Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 5, Ligonier, Noble County, 22 May 1879 — Page 3

The Ligonier Banner, LIGONIER u . OlI)I\:DoIANA

AT THE GATE. » AND dhere were you just now, Mabel? Where have you been £o long? The moon is ug and all the birds Have sung their evening song; ' Isaw Xou loitering down the path, So lonely and so late e ' Beyond the well and lilac bush, And hanging by the gate. : Ilove to hear the birds, mother, : And sce the rising moon ; And, oh! the summer air is sweet Beneath'the sky of June. My cow is mi}ked’:. my hens are cooped, And washed are cup and gilate, S . And so I wandered out a while, i To hang upon the gate. : ’ o W L - The gate is b{ the road, Mabel, { i And idle tolks go bi;, - ] - Nor should a maiden brook the glance : ‘Of every stranger eye. 7 Beside, | thought [ saw a cap— I'm sure you had a mate; . So _tell me who was with you, child, Just hanging at the gate. Now you know just as well, mother, ? "Twas only Harry Gray. : He spoke such words to me to-night, I knew not what to say; : And, mother, oh! for your dear sake, I only bade ?éf.“ wait; ~ And mayn't I and tell him now? He's hanging at the gate. i ‘ . —Harper’s Magaziné for June.

THE BABY'S HAND. "THE baby's band! how soft and pink and small, Innocence written on the dainty palm. How many times in hours of pain or gloom | Its touch has seemed to me as Gilead's balm. Pity has filled my eyes for the moth_er"ix grief, Whose lot has been to see such hands as these ‘Wax faint and pallid, and be crossed at last Upon a little, sinless breast of peace. The »babyis hand! when she has learned the | ways L | _Of the world's wisdom, and its follies, too, ‘Will the childlikeness that charms us now, Set on its whiter beauty seal as true? If God shall spare her life, and she shall gréw— As well miay be—a woman sweet and tair, ' . “True-hearted men may kneel to press this hand, And deem its lightest touch a guerdon rare. .Heavex} grapt that he who wins its trusting clasp Zary Ma.l\; hold it firmly and regard its worth, Thinking the home its taste and skill adorn, Dearest, most sacred spot of allon earth. _ —ZLaura Earl,in N. Y, Witness.

A SCHOOLHOUSE ATTACKED. A YOUNG man from the West, Mr. G. ¥. Gleddale, has given the writer the following graphic and thrilling incident of the last Indian War/in Westernlowa " and Minnesots, which 1 append in nearly his own words: Lo . I had the fire to build at the school(house that morning, aii'd started early. [lt could not have been more than half[past seven when I left home. - The older boys | took:turns building the fire and ‘sweeping out. The boy ‘whose turn it was took the key home at night, and was expected to have the house warm before the girlscameat the re§ular school hour. | - ' - .1t was about a mile from our house to the school. The ‘-,r(ja.d ran along the edge of the ¢ timber,’’ and the schoolhouse stood amongst the ‘¢ heavy growth;”’ so as to be sheltered from -the bleak prairie winds. It was the first ever built there. , The settlers had built it only the year before. It was but twenty-three feet square, and made of logs, ¢ sided down,” so jas:-to fit tozether and keep out the wind and .snow-—for we used sometimes to have fearful driving snowstorms up| there. L : b ~ Qurs was a'liitle frontier district, of only seven families and twenty-three ‘scholars in all. All were Americans except one family, the Jonsens, who were Norwegians—honest, kind-heart-ed people as ever were. : Charley Bean, Clint Gargill and 1 were the three oldest boys. As it happened, we were each sixteen years old; and the two oldest girls, Merced Bean and Lettie Eastman, were but fifteen. The rest of the scholars were much younger. b B We had no regular teacher. That fall Mr. Fifield, the ‘Methodist minis-~] ter, had offered to take the school. |

