Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 8, Ligonier, Noble County, 12 June 1879 — Page 7

The Zigonier Banner, ; LiGO’;\ll.l?:R.x_' '_Ff:—n" m;;;lz;:m.a.

. «“HE AND BHE.” ' ~ “‘She is dead)” ;tliéy'said to him iy Come away: ! Kiss her and leave her—thy love is clay!” ' They smoothed her tresses of dark brown hair: . Qn her forehead of stone they laid it fq‘n'; ! Over her eyes that gazed too much They drew the lids with a gentle tonch; . Witha tender touch they closed:up well % "The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell; About her brows and beautiful face - "They tied her veil and her marriage lace, And drew on her white feet her white silk shoes— Which were the whitest no eye could choose— And over her bosom they crossed her hands. . * Come away!"” they said; " Glod understands.” ' And there was silence, and nothing there = .But silence, and scents of eglantere, . " And jasmine, and roses, and rosemax;y{ e - And they said: ‘' Asa lady should lie, lies she. 'And they held their breath as they left the room, With a shudder, to glance .at its stillness and gloom. v e e ; " But he who loved her too wal’to dread The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, He éit his lamp and took the key - And turned it—alone again—he and she.’ He and she; but she would not speak, _ "Tho’ he kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek. ' "He and she; yet she would notsmile, e .. Tho’ he called her the name she loved erewhile. He and she; still she did not move To any one passionate whisper of love. - : Tken he said: ‘** Cold lips and breasts without breath, ' ' i : I 8 there no voice, no ianguaae of death? - * Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, . But to heart and to soul distinet, intense? “ See now: I will listen with soul, not ear; | What was the secret of dying, dear? “* Was it the infinite wonder ofall ; That you ever could let life's flower fall? - “ Or was it a greater marvel to feel ?' The perfect calm o’er the agony steal? : : - ** Wasthe n%ilra.clé greatm: to find how deef;_ ; Beyond all re}}ms sank downward that sleep? © +*Djd life roll back its records, dear, U / And show, as they say it does, past things clear? “ And was it the innermost heart of the bliss' "To find out, so, 'what a wisdom love is? “ O perfect dead! O dead most dear, - 1 hold the breath of my soul to hear! | AT listen as deop as to horrible hell, : ~ As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. : o 5 i ~ “ There must be pleasuredn'dying, sweet, '|, ' To make you o placid from \liaead to feet! ** 1 would tell you, darling, if I were dead, = . . And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed—i § & { **.l would say, though the Angel of Death had laid | His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. ““You' should not ask vainly, with streaming . eyes, ~ e Which of all deaths was the chiefvist surprise, “‘ The very strangest and suddenest thing ‘ Of all the surprises that dying must bring.”’ . Ah, foolish world; oh. most kind dead! ; - Though he told me, who will believe it was said? Who wili believe that he heard her say, ‘ ‘With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way: ~ * The utmost wonder is this—l hear : .’ And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear; ** And am your angel, who was your bride, _ And know that, though dead. I have never died.” —f«fdwin Arnold, author of ‘‘* He who Died at lzan.*’ AN ! 2

