' ugent, of Boston, twentygix ),z;egzrs ©or age, la.wyer, at your serv--lice.”’ | . ‘“Charles! not Charles Edward?— but your double, who joined our party in Switzerland last June, and traveled with us after—who was he?”? = °

Nugent started suddenly, and his expression changed. - “I'understand! I see it now!” he exclaimed. ‘‘You mistook me for my Cousin Charles, to whom I bear a most unfortunate resemblance. But how could you continue to be mistaken all this time? That puzzles me, I confess,” and he looked anything but pleased as he spoke. , “I—l am yery short-sighted,” was the scarce audible reply. Then, with a deeper blush: ¢ Beside, you—you seemed to know all about last summer, or I thought you did.” o Nugent looked somewhat confused. ‘“I spent last summer in the Catskills, where I met some very agreeable people, to whom I fancied you were referring.”’ An| embarrassing pause followed. Edith was too much overwhelmed at the mistake she had made to say any more, while Nugent was pondering the sit,ua,tjion in a very doubtful frame of mind.

“Could she have been engaged to him?!?> was his first thought; ‘‘or.was it o% a desperate flirtation, after all? But she is evidently very angry with him. | I wonder if she cares for him still?, He always was a conceited fool, but then the girls used to like him immen%‘gly-——:” : - 4 ““You are passing the Postoffice, Mr. Nugent,’? said Edith; and sure enough he had been so absorbed in thought that he had forgotten to stop at the dingy little building, where a severe and spectacled maiden lady presided over the mails and sold dry-goods. - Edith stepped out of the phaeton as it drew up close to the walk, and Nugeni, resigning the reins to a boy, followed her into the, small apartment, where the Postmistress peered at them through - her glasses, but said not a word.

‘“Have you postage-stamps?’’ asked the young lady, absently. ' . ‘¢ We have,” with great dignity. ‘¢ Please to put one on my letter,” and Miss Romainé laid down the pennies and the letter as she spoke, quite unconscious of the growing disfavor with which she wasregarded. Presently the Postmistress produced a stamp, laid it beside Edith's letter, and remarked, with great acidity: % We sell stamps here—we don’t lick ‘em.” : =.

For a moment Edith looked at the angular-old maid, as if in doubt of her meaning; the next, Nugent had affixed the stamp, and together they hastened from the office.

As they drove away, their merriment, for a moment suppressed, became almost uncontrollable. Edith, leaning back in her seat, laughed at every fresh recollection of the rebuke she had received, and Nugent could not help joining her, try as he might. . That absurd incident did more for them than a week of explanations; awkwardness and embarrassment were driven away as if by magie, and when they drove up to the door at last they were evidently on the best of terms with themselves and the world in general. ' ;

Tom and Laura, rushing out to meet them, exchanged gratulatory glances. Laura carried Edith off to-her room at once, while Tom patted Nugent encouragingly on the shoulder, and whispered, *“ Go ahead, , Charlie! you’re lifiely to get the inside track, after all.” To which Nugent answered, thanklessly, ¢ Don’t be a goose, Tom.”” =

| IVe . . ' How the next two days flew! But Nugent was no laggard in love-making, and Tom grew quite ecstatic as he watched the progress of affairs. ‘ " | As Edith Ead" confided the story of her mistake to Laura (under a promise of inviolable secrecy), of course 'om heard the whole affair as soon as posgible, which knowledge not only doubled his interest in Nugent's wooing, but kept his wife in continual fear est he should make some ill-timed alfision to it in Edith’s presence. || At last the week was .fione. The gay party had made their adieux, and were gpeeding in different directions in gearch of new h.})lem,sures. . Edith and Nugent were the lust to leave, and if she said but little as they parted at the station, the few words

seemed to amply satisfy him, for he hovered around her with lover-like assiduity, and could hardly make wup his mind to let her go without him. . And if anyone could have heard what she said to herself as the train whirled her to her destination, they would have heard: . ’ ‘““How could I ‘ever have taken him for his ceusin? They are totally unlike. My Charlie is so much handsomer and cleverer, and—everything. And I fancied myself in love with that conceited fellow! It vexes me to think of it now. What alovely smile he has, too! I wonder how soon he will come to Saratoga? Perhaa)s next week, he said. How surprised Aunt Sarah will be!’—Harper’s Bazar. - : :

9 Youths’ Department. ~ SHOWER AND FLOWER. Down the little dmf: patter, . Making a musical clatter, Out of the clouds they throng; Freshness of heaven they scatter Little dark rootlets among. : ** Coming to visit you, Posies! Ogen.yonr hearts to uf Roses!” 'E at is the Raindrops’ 'song. gp the little seed rises: uds of all colors and sizes . Clamber %}f out of the ground. Gently the blue sky surprises ‘The earth with that soft-rushing sound. * Welcome!"—the brown bees are hamming: * Come! for we wait for your coming!” . Whisper the wild flowers around. * SBhower, it is pleasant to hear you!”— ** Flower, itis sweet to be near you!”— This is the song everywhere. Listen! the music will cheer you! __Raindrop and blossom so fair Gladly are meeting together Out in the beautiful weather:— ; Oh, the sweet song in the air! . i —Lucy Larcom,in St. Nicholas.