Hi# salary was small; and the agent gave him the school to help in his support. | . | " I well remember the poor man. He was quite young,-not more than twen-ty-three or four years of age—very much freckled, and with red hair. But far from having a fiery temper, he was so mild that we said and }dig just as we pleased. Even tl}e AB C fellows were saying ‘‘won’t?’ and ¢ will” to him before the first week of school had passed. Yet the scholars liked him so well that we did not do anything that would greatly hurt his feelings. Some days, however, he was veryfretful and peevish. il I took my gun on my arm as I went to school that morning; for the partridges.used to come to the sunny side of fixe timber for the buds on the-birch-es; and sometinies there would be a deer there bro:wsi,l;g, 1 had a pretty little’ s',iiaile-ba.rrel ‘ihot—gun.- o There had beent rumors that fall’ of attacks on settlers i)’ the Sioux. 'ln fact, such reports ° gre always goin the rounds in the ffi‘i#tiervdistricts‘, ang this was a 4 sort of excuse for the large bOg's to take their gnns with them to school. Fol The Eastmans lived only a little ways from us; and on my way to school I generally called for Lettie. The schoolhouse stood. at, er near, the forks of two roads. She and I were

the only scholars who camé by that road, and we satl next each other in the ‘“ back seat.”” As school books were scarce with us, we msed to look tog:theij over the same geography and the same reader. | dEnt Indeed, I recollect that when Lettie h?pened to stay at home a day I had a dull time of it. For she was uncommonlx quick and bright at her lessons. Her finger would fly over the maps in the geography when we looked out answers to the questions, and it was much easier for me to follow her than to puzzle them out alone. e . When 1 went by Lettie's father’s home that morninfi"'to. build the fire in thé schoolhouse Lettie came to the door and said 'that she would start for school in about half an hour. - About _ga,if-wa between: Mr. Eastman’s and the scKoqlhouse- there was a ‘*slew,”” or water-hole, surrounded by thickets of gray alder, and the timber here came £m to the road. It was

November, and the night had been so cold that the ¢ slew’’ was frozen over. It was hardly sunrise yet. The thin blue fog lay low on -the bright frosty ground, and the smoke from the settlers’ houses in the distance rose straight up to a great height, for the ‘air was very still. / _ .As I went past the! ‘*slew” Ihada glimpse of something, - I could hardly tell what, amongst the thick alders, four or five rods from the road, and in a moment more I heard the ice erack. My first thought was that some hunter ‘'was in there. ¢ . ¢ ‘Halloo?’ I called. ¢Shot anything?"’ H . ' - There was no answer. . ‘ Then I thought for an instant that it might have heen a deer. But a deer, when started, goes bounding off at full spring, making plenty of noise in the brush; whereas I had only' heard one cautious snap of the ice. Then it occurred to me that it might have been a bear, for bears were quite common in that locality. | L . I set down my dinner-box anc books, went quietly in amongst the alders, and stood looking about for some moments, but did not' see any object nor hear a sound. : , 1t seemed odd, for I was positive I had had a glimpse of some moving object. However, I had the fire to build, and so went back to the road and hurried to the schoolhouse. Yet I kept thinking that there was something odd about the noise and what I had seen.

By the time I had the schoolhouse warm and swept, nearly all the scholars were there except Lettie. A few minutes after Mr. Fifield arrived, and rapped for us to take our seats. Lettie had said she would start in ‘half an hour. If she had started, she ought to have been at the schoolhouse long before the master came. Then I thought of the noise I had heard at the ¢¢ slew,”’ and though I did not believe it was caused by anything that would hurt her, it made me feel uneasy. i ~ /The windows of the schoolhouse were small, and so high that I could not look out from my seat. But behind me there was a chink between the logs, from which some of the children had pulled the basswood bark which had been stuffed into it. It was a little crevice not more than half an inch wide. All the time we were reading in the Testament I kept peeping out at this crevice, for it was on the back side, and I could see the road along which Lettie had to come, and out into the timber above the road. - i She was nowhere in sight. | ‘ The master reprimanded me for looking out, for I had lost my place in the Testament, when my turn came to read. *“ We shallhave to stop thathole up,”’ Mr. Fifield said. That made Clint and Merced Bean laugh, for the two knew why I was peeping through it. - . . Then the first class in arithmetic was called. This was my class; but as I got up I stole another glance through the crevice, and a strange object caught my eye. £ oy Out in the edge of the woods where the burnt piece which had been cleared for the schoolhouse bordered the timber, I caught a glimpse of some object crawling slowly forward from behind a root. ; ; : ,-