LAMBKIN’S ESCAPADE. How He Maintained thwe Honor of - His Counn"y Against a Frenchman. MRr. SyLvAN LAMBEKIN, of W&adham, having passed his examinations not without honor, and having repaired to Paris to take a week’s repose after his arduous labors, was mgstified one morning when, on awakening in his room at the Hotel du Louvre, he found on his night table.a card bearing these words: ¥ e Captain de Tartarin, Third Cuirassiers, and Lieutenant de Flamberge-Auvent, Fifth Horse . Chasseurs. will wait upon Mons. Lambkin at eight o’clock to-morrow (Wednesday.) - - .- It is to be feared that Mons. Lambkin had drunk too much punch over night, for he could not recollect at all under what circumstances he had made the acquaintance of MM. de Tartarin and De Flamberge. Nor could he imagine why these warriors intended to .-call upon him at so early an hour in ' the morning. He sat np in his bed, ,rubbing his eyes and tiying to collect ‘his reminiscences of Wwhat had happened since that hour on the previous night when he .had sallied forth in a dress coat and crush hat to attend a masked ball at the opera. He remembered having'&)ut on a cardboard nose; having ‘danced; having stoed treats of bottles of champagne first to a black domino, then to i Pink one, then to a blue one. ' After, imt. it seemed to him ~that he had gone off with the blue domino to sup at the Cafe Anglais, but then he could remember no more. He glanced round the room, and saw his clothes so neatly folded on a chair that it was evident he had not placed them there himself. Somebody must have undressed him; and that somebody had removed his boots, 80 it must-have been a waiter. Next Sfii'va.n-» Lambkin looked at the clock on the mantleshelf, and perceived that it was about to strike eight. The following minute there was a knock at his door, and two s.plendid-lookinf gentlémen of military bearing walked into the room. The -one was tall, stout and dark; thé other lighter of complexion and build, b equally erect and strong; both 'had waxed tips to their mustaches, and they could have been recognized for cavalry officers anywhere, though they wore civilian clothes. ' e ‘‘ Bonjour, mon cher monsieur,” cried th% first, jovially. ‘‘Not up yet? ' Ah, well.' We have half an hour to spare, 80 you have time to dress at your easel’' ' o . ; ;i ~~ «] do not understand,” said Lambkin, shaking the two hands that were roffered to him. = Then it occurred to gim that he must have invited this pair of strangers to breakfast. ‘‘T'll be ready in ten minutes,”’ said he, ‘“and i rinfi up the waiter. -Pra?'- excuse me for*having overslept myself.. What do you like for breakfast—fried fish, - game?”’ e * Oh, we shan’t have time to breakfast,”” answered the dark and stout officer. *““We'll do that by and by; besides, poai’ouq “eating: mollifies the nerves. - We'll just go down stairs and order some black cofie;' and you shall takea.orutf‘bb!om"’ltarting."’ T *Starting for where?”” echoed

-Lambkin. He had a vague idea that ' he had asked somebody to take him to ‘see the Catacombs, and he wondered whether this might be the object of the &mjected expedition. ‘‘Excuse me, essieurs, but 1 have entirely forgotten all that has happened last night.” “Aha!” said the stout_officer, with a la\éé'h, in which the other joined.. ‘““Well, well, that can happen. to all of us. But we must introduce ourselves, then; I am Captain de Tartarin, and this is my friend, Lieutenant de Flam-berge-Auvent. We have the honor to be your two seconds.” ' ““My seconds?’’ echoed 'Lambizin, staring. G ; *¢Yes! we came forward to take your part, last night,when you were insulted by that whippersnapper into whose faisedr you threw the plate of lobster salad.’ ; :

_ “I do not understand,” repeated -Lambkin, rubbing his head. ¢ But why did I throw the lobster salad into his face?» : | . - *“ He accused you of h‘aving insulted a lady related to him. Then he abused your country and countrymen all round, sayinf yvou were afraid of the Russians and bullied the Zulus. This was more than gou could -stand, and we sympathized with you, for if we were in England and heard anybody attack France, we should act as you did. So we stood by %’ou.” . “lam sure I thank you,” faltered Lambkin, in as good French as he could command. *‘lt's very good of you, I'm sure; but now—now, what is to be the result of all this?” ‘“You meet your antagonist on the old race-course of Vincennes punctually at half-past nine with pistols,’’ answered Tartarin, complacently. ¢ You are each to have two pistols, and to fire a couple of shots at twenty paces. As soon as you had accepted our services we placed ourselves in communication with the seeconds on the other side, and it was decided that such insults as had been exchanged could not be wiped out by a mere mock duel. The other side wanted a duel to the death.”’