A LITTLE LUNATIC. GRETTIE GRAFTONsaw thenew moon over her left shoulder. Of course, she knew it was very su- | perstitious, and ridiculously foolish to be annoyed about it; but it worried her, nevertheless, Almost everybody has a little thrill of superstition down in the depths of his heart; and it will start and tingle, in spite of one’s common sense, sometimes, at a very tri{ling occurrence. And so, when Grettie %ra.fton saw over her left shoulder the bright, slender, silver piece of new moon 1;\? in the blue sky, and recollected Nurse Biddle had said it was ¢‘ a sign of bad luck,’” she felt certain her good fortune, for the month at least, was spoiled. And to happen, too, just as her mother and father had gone away to spend the night and the whole of next day, and left her housekeeper and ‘“mother’’ over the boys! .*Oh! dear. Was there any one ever so unfortunate?”’ sighed“Grettiefiaking the new-moon maftter quite sértously to heart—considering it was so farfetched. ““One! Two! Three! Four! Five!” rang out the old clock in the hall, the morning after Mr. and Mrs. Grafton’s departure. 1t had a ‘sharp, quick, snapping way of striking, as though it said: “I’'m Time, and I’'m going just as fast as ever I can. So you'd better get up and be doing.”’ ; ‘ Grettie rubbed her eyes and recollected her mamma had said to her: ‘¢ Get right.up when you hear the clock strike five; for the boys want to go berrying to-merrow, and you must have their breakfast ready for them very early.”’ / L ; But Grettie turned over. instead of getting up, as shethought of her moth‘er's injunctions; and then the little i sleep elves, who are always ready to take advantage of one’s slightest turn, carried her directly off to their beautiful dream realm again. ~ “One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!”’ rang! out the old clock, louder and snappier than ever; and then Grettie openetl'her eyes again, this time on the realm of breakfast and boys. But alas! if breakfast was not ready, the boys were, and a violent bang and thump at her door announced the fact. It was evident, if something was not ready for them very soon, her hungry brothers would devour her, in their impatience. It was too bad that she ‘did notiget directly up when she heard the cloci struck ¢‘‘five.”” She meant to; butit was < just that hateful old new moon.””. Her bad luck had begun. Joe and Harry were not in the best of -humors, either. >

¢ Mother always had hot coffee and somethin® good for us to. start off berrying on,”’ growled Joe. i ¢ Yes, and anice big lunch, all pinned up in a napkin,” chimed in Harry, as Grettie handed him some bread, and butter, and cheese wrapped up in a. small newspaper bundle. ¢« Well, I'm not your mother; and you won't get pampered and spoiled by me, let me tell you,”’ retorted Grettie, cross and ready to cry; because the fire wouldn’t burn, the kettle wouldn’t boil, and the boys were so sarcastic. - ¢“lndeed! Miss Crosspatch. Well, you’ll not get the pretty present from us you were going to have when we get our money for the berries we pick. So there!”” And with this not very affectionate adieu the boys took their tin pails and baskets and started off for the day. Grettie felt real unhappy. She had meant to have everything so ‘¢ right”’ for the boys while mother was away; and now thinés were all wrong, and they had gone off feeling cross and angry with her. It was all that hateful new moon she had seen over her left shoulder. She just knew it! -

Everything went wrong all day. She broke one of the néw china breadplates, washing it. She tore her new blue calico on a nail in the :buttery. She upset the cream-pitcher, and lost the whole of the cream she meant to have for the | berries the boys. would ‘bring home with them; and when she ‘tried her hand at making shortcake for their supper, as a sortof peace-offering, it was heavy and sticky and horria. It was no use. The new moon was against her, and Grettie sat down in despair to watch at the window for her mother’s coming, that she might pour out on her bosom all her grievances. She saw the carryall coming up the road at last, and started joyously to weet it. Oh! wasn’t it nice to have a dear, good mother coming home, to make the crooked places straight and the wrong things right! The boys had met the carriage on the road, and were in behind, vnfi their baskets full of berries, beside the stained tin pails,

which' ‘told: of “berries ‘sold. “Grettié wondered if they had told her mother how cross-she had been to them and about the breakfast and ail. But no! Their happy faces didn’t look tell-tale. So: Grettie: jumped up on the wheel, and hugged and kissed her mother haif a dozen times, before she would let her get out of the carriage. = .. .= _ ‘* Well, and how did you make out housekeeping, daughter?”’ asked Mrs. Grafton, as she untied -her bonnetstrings. . : 5 sl “Oh! mamma,”’ began Grettie, with tears ready to fall, ‘ everything went wrong. I meant to do it all so splendid. Didn’t the boys tell you? But it was all the new moon, and I couldn’t (lixélp it.”” And here poor Grettie broke own.. = et o