There were dry fire-weeds and sprouts in the way. I could not see the object distinctly. But it crawled along to the blackened stub of a great yellow birch, and straightened up bebind it, as if about to climb it. Then I saw an Indian’s head thrust stealthily outfrom ‘one side of the old;stub, and the savage looked toward the schoolhouse.

1 cannot describe the feeling that the sight gave me. 1t flashed into my mind in/an instant that it was an Indian that I had seen down at the ¢‘slew,” and that he had waylaid Lettie. : _ ““George!” cried Mr. Fifield, sharp--Iy, ¢‘take your place in the class.” **Master,”” said I, with a very white fdce, I suppose, ‘‘there’s an Indian out-doors!’ : : <« What?’ exclaimed Mr. Fifield.

‘“There’'s 4an Indian with a gun, watcbing tke schoolhouse!”’ Irepeated. Mr. Fifield started to go to the window. But Clint exclaimed: <« Don’t look out, master, 1 wouldn’t look out, master.”. ‘¢ 1 don’t believe there is any Indian watching the schoolhouse,’”” said Mr. Fifield, rather sternly, for he was out of Xati‘ence with me for behaving as I had. ] "~ «Then come here,sir,”’ said I, ¢“and look out of this crack.” Instead of doing that, he walked boldly up to the back window, and with his face close up to the glass, looked out. e Ly

The next thing I recollect was hearing the sharp report of arifle, the shivering of glass, the fragments of which flew across the room, and seeing Mr. Fifield fall back into the aisle! He never uttered a word. He was killed instantly. J Two or three frightful war-whoops came at the same moment. ¢lmagine, if you can, what a panic there was in the schoolhouse! The little scholars all began to scream. . : o _ **Get down underithe benches, out of sight, every one of you!’ shouted Clint, as he ran to the door to put the “prop’’ against it. We had kept a large prmi in the room ever since the reports of Indians attacking the settlers began to come to us. After fiutting it Epfd()liht called Charley to help nim old it. 3 s

- It was hardly in its place before the door was violently shaken. . Then came heavy thumps against it, as if from a stone or a lo%; It was a plank door, and the prop held it. But we heard the savages begin to hack and chop at it with their hatchets or axes. I?xad I\igot'.,mfly §un from the corner where Mr. Fifield allowed us to set qur g)lllns, but there was only a partridge charge in it. We could hear the savages running round the house; and a moment after a great stone crashed through the four-pane window on the south side. Glass dand stone flew over the benches. The whole window was knocked in. e i The little scholars screamed again. One of the red-skins {umfed up outside, and, catching hold of the windowsill with his hands, thrust in his head and yelled at us. He was an uglylooking wretch—more like a demon than & human being. s -

| The moment his head came in, -almost without thought, I fired at him. It was only a charge of small shot; yet the muzzle of the gun was hardly ten feet from the savage. He gave a howl, and I heard him tumble down outgide the window. . The scoundrels J)robably supposed we were all children, and had no thought that we had guns. They expected, no doubt, to get our young scalps without much trouble. T had hardly tired at the savage in tThe window when the two at the door cut throu§h and stove in one of the panels. In came the muzzle of a gun! Charley and Clint jumped off the prop and dodged to one side, as the Indian fired into the room. Clint ran at once and seized his own gun. ‘ . The next moment. the prop slipped ‘down, and both of the Indians came in, headlong! Onme, a thick, coarse-faced ruffian, had an ax; the other, a very tall Indian, had the gun he had just fired through the door. | The instant they tumbled in Clint fired at the one with the ax. Dropping the ax, the red-skin clapped both hands.over his stomach, and with a fearful squeal, ran out, half doubled yp. : : 'gpl. hadn’t had time to reload; but I knew that the tall Indian’s gun was empty. So I ruised mine and took aim at him, as if I was going to shoot. Out he went at. one leap after the other, to escape being shot. ' We shoubjd and ran out after them, and just as I got to the door, I saw the one Clint had shot fall at the edge of the timber. The tall one had gone in .aunother direction, and in a moment was ‘ ‘out of sight. . : , ) We ran out to the one. we had seen fall. He lay amongst the dry fire-weeds, just at the point of death. "~ ¢ Don’t touch him!’ Clint said.