‘“ Ah, quite so 0,”” muttered Lambkin; ‘“and may I know my antagonist—my bloodthirsty antagonist’s name?"’ The officers laughed, thinking he in‘tended to joke, but he was as serious ‘as a sexton at a burial. He felt that ‘the honor of his country had somehow got into his keeping temporarily, and that he had a bad headache—neither of which were jocular reflections. Lieutenant de Flamberge informed him that his epponent was a M. de Craquetot—a young quommeux, a fanfaron whose head would be much steadied by getting an ounce of lead into it.. This said, they requested Lambkin to make haste and dress, and they left him, repeating that they would wait for hiw in the coffee-room below. When tihey had gone, Lambkin turned out of bed and gmd atrhis socks in consternation. Here a usually well-behaved young man, who had been piously brought up by a maiden aunt at Bath, whose heir he was; and this excellent relative warned him when he started for Paris of the many pitfalls that would beset him there. ghe had strongly objected to his-visiting what she called the Capital of Sin, but he had disregarded her advice, saying he wished to perfect himself in the use of the French tongue, and here was the result! Only -the day before Sylvan Lambkin had cogitated as to what.euphonious periphrases he should use to intimate to his aunt that he had suffered some pecuniary losses and wanted remittances; but what would his aunt say if it reached her that he had fought a duel after a night carousal, and had been the -aggressor. Perhaps he should be wounded or killed; perhaps he would kill the other man and be tried for murder; what ‘would his aunt say then? For the moment the honor of his country weighed very heavily on poor Lambkin’s shoulders. i $

It would be absurd to say that he did not consider whether there’ would be any means of backing out of the duel. He wondered whether, if M. de Craquetot withdrew the expressions on England, he (Lambkin) could (metaphorically) withdraw the plate of lobster salad; but he saw this would not do. And that impalpable, sometimes derided thing, National honor, has such a hold on honest minds that this Oxzmia.n, who had never wielded a pistol or a foil, felt he would brave M, de Craquetot’s bullets a dozen times over sooner than blanch once in the presence of two French gentlemen who had relied on his pluck. So he dressed and went down-stairs to the 'd_iningroom, where his two seconds were waiting. They were capital fellows, - who forced him to swallow a cup of strong coffee, and then, oun the princigle of giving a hair of the dog that had bitten him over night, administered a glass of brandy. All three then sallied out together to a brougham which the officers had hired. -On the front seat lay a flat box, with a brass binding, and which evidently contained the implements of the fray. The sight of it made Lampkin’s flesh creep. ¢We have sent a note to my regimental surgeon,” whispered De Tartarin, patting him on the shoulder. ‘‘He is quartered at Vincennes, ‘and will meet us on the ground.” :

‘¢ Quite 80,”” rejoined Lambkin, not much cheered by this gay communica-’ tion, and he jumped in. During the whole of the drive that ensued he kept asking himself how, when and where he could possibly have insulted M. de Craquetot's fair relative. He supposed it must have been at the opera ball; but, being little used to insult ladies, he cursed the effervescing beverage which had apparently dragged him down from the heights of his noble nature. The site chosen for the deadly encounter with firearms was a mostfavorable one for such work. Behind the grand stand of the race-course lies a ga.tch of turf, sheltered on the one side y & clump of trees, on the other by the inclosure of what was once the weiih“i_pg ring. A couple of gentlemen might exchange 'shots for an hour in that sweet spot, and all creation rema.iix\'iinora.nt of it! Add to this that it was a lovely mdrning, fresh and clear—just the weather for turning out of bed early and taking a nice countr{ drive. , . oy . Lambkin and his friends were the first to arrive on the ground, and there

‘met a polite gentleman in spectacles, who proved to be the military surgeon.| On being introduced to Lambkin he felt his pulse and nodded without makin%c ‘remark. A Few ‘minutes later a cab hove in view, and there presently descended from it a young mian with an eyc-glass and a cigar, and two other well-dressed Frenchmen, likewise smoking. Lambkin's seconds - forthwith raised their hats, and the Englishman mechanically imitated them. These courtesies were repeated when the two groups came within speaking distance of each other. :

The young man with the eye-glass was M. de Craquetot. He was small and dapper, but perfectly cool; and Lambkin was secretly dismayed at the look of implacable determination in his face. He shook his head peremptorily when his seconds mm};, as it seemed, a last attempt for form’s sake to smooth matters; whereupon these two entered into colloquy -with MM. de Tartarin and de Fiamberge, while the pair of principalssstood aloof. In less than two minutes the preliminaries were settled; then twenty paces were measured, and four pistols were loaded. “‘Here, take these two,”’ said de Tartarin, advancing toward Lambkin, ‘and mind you don’t fire till I drop my }’l,andkerchief, after the words, one, two. ; :