‘¢ Come, sis, never mind now!”’ cried Harry. "¢ We had enough; and, mamma, she only overslept gf:erself'a little. - We didn’t eare. Did we, Joe? See here, Grettie.” We sold nine quarts of berries to Mrs. Beal, and she gave us a dollar; and now Joe and 1 can buy you the book yow were wishing forthe other day. Won't it be jolly reading it aloud this winter®’ ko e L Grettie laughed thr_ouuglh{-her tears now. They were ‘ awful good brothers,”’ she declared, as she threw her arms around their necks and kissed her thanks. - i S ¢ But, Grettie, what do you mean by tlz)e new moon being the cause of all your grievances?’’ asked mamma, a little astonished at that curious sort of reiaéson for one’s over-sleeping one’sself. - : Then Grettie told her how she had seen it over her left shoulder the night before, and Nurse Biddle said it was a sure sign of badluck, and she believed in it now herself. - - S ' ¢ Oh, Grettie! Grettie!”’ 1 eried hermother, after Grettie had ended her recital of her trials and troubles. I hope you are not such a little lunatic as to believe in any such supersiition. Don’t you see all your mishaps were but the result of your mismanagement?" You did not get up when I »tofi%you‘to. That made breakfast late for the boys. Then you got out of temper with them, because they were hungry and disappointed in their poor fare and scanty luncheon. That, you see, left you. ‘out of tune’ all day; and I dare say the torn dress, broken china, and heavy short--cake can all be traced to something more °of the earth earthy’ than that pretty bright new moon shining up in the sky.” i i | Then papa and the ‘boys laughed 5 beartily over Grettie’s little *‘ lunacy” that she ended in laughing over it hers self. And thatnight, when she looked. | out of her window, before saying her:- | prayers, and saw the slender silver | crescent hanging up in the blue sky, she whispered, smiling to = herself: *“ Ah! pretty new moon, 1. won’t ever hang my own misdoings on_your hornsagain!’ And from that day Grettie Grafton put aside all her superstitious ‘notions, and can no longer be called a. ¢¢little lunatic.””—Mrs. G. De Bubna, ‘,mN. Y. Independeént. .- - .. |

'. Patches and Heroes. - | “THREE! four! five! How funny!'” cried the girls. ‘“Hurrah’’ shouted the boys. What were they counting? Yes;. the patches on poor little Constanece’s dress. She heard every word and the boys’ loud laugh. Poor little heart! At first she looked down, then the tears. came with a great rush, and she tried to run home. A il ¢ Cry-baby!"’ said the boys. '~ ““Don’t want her to sit next to me,’” said Ella Gray. = : *“What right has she to-come to.our school?”’ whispered proud Lily Gross. “There! don’t mind a word they say!” exclaimed Douglas Stewart, leaving the group of rude boys and trying to comfort Constance. = *“lLet me carry your books,” he continued. ‘¢Cheer up! It is only a little way to: your home, isn’t it?”’ Ao

Constance looked. up through her tears to see the bravest boy in school at her side. e o it I live in the little house under the hill,”” said Constance. ‘lt isn't like your grand house.” e ¢“No matter for that. - It has pretty vines, and clim’o_in% roses, and it's a very nice house_to live in,”’ said Douglas. ¢I ~dare say you are happy there?? &w: = i s ““Yes; I don’t want to come to: this school again,” sad Constance, softly. ¢¢Oh, tnings will be all é‘ifihblin, a day or two,”’ ‘said the boy, kindly. ‘“Never mind them just now.”” : '~ They had been. talking of heroes a little while before; they had been wishing to be like Alexander and Csesar and Napoleon. © There was not a hero among them except this same Douglas Stewart, who dared to stand out -.be%ore all his schoolmates and befriend this poor, forlorn little girl.—B. 8. Visitor.

~ How the Apostles Died. 1. PETER was crucified in Rome, and, at his own request, with his-head downward. : ety 2. Andrew was crucified by beinfi bound to a cross -with cords, en whic he hung two days, exhorting the people il hoexpired. o i sl 3. St. .}) ames the Great was beheaded by order of Herod, at Jerusalem. b 4, St. James the Less was ithrown from a fi h pinnacle, then stoned, and finall'g 'fied'with a fuller’s club. i 5. St. Philip was bound and hanged against a pillar. .-- .- : : 6. St. .gartholamewf was flayed to. quath by command of a barbarous ing. ; 7.gSt; Matthew was killed with a halberd. : S el : 8. St. Thomas, while at ijayer, was | shot with a shower of lances, and | Aia.fterward run through the body with a ance. b R e R :

- 9. St. Simon was crucified. . : . 10. Thaddeus, or Judas, was cruelly putto death, =~ ° e : <ll, St. Matthias; the manner of his death is somewhat doubtful; one says stoned, then beheaded; another sa.yiljzgg_ : was erutified.: gt S o BNI - 12. Judaslscariot fell, and his bowels gushed out. . S o 13. St. John died a natural death. - 14. St. Panl was beheaded by order of Nero.—Religious Exchange. = —How to judge man or manager—by the oompanyghe koops. - it