Then'l thought of the one I had shot in the back-window, and we ran back to look for him. He was not there. He had either run off or crawled away, and we never found him. ‘The little scholars had come out from under the benches, and were crying over Mr. Fifield’s body. But I could think only of Lettie. I was sure the savages had waylaid her; and I started for the ‘‘slew’’ as fast as I could run. I expected to find her scalped and dead. Before I had got to the ‘“slew” I saw her dinner-basket lying in the road. The sight of it made me cold and sick at heart. Near it was her arithmetic and one of her scarlet mittens, and out in the ditch lay her geography. : Fairly wild with excitement and ’?rief‘, I called to her again and again. There was no answer. -Then I searched through the alder thickets about the ‘tslew,”” and out into the timber.

Not a:trace of her conld I find anywhere, and I began to think that they had carried her off instead of murdering her. I feared that one or two of them had hurried her away, while the other three had come to attack the schoolhouse. ' o ' 1 came back into the road and started to run to Mr. Eastman’s, to give the alarm. But just then I heard some one calling to me, and looking round, saw Charley coming from the schoolhouse as fast as he could run. . ¢ Lettig’s found! We've found Lettie!’? he ¢ried. : i d

I could have shouted for joy! ‘I hardly thought of poor Mr. Fitield at all. Charley and Clint had found Lettie in the timber, four or five rods from the old stub where I had first seen the Indian. The réd-skins had tied her to a little ironwood tree. She had cried out to the boys on hearing their voices, and they had found her. : ' As she was coming along to school, past the ‘‘slew,”” anlndian jumped out of the alders and seized her, and, before she had time to scream, he put one of his big hands over her face, while two other savages tied her arms. They then took her along with them, through the wood, nearly to the schoolhouse. ! . All three of these red-skins %gake broken English, Lettie said. hen they tied .her ‘to the little ironwood, they told her they would tomahawk her if she cried out or made the least noise. Of course she was frightened nearly to death. ; : |

. But she was safe now; and had it not been for poor Mr. Fifield’s indiscretion in exposing himself, none of us would have been any the worse for that attack on the schoolhouse. I couldn’t help thinking, and cannot yet, that Mr. Fifield’s death ma{ have been owing to my having vexed him by looking out to see what had become of Lettie.— Youth's Companion.

How an Officer’s Servant Acted as the ! ‘“Grand Rounds.” - As'SHOWING the attachment of some of the military officers’ servants to their ‘masters, I will relate an incident which occurred in a garrison town in which ‘the writer was stationed for some time. An officer of rank in the artillery was named in garrison orders as the officer of the day. As the *‘ grand rounds” it was his duty to visit the garrison guards at night. Having sat pretty late at mess, and being fond of the bottle, his gait was very unsteady when ‘he rose from the table to proceed to ‘his quarters to dress for duty. Before 'dressing he threw himself on his bed, saying: : : »