" There was.a huge lump in Lambkin’s throat, but he took the pistols. M. de Craquetot had thrown away his cigar, and stood facing him, exposing, however, but one side of his body. Captain de Tartarin took up a position out of reach of accidents and clapped his hands, adding sharply: ¢ One—two—now fire!”” and he dropped the handkerchief. |

Four reports seemed to bang out immediately; Lambkin heard a thud on his hat, and felt something like a prick ‘on the fleshy ‘part of his hand. His ' headdress had been transpierced, and ‘his thumb grazed, but blood was flowing from it. As fer M. de Craquetot, he lay on the ground writhing, with one bullet in: the calf of his left leg and the other in his collar-bone. Poor Lambkin turned icy ¢old at the si¥ht. ‘Mong Diou! 1 have killed him!” cried he, and he ran forward with both hands extended. ¢¢ Mossoo, I beg your pardon; I meant to fire in-the air., See ‘what a muff I am. Are you hurt? Oh, my goodness!” These were his words. The Frenchman,raised himself on an elbow and gallantly held out a hand. ““Never mind,”” said he, faintly. ¢ Only next time you come to Bourges remember we are a sensitive people, and don’t criticise ladies’ bonnets too loud in public.”” : ‘“ Bonnets—Bourges!”’ echoed Lambkin, aghast. ‘¢ Why, I have never been to Bourges in my life.”’ = = . i ““What?"’ ejaculated M. de Craque- - tot, between two moans of pain. ¢ Are you not the Englishman who ten days . ago was staying at Bourges, and insulted a lady in the dining-room of the Lion d’Or?” | “ God forbid! What an idea! I never, never insult ladies,” protested Sylvan Lambkin. - ; |

‘“ Well, then, you look very like him; or perhaps last night I was a little giddy, and had lost my memory for faces. However, libeg your pardon.” *“ No, I beg yours,”” pleaded Lamb-. kin, horrifiec% at the sight of blood. ‘ Enough of this, l\fessie‘urs,” interposed the Surgeon. ‘¢ You will become good friends by-and-by, no doubt. Meanwhile, let-me bind up Monsieur’s wounds.”’ - _ ¢ And as for you, my dear friend, I advise you to return to Ifindon,” -said M. de Tartarin, amicably, to Lambkin; 1 dare say you don’t want a month’s imprisonment.”’ ; : ‘ No; but I'll stay to share my adversary’s fate, whatever it is,”’ said Lambkin, chivalrously. . ¢“I have an aunt, Messieurs, and she is nervous; but I'll explain it was all a mistake.” And he did, writing a fortnight later from the prison of Ste. Pelagie, where he had been sentenced to sojourn for twenty-eight days. One is pleased to add that his pious relative forgave him on - hearing that he had fought ¢ for Old England.””—London Truth.

Decadence of Agriculture in the Eastern and Middle States. . THE New York Commercial Bulletin gives statistics in relation to the agriculture of the State of New York, and applicable, as it affirms, to the States of ' Connecticut, New Jersey and Pennsvlvania, which are calculated to arrest the attention and suggest important reflections. As to the relative decadera(lze of farming'in the Eastern and Middle States, there can be no, question, although one would have supposed that the States of New York and Pennsylvania would have made a better showing in this respect than they are credited with. Taking horses, sheep, milch cows and swine,ntgenumber of animals has diminished in New York, from 1850 to 1874, from 5,155,000, to 4,008,000. The wool crop has fallen off 2,000,000 pounds. The five principal cereals have increased.about 4} per cent. The city and suburban population has increased at the rate of 34.93 per cent., while the rural population incrgased only at the rate of 2 per cent. Now, in 1850, the State of New York was rich in its lands, its rural population and the independence of the farmer. The svil is fertile, the inhabitants industrious, economical and intelligent. Nowhere in the world was there, twentyfive years ago, a people that promised more or better for their.-pr?ress, improvement, pecuniarily, and satisfied %zrmanency as tillers of the soil. TFhe nesee Valley was the granary of the East; in other sections, there was an equal, if notas noted, prosperity, while the State, as a whole, was popularly considered almost the garden of the country. Immense as has been the accumulation of capital in the Empire State since 1850, the agriculturists are relatively ;“mor, and with but little prospect of improving their condition. - There is to be setugf from this fien-' eral estimate the dairy business, which has very largely increased. The conclusion drawn by the Bulletin is that the States above named are fast ver%; ing to. a condition of things in whie farming will virtually bes confined to dair{ farmin% and the growin%of ve%: etables for ¢i );i})oa)nlatwns. he Bu letin charges this deplorable change to