¢‘l'll just snatch half an hour’s sleep; gall me at one o’clock.” : At one o’clock the servant attempted to rouse him, but without effect. The servant got the officer upon his feet, shook him, applied wet cloths to his head, but all to no purpose; the gentleman had been goinE on short allowance of sleep for a week, and now Nature had taken hold of him, and, being backed by the wine he had drank, hel hira fast. The servant was almoat frantic, knowing well the consequences that would ensue if his ma,sterqdid.not make the grand rounds. While wondering what course to pursue, his eyes fell upon his master’s uniform, sword, etc., all ready laid out for him to put on. The master and servant were about a size; the clot,hh&g of the one fitted the other to perfection. ~ “There's no other plan,” said the servant to himself; ** it's an awful risk, but I'll attempt it.” (iaits ='§Bastilg' throwing off his clothing he donned his ‘master’s regimentals—the splendid uniform: of the artillery, buckled on the sword, drew the heavy

busby over his' brows, and casting an admiring look at himself in the filass—— ‘notwithstanding his anxiety, locked the door upon his master and went out. 'The orderly was waiting in the barrack guard room, and ‘turnéfi out with the } guard to present himself. s ~ *Go ahead!” said the pseudo officer. ~“Which guard first, sir® . ‘‘ The magazine guard.” 4 _The orderly led the way. Guard after guard Kn.s -visited, and the serv‘ant began toenjoy the masquerade. It was something, unusual for him to be announced as ‘‘grand rounds,” and to have a' guard present arms to him. ‘There was no S\;Sficion that the master and the man had changed places for the time being; although the subaltern officer in charge of the main guard perhaps felt a little nettled to have his friendly salutation, after the guard had been turned in, responded to so gruffly. On returning to the quarters theservant found his master still sleeping. Unable to resist the temptation to admire himself once more in the glass, the servant paraded up and down the room, casting sidelong glances at the mirror. While so doing the . officer awoke. He was not' a little surprised to see what appeared to be himself strutting up and down the apartment. He soon discovered, however, that the ap{)arition was his servant, and anxious to learn what the unusual masquerade was for, kept quiet. The servant after two or three turns sat down and leisurely drew off the spurred boots, divested himself of other articles of uniform in thg(ilr order, and 'then, heaving a sigh, said:

“Ilt's mighty wellover.”? T should think it is,” eried the officer; ‘‘what d’ye mean, you rascal, by put.tinf yourself into my uniform, eh?” “Ididn’t know you were awake, sir; do you know what time it is?’ The officer had forgotten that he was on duty, but it now flashed upon him at once. flumpini from the bed, he looked at his watch. : ‘‘ Half-past four! My heavens, T'm ruined!”’ , ' Then, turning to the servant, he said: ¢ Now, then, why didn’t you call me at one o'clock? Do you know what you’ve donep”’ o | v segie. b might as well have tried to awaken a dead man. I used every ‘means to awake you, and you will see by.the stains on your linen that I even delM§ed your head with water.” *“Too late to take the guards now,” groaned the officer; ‘‘the night has passed away agd day is breaking.” ¢ Never mind, sir; cheer up! The ‘grands rounds’ visited the guards; everything is correct. Just make out Yyour report as if you had taken the guards.,” =~ = ¢ . ‘““What d’ye mean? : - “I mean that I have been the ‘grand rounds’ to-night, and acted the part so well that not a soul suspected but that it was you. Now you know why I had on your uniform.” L The officer stared at his man a moment. : : . ‘Do you mean to say that you have personated me and taken the guards?”’ ““Yes, sir; that’s it. I persondted you.” ‘ - The officer grasped the servant's ha:nd. 3 : J ““Ashton,” said he, ¢ you have done me a great service to-night. I shan’t fol§et 6w A Nor did he forget it, and the servant kept his counsel so well that the incident would never have become known but for the officer himself, who blurted it out one evening while in his cups, to some of his associates. The story was too good a one to keep, and it quickly spread over the garrison. The authorities, however, paid no attention to it, and the officer did not suffer from the expose.—Boston Commercial Bulletin.