the railroads. Its argument is that the roads have so discriminated in favor of the larger Western treights that the producers in these States have been overweighted in the charges made them for freight on the one hand, and /in the cheapened product of the West on the other. There isno doubt, there can be none, as to the truth of this assumption, to a de§ree of the utmost consequence. But for all that has happened, depreciation of the pleasure and profit of rural life, the railroads are not responsible. Thefarmer who owned his land, and had some money in bank, need not have put a mortgage on his place because of the railroads. There has been too much anxiety to increase possessions; the old-time prudence in expenditure has beeh abandoned;; specu-' lative enterprises have been entered upon; the sons have preferred trade to plowing;- the daughters have forsaken the kitcien for the parlor or the villa%'e. None of the young folks are willing to work as their parents worked, while they wish to spend more money than they earn. All over the country the same thingis true. Railroads have undoubtedly, by bringing town and country nearer together, stimulated this phase of our civilization; but the railroads have not created, they have only made more conspicuous, the disposition to avoid work and live beyondone's means.—-Providence (R. 1.) Journal.

FACTS AND FIGURES. Mg. CAIRD, the agricultural statistican, estimates the capital of English landlords at $1,000,000,000, and of English tenants at $2,000,000,000. - - THE land in Ireland is cultivated by 600,0000 tenants, who occupy an average of thirty-two acres each. There are 16,000 landlords, of whom 1,942 own two-thirds of the whole country. ENeLIsH capitalists have projected three different railway lines, aggregating 850 miles in length, into the interior of Africa, from points on the east coast. ‘ ' New HAMPSHIRE'S manufactures last year amounted to over $96,000,000, among them being $30,588,500 worth of cotton goods, $11,709,000 of boots and shoes, and $9,222,000 of woolens. AccCORDING to official statistics the number of emigrants from Germany in 1878 was 24,217, or 2,253 more than the previous ‘year. Of -these, 20,373 sailety to the United States, 1,048 to Brazil, 1,718 to Australia, and the remainder to the small South American States. ' e !

A VIENNA statistican has published a pamplet, in which he states that there are 102,830 persons in Europe 90 years old and upward, and that of those over 100 there are 241 women and 161 men in Italy, 229 woman and 183 men in Austria, and 526 men and 524 women in Hungary. ‘ ) A PARIs paper prints the following figures, which show the emigration from France in the last seven years: Year. HEmigrants.| Year. Emigrants. L. NN, L 0867 M. TOOMBIG T 08600 1374.._;..............7,000]1878._....... sa..ill4iaoo /0. 4400 ACCORDING to statistics just published, there were 18,738 young men studying at the twenty German universities during the winter semester -just, passed. Of these, 2,438 were studying’ theology, 5,106 law, and 3,537 medicine, 7,657 being inscribed in the philosophical faculty. Their ages ranged for the most part from 19 to 22 years. AcCCGORDING to acareful computation, the number of daily and weekly papers and other periodicals published on the face of our globe is 23,291. Of this number there are in Africa 50, in Australia 100, in Asia 387, in America 9,129, in Europe 13,625. Amon% European countries England publishes the largest number of journals, viz., 2,509; after which coraes France, 2,000; Italy, 1,226; Austria, 1,200; Russia, 500.

THERE is a curious district in Arizona called the Thousand Wells. It is on the western slope of Echo Cliff, remarkable for the reverberation of sound. The country lock is impervious sandstone, extensively striated with deep grooves, made by winter rains. Where the sand rock is friable large basins have been worn. These are so many reservoirs, which are filled in the rain-time, and which supply the country, with its cattle and people, through the long dry season of that climate: The great highway of travel pasges through the midst of the Thousid Wells. There are no other wdter sources, and without these naturals no life could exist. On the eastern slope of the range the country Yresents 8 striking contrast. Innumerable springs flow perennial. Verdure is rich, trees evergreen, fields cultivated and wigwams alive 'with people. THE principal rivers in the British Northwestern Territory, the Red, Assiniboine, - Saskatchewan (north and south branches), and the Peace, taken altogether afford navigation for 2,564 miles. Lake Manitoba and Lake Winnipegosis can easily be connected with the wuters of the Assiniboine and Saskatchewan by two small canals--one seven miles long, and the other two miles long—the cost of which would be about 850,000, thus giving direct connection between Winnipeg and Edmonton at the base of the Rocgy. Mountains, a distance of nine hundred miles as the crow flies. But the most remarkable water connection is found in the fact that by a canal of one mile, between Bi%ds_tone Lake and Lake Traverse, both in Minnesota, the Mississippi would be joined to Red River, thereby connecting New Orleans with Edmonton, a distance of over -five thous.nd -miles.— ‘Chicqu Times. LSRR

—The 'physicians are making a strengious . effort to save KElliott, the prize fighter, whose ribs were broken in the ¢‘discussion’’ with Dwyer. 1t is not that he is regarded as particularly worth saving, but fears are entertained that if he were to die it might interfere with Dwyer’s project of inviting some other brute to stand up and have his ribs -broken. There are meddlers in the world who would have Dwyer arrested on a charge of manslaughter if Elliott should fafi to' recover.—Delrovt K'ree Press. G ;

-—English ladies in hi(%h life are usually allotted about $2,500 a year for pin money. - - hid i

foy - - , o o -t e temrgon e Youths’ Department. e s T S e e LITTLE MARY'S SECRET. O LARKS! sing out to the thrushes, flir .And thrushes sing to the sky; . Sing from your nests in the bushes, ‘ And sing wherever you fly: , g For I'm sure that never another ' Buch secret was told unto You—-’ T've just got a baby brother! And I wish that the whole world knew. I bave told the buttercnps.&mly. , - And the clover that grqws\' by the way; And it pleases me each time, newly, - When I think of it dunn& the day; And I say to'm{:elf: ‘* Little Mary, You ought to be good as_ gou can, . For the sake of the beautiful fairy That brought you the wee little man.” : I'mifive years old in the summer, . And I'm getting (iuite large and tall; But I thought, titl I saw the new-comer, When I looked in the glass, I was small. And I rise in the morning quite early, To be sure that the baby is here, i For his bair is 80 soft and curly, : And his bands 80 tiny and dear! I stop in the midst of my pleasure— I'm so happy I cannot play— g -And keep peeping in at my treasure, To see how much he gains in a day. But he doesr.’t look much like growing, . Yet I think he will in & year And I wish that the days would be going, And the time when he walks would be here! O larks! sing out to the thrushes, And thrushes, sing as you SOAT; ¥or I think, when another s{)rm'z blushes, I can tell you a great deal more: 1 shall look from one to the other, .And say: " Guess, who I'm bringing to you?" And gou‘ll look—and see—he’s my brother! And vou'll sing, * Little Mary was true.” - —Mrs, L. C. Whiton, in June Wide Awake.

- TO-MORROW. “I wiLL do it to-morrow."’ 0 ¢lt should be done to-day. No one knows what to-morrow will bring.”” . “But, Uncle Granville, Aunt Jane wants « this weeding finished. The ‘weeds grow so fast this warm, damp ‘'weather they need to be pulled up root and branch.” B “Your Aunt Jane wanted the weeds pulled yesterday.” : “Yes, sir; but I was cleaning the cellar yesterday.” : ¢ The cellar ought to have been cleaned the day before. Youare a day behind in all your work, and you have been so ever since you came here.”’ ¢ Why, uncle! I try to work fast.” “You do work fast, but you are never ready to begin on time. You can finish the weeding to-day and set the plants to-morrow, but you must expect some inconveniences from fiounting to-morrow as better than to--4 .’1 St ’},‘his remark troubled Euston Davis. He feared he should be deprived of some pleasure by his procrastination; but after his uncle left him, he became so much interested in his work that he quite forgot the warning, and lay down to sleep that night without a misgiving as to the morrow. The next morning he awoke early, and looking from the window congratulated himself upon the weather as being favorable 'for transplanting. In a week’s time no one would know whether it was done to-day or the day previous.