Asa Bean’s Escape. One of the early settlers of Wilton, Me., was thoroughly convinced that bears are fond of ‘‘beans.” The time he became so sure was when bruin chased him across a clearing and up a tree. The Lewiston Journal tells the rather laughable story: - After making lively time through the woods for some distance, with the bear close upon him, he began to think for some better means -of escape. He knew that if he climbed a huge tree, the bear could climb as well as he. A small tree the bear could not climb, as bears climb by hl:lgging their paws around the tree, and it requires one of considerable size. . Bean | accordingly determined to climb a small tree; although the bear was in .ijrather close pursuit, and was liable to have a piece of him before he could get above her reach. He chose his tree and went up lively, just escaping the bear, who placed herself upon ber hind legs, with mouth wide open, jumping for him, gna.shing her teeth, and showing a great deal of disappointnment and rage, and seeming determined not to give him up. The bear, with wide-spread mouth, repeatedly jumped for him, and every time she jumped, he, though out of her reach, went up the tree a little further. Being anxious to get well out of the way of the bear, he did not notice how near the top of the tree he was getting, ‘nor how small that top was. : ~ The bear continued jumping and ‘tearing round, and Bean kept going a little higher, till suddenly, as he made ‘his lastghitch upward, crack went the tree, and he went to make a nearer acl guainta.nee with the open mouth of the BAr. | % Ty

Although he was only a' moment in going down, yet he said afterward that in that moment all the bad things he had ever done in his life passed before his mind. : The bear was scarcely better fip.repared for this sudden turn of affairs than was Bean himself. Whether the bad deeds of the bear &assed throughh her mind or not while Bean was crashing through the tree-top, we are not informed. She evidently thought something terrible was about to happen to her, and by the time Bean struck the ground, she, frightened by the noise and commotion, took to her heels and ran, leaving Bean to make his way home at his leisure, which opportunity he was not slow to improve. ‘

—When the office seeks the man it does not find him loafing on the street corners.—N. O. Picayune. - :

.3 , } Youths’ Department. _——.~—.—3:._'__—_ - A LITTLE GI RL’S WONDER. WaaT do the birds say, I wonder, I wonder, With their ohitter and chatter? 1t sn't all Do jtheybaleol‘ni." do they fret at some boggle or under, As we fret, as we ’seold.du after day? Do their hearts ever ache, I wonder, I wonder, At anything else than the danger that comes. When some enemy threatens them over or under ‘t he great, leafy boughs of their gréat, leafy . homes? e st Do sl;hey vow to be friends, I wonder, I wdnder, _With promises fair and promises sweet, Then, quick as a wink, at a word fall asunder, As human friends do, in & moment of heat? But-day after day I may wonder and wonder, And zfik them mno end of such questions as ese— : ; With chitter, and chatter, now over, now under, The big, leafy boughs of the big, leafy trees. They dart and they skim, with their bills full of - plunder, : o : But; never a word of an answer they give. Anl never a word shall %gef., though | wonder From morning till night, as long as I live. - '—Nora Perry, in St, Nicholas for May,

Self-Made Men. It is a noteworthy fact that, in our own country at least, a large majority of the men who achieve success belong to the class of self-made men—that is, they have started from small beginnings, without a thorough and systematic education, beginning the battle of life earl’{, relying upon iard labor and indomitable energy for their “ad‘vancement. gk s Let the reader run over a list of the prominent merchants, publishers, manufacturers and professional men of our own city, and, in nine cases out of ten, he will find them to have.been poor boys—the sons of country clergymen, struggling to support their families on narrow stipends; of poor farmers, com})elied to work early and late for a liveihood, or of mechanics, glad to secure an income of a few hundred dollars. Nurtured in the hard but valuable school of poverty, their sons turned cheerfully toragged toil, and won success by energy and persistence. , T Bt Of Samuel Appleton, a prominent Boston merchant, who died a millionaire, it is related that, when fourteen, his father, a New Hampshire farmer, hired him to assist a drover of cattle ten miles through the woods. For this service the father received twelve and a half cents! The service was so satisfactorily performed, however, that the drover gave the boy six and a-quarter cents extra, and this was the first money that the future millionaire could call his own. N\ : Amos Lawrence started in business with a capital of a thousand dollars, which his father, contrary to his wishes, raised by a mortgage upon his small farm. | *