He, however, had reason to remember the delay. He was busy at work -whe%he saw the family preparing for a drive, and was told that they were going to the lake for a day’s fishing. “I am sorry you are not ready to go with us, but those plants must be set,”’ said his aunt Jane, with a real sympathy for the boy, whose sad good-by and tearful face made her half repent leaving him at home. - , , ‘lt is a great. inconvenience to be a day behind, but we can’t wait for' you to catch up,”’’ remarked his uncle, as they drove away, while Euston looked after them regretfully. Such a long day as followed! There was time to accomplish far more than the prescribed task, Some good resolutions were formed, and many anticipations of better times indu‘lged’.7 When the party returned in the evening, and Mr. Davis requested his nephew to assist in dressing the fish which had been caught, the latter gut aside the book he was reading, and in which he was greatly interested, without a word in regard to waiting. | ‘“ Euston, I have seen a man to-day known by the name of ¢Old To-mor-row,’ ’’ said the uncle, as they worked together. ¢‘People say he never was known to:do anything until the day after time. le had a good farm given him by his father, but he was always behind ' with, his work. He never got his seed into the ground in season; so, of course he lost the best part of the time for the growing of his crops. He was behind with haying and harvesting, and his apples often froze on the trees. If there was a break in the fence, he let it go till his own or - his neighbor’s cattle trespassed on hisifields; and in the fall, when his sheep needed folding, he left them out till some of them died from exposure or were buried under the snow., He was always going to do all these things to-morrow. What kind of a farmer should you call such a man?”? : PRt i

‘« A poor one, of course, uncle. A farmer needs to keep everything right up to the mark.” =~ ‘“Yes, he does; but no more than others. If you lose a day, you may run after it all the year, but you will never overtake it. Old To-morrow was on: his wafi to the Poor-House this morn+ ing.. He mortgaged his farm and saw it sold at auction, all because he put off till to-morrow what should be done today. People all say he was a kindhearted man, but that didn’t save him from the natural consequences of his shiftless habits. He bought too late to take advantage of the market, and sold too late because 'he waited for the day which never comes.” bk

‘“What day was that?’ asked Euston. | i ‘To-morrow,"’ was replied. - ‘ ¢ But to-morrow does come, uncle.”’ ¢« Never, my boy. . What we talk of as ‘to-morrow’ will be to-day when it comes. We live only in the present, and 'a day lost is lost forever. %dany a General of a ?‘eat army has sacrificed thousands of lives because he delayed to move his troops- until to-morrow; and there are .tfiousa.nds of men in our country wretchedly poor because, when they were mere boys, they acquired the same habit which kept you at home while we wanted you at the lake. Present opportunities are real and %’old‘exr future oportunities are unreliable pnti shadowy.” “Then I take the foldén'and leave the- shadowy,” . exclaimed KEuston,

“When I am -a man, nobody shall <l3all me “Old To'-monjofin;v.; -But I know ots-of boys'who put off ¢ ings jusi ‘as mgch'as Iyiave,‘_ v:f,nd_ need to mihké ug for lost time just as much as 1 did. can tell youn, though, there’ll be one less after this. I'll look out for every today, and then I shall make sure of every to-morrow.” — Mary . Dwinnell thltis, n Well Spring. - o

Gran’ther = Greenways’ First Steam Bolle . = - ' DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT:—When I was a child, my lgarent’s- lived on a farm in Northern New York. We had no newslPafier,s-; ‘the Bible and the Pilgrim’s Progress were all our library, and toys and picture-books were seldom seen. , ' i . One autumn, Uncle Eben from Massachusetts came to pay us a visit, and in the long evenings he told me many things about the great world that lay beyond our homestead, and I was filled with a desire to. see and know more about it. But what interested me more was what he said about the wonders of steam; that already it ran mills and factories; and by and by it would drive ships and draw wagons at a rate of speed then unknown. = S