Peter C. Brooks, also a Boston millionaire, was the son of a country minister, and removed to Boston on attaining his majority,; with no capital but his energy and a good, common school education. The great insurance interests of Boston originated with him. Mr. Brooks left three millions of dollars, and three distinguished sons-in-law— Rev. Dr. Frothingham, Kdward Everett and Charles Francis Adams. Cyrus W. Field, David Dudley Field, Rev. br. Field and Judge F ielcf ~of the United States Supreme Court are the sons of a minister in Western Massachusetts. The original Harper Brothers were poor boys, of country origin, who owed their successto their deserts. ~ But instances of success from small beginners are not confined to our country, though here a poor boy has a greater chanceof rising than anywhere else in the world: Early in .the century a young man, with- a staff in his hand and a knapsack on his back, presented himself at the office of a Greek merchant in Trieste.. The merchant, pleased with his appearance, gave him a place in his office. Years passed, and this young man ‘is known as Mr. Bruck, the great banker, Minister of Finance of the Austrian Empire, and the father of the railway system of his country. o e

Lafitte, the great French banker, started as a simple clerk, filling at last the position of President of the Council of |Ministers.. . Sir William Forbes, the eminent Scotch banker, to whom Walter Scott dedicated one of the cantos of Marmion, entered as an apprentice at fifteen the house of which he afterward became the head. Jamsetjee -Jeejeebhoy, the great Parsee merchant, was the son of a man so poor that he botht and sold old bottles for a livelihood. The son achieved such eminence that he received the honor of knighthood from the En%lish Governmeént. = This list of self-made men might be indefinitely prolonged. It should serve as an encouragement to the boys who, though humbly placed, are ambitious to rise. It should be added that sometimes success brings arrogance, and the self-made man is liable to make himself ridiculous by his pretensions. ¢“Thank Heaven, 1 am a self-made man,’ was the pompous, boast of one of this class. ‘That relieves the Almighty of a great responsibility,’’ observed a Scotchman, with dry sarcasm. Those who regard their own success with modesty, and strive, in gratitude, to help forward those who are sitnated ‘as they once were, are & credit to their country and a blessing to their kind.— N. Y.rgVeekly. '

My Neighber’s Robin. ‘ My neighbor, Mrs. Gray, had a pet robin last year, whose story is worth telling. o She found the young bird" on the ground, where he' had fallen from the nest; and to save him from a miserable death, took him into the house, neyver thinking that he would live long. - She fed him, however, with chopped meat, and gave him water by squeezing a wet sponge against his bill; and the little thing not only began to grow, but became so tame that she could do angthing with him. _ 3he named him ¢ Robbie,” and when she called; he would come for foed, and hold up his head foy a drink when he saw the sponge.' . His slee%ing-gla.ce was in a back gantry, although he flew about the ouse at pleasure, and was fond of staiingkbemde' her baby girl. - Thinking it too bad to keep him a prisoner, she one day let him out’ 9t

doors, never expecting to see him again. ‘What then W&:%!Bl’ surprise on Eoingl’fi’out and calling ‘< Robbie!” to ear him answef from among the trees, and then come flgllnng to her shoulder. ~ After that, robin was let out every morning; and every'night came to the pantry window: to be admitted. : One morning she drew her little %iliz'l out in her carriage along theside-walk, and the bird came down: from a tree, liihted on baby's shoulder, and so rode, where she did, and this same thing was done day after day. After a time, Mrs. Gray went out of town for a week, shutting up her house, and leaving the child with its nurse at a neighbor's; and she 'chargedi the nurse to feed Robbie, and let him ip at: the pantry window as usual, but she forgot it the very first day. = ; : ;J.gust at dark, however, as she was sitting in the neighbor’s house, there came a rushing sound across the window, two or three times over, and she cried, ‘* Why, that must be our Robbie!”’ Sure emough, the bird had been to his place, an,g finding noentrance, had, some way--who kripws_ how ?—disclcl)verqd where the child was, and gone there. - v ;