However, he could tell me very, little about the way this new sower was applied; ‘and I only learned that steam is -the vapor which rises from heated water, and that, to be made a force or power, it must bé shutup. -~ - _During the winter, I had little time {or chance to find out about steam; aft/er school came the chores, and at eight o’clock I was gla.d -to get to bed. fiut in the longer days of spring my wits eghn to work, and Imade up my mind 2‘find out something about this wonerful” power that was to change the world. Sk Lhdin . I put water into anold oil-can unt# it was half full, soldered the top on and pounded the spout flat. Lt ‘““Now,” said I, ‘¢ here is water shut gp ,131 a boiler. - T'll see what it will ol = : . ; Next morning, I was awake with the birds, and soon had ,a‘blazing woodfire in the kitchen and the kettle hanging on the crane. Then I set my can on one of the logs, where the flames would curl under the bottom and about its sides, and sat down on a cricket to see Wshat the steam would do. = The hard maple-wood burned with a strong flame, and filled the room with ‘a pleasant odor.. The tea-kettle sang, and strange mutgerings began in the oil-can. Ilooked at it with wide-open ° eyes. ' The noise wenton. Presently—‘““Bang!” went something, with a .noise like ‘a cannon, and I found myself on my back upon the brick Hoor, with hot ashes and burning coals on my body and legs. . il e The oil-can was found, twisted and torn all out of shape, in the meadow, an eighth of a mile away. It had gone up the wide chimney and over the orchard. I was so badly burned that I did not. get the whipping my father - promised me, when he snatched me up from the floor; but I have never forgotten the power there is in a wreath of mist, and from that day I never rested until T had a perfect steam-en- . gine of my own.—Gran'ther Greenway, wn St. Nicholas..- e e :

No Talking Required. - : It takes a_good talker to sell a refrigerator or a. cookstove, but when you come down to & lawn-mower they. sell themselves without any words to speak of.. When a citizen comes along and takes hold-of the handle of a mower, the agent has only to go out and say: e - ““Want a mower, eh? Well, we’ve got the boss. It combines the merits of all other mowers and ‘the faults of none. 1t was invented by an Eastern philanthropist, who gave patent to our firm for nothing, his sole object being to present the long-suffering public with a really good thing. Yes, sir, it's the boss, and next year all the other lawnmowers will be sold for -old iron or sh’ilPped to the heathen.” i : 'The citizen looks at the gearing, and the agent, who knows that no talking isrequired, continpes: - - ' ¢ o ‘“Runs as easiy as: a toy cart. My boy, who is only four years old, cut two acres of dg-ra.ss with this. machine yesterday and didn’t sweat a drop. No cog-wheels here to break; no springs to get out of re‘yffir; no shaft to wind up strings and rags. . Whg,- :Bir,” the mower I had last year killed two hired ’ men before July, used up four I_Fa,llons of oil, and I paid out seven dollars to ‘have it sharpened. . When we tookitto ‘pieces in the fall there were eleven ‘thousand feet of string wound around ‘the shaft.-' You can’t come the string ‘game on this mower—oh, no!” - ‘The citizen remarks thm? he may call again, and the agent says:* =~ . - “¢T’ll send this machine right up to your house to-day. Use it as '{on please. Mow grass, old hoops, bottles, cans, wire fences or stmmps, and if it doesn’t work the best of any mower | youever had send it back.and don’t pay acent. Work it yourself.. Haveyour wife flin’g-it around. . Let your boys rap it with the ax and split kindlings with the knives. I warrant- it to stand ev,erlythi-ng. - Next year it will be made to play tunes 95 ‘it works, and will then be a ‘hand-organ and lawn- . mower ecombined.”? - . -

- The citizen remarks that the price is ’ pretty high, and the agent jumps baeck - in/ astonishment and exclaims: - : “Too high! ' Great lands! but we are only charging you the price of castiront '{‘hat’s our game—to.sell for less ‘than cost this year and then ask fifty ‘dollars apiece next season. I simply “ask ?Ou at the rate of ashilling a pound for the castings, and charge you the same fer the handle that we pay. -An Eastern firm has s ,“rin%;;‘ ‘on - lawnmower handles this year, but next year we shall make ten miilions and give fl:gm ‘away. ‘I lose nine dollars on every mower that I sell, but they must be sold. Let's see—~what's your name and. number?m All right—be téxebre ab noon—no suit, no pay--good-bye—-awful hot, isn't it??*fig:tymigl'ifwhas. .t e P » —Eve was the first, and we reckon the only, woman who did not gather up her dress in both hands and yell at the slfi}'xctof a_snake.—OQilawa (Kan.) Republican, s