~ Robbie remained with the family until cherries were ripe, when there came a flock of robins to the trees, and when they. left, the dear little fellow went with them, and came back to his mistress and pantry no more. : . But this year a 'very tame robin has' come round the house, and we all believe it is' the self-same pet.— Youth's Qompanion. = i :

. Think a Moment, Boys. Bovs do a great many thoughtless and foolish things ¢ for fun,” that mortify them very much in the remembrance. To have been caught in somebody’s melon patch, or stealing a neighbor’s choice fruit, ortaking a gate off its hinges, or crawling under a showman’s tent, or playing any kind of a trick to the injury of another, and that has to be accomplished in a sneaking way, won’t seém very smart if you ever grow to be a man of sense. %ou will hate it, and wonder that you could ever have thought it sharp.. . Don’t flatter yourself that the worst thing about a mean act is in being caught at it or found out: You can’t be low, or vicious, -or tricky without somebody knowing it, and it does not take long for a good many to find out. It takes extraordinary talent and deception to have a good reputation conceaiing a bad character, -dnd it is never worth trying for. The way to seem to be trustworthy is to be trustworthy. There was never yet a boy who was manly, honest and worthy of confidence that people did not find him out and give him his due. : . You can’t afford to trifle with your reputation: If you descend to inde-cent-and immoral conduct you will soil your character and hurt your prospects no matter what your friends may do for you, orhow you may try to conceal from good peo’{rle that you do these things. Just so ong‘i‘l'as you allow yourself to practice the hubits that are condemned by pure, upright, straightforward people of integrity— whether you do it openly or on the-sly, you will make no progress in the formation of a fine character, or in building up a good reputation. ‘So when you are tempted to ‘any low, 'tricky, dishonest, mean or unworthy act, stop long enough to think what 'the effect is going to be upon your own soul, your own mind, your own reputation, if thatis your strongest motive, and dén’t do it.—Ceniral Christian Advocate. ; » :

; Queen of May. " The Queen of May was chosen yesterday. She got up at an early hour, hunted up her furs and overshoes, borrowed a pair of mittens, and was duly escorted to the green forest. The forest wasn’t.the only green tking around there. There was the grass, for instance. ' 'The programme for the Ist of May is the same all over this State. The young folks gather in the beautiful forest. They think they hear the glad son%s of ten thousand birds, but that’s where they are lame. What they hear is the voice of a half-frozen blue-jay or the caw of a disappointed crow. The crowd may sit down on an old log and shiver, or stand up and shake—it's all the same’ to the Ist of May. If anyone has brought any pro'visions along, the joyous crowd turn to and eat them up. If there are no provisions the happy band give early leeks the grand bounce. Soon after this event festivities begin. After these have subsided the Queen is led upon the platform. If the platform doesn’t break down she.is all right; if it does break, her lovers have another fight. - Then she is crowned. A young man -with a bad cold in the head tries to say °

something sentimental and beautiful, and she wipes her nose and. tries to look like an. angel. Then ,somebody hits the orator with a toad-stool, the Queen’s mother appears with fire in her eyes, and such of the anfielic band as don’t care to dig more leeks or hunt for spice-bush and sassafras go home and take the rest of their cough medicine. 1f the Queen ever gets over her cold she marries some disguised Duke and returns once a year to put on style over her former schoolmates. If catarrh sets in she secures the agency for the sale of a fountain pen and lives to ; good old single ‘age.—Detroit Free PEBSL . mE el % :

—A Spanish paper has published what purports to be. a statistical table collected %y a Member of the English Parliament, relative to the matrimonial relations of the geople in th&City of London and the County of Middlesex. It appears from this that there are 873,681 mdrried people in the districts named, and they are classed under the following ca.te‘Eories: Of wives who have left their husbands thereare 1,872; husbands who have fled from their wives, 2,371; married people divorced, 4,720; married people living in pergetual warfere, . 191,023; those who hate each other, bu - dissimulate in pub1ic,.162,800; those who live together in perfect indifference, 510,152; those who are apparently happy, 1,102; those who are relatively happy, 185;those who are really happy, 6. =~ = . —The man who married above his station was a railroad-conductor.