Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 12, Ligonier, Noble County, 10 July 1879 — Page 3

; ‘,/. . A, ? Che Ligonier Banuer, J. B. STOLL, Edi'tor and Proprtéibr. LIGONIER, : ¢ :- .INDIANA.

. PRITCHARD, THE ENGINEER. Rilcur on the track of thefifiyinfi train £ o Lay the imge bowlder. Quick as thought, . “Graspivg the throttle with a stéain - . ‘Tightened and terrible, Pritchard canght | .Holgof,the brake-bar. 'Oun its way, G - Crashing to headlong ruin, rushed Madly the engine, til} 1t lay - g Hurled on the bowlder, wrecked and crushed. Smitten with horror, pale with fear, Hastened the anxious crowd to see | "Whether the faithtul engineer - ] (Braver or better none thah he) ; Breathed as he stood there with his face Grand in its steadfast purpose set, ; v Showing the ordeal’s awful trace : Stamped on the rigid features vet. What did they find? One hand a-strain, : ‘Grasping the throttle with a clutch ‘Closer than death’s, and one in vain - Clinching the brake-valve bar with such Spasm of grip théy could undo | : _ Only with wrench of strength applied, Seeing the belt that pierced him through, » . Kailed to unglasp it; so he died. . . Died at bis post, as a brave man should, : Shirking no daty, danger, strife; - True to his trust, although it would Cost him —he saw it so—his life. These are the heroes, noblest far--Men who can meet without a tear .. Death, with their hands upon the bhar, - ‘. Eyen as Pritchard, the engineer! . —Marqgare: J. Preston, én N, Y, Evening Post.

THE HOME OF TWO WIDOWS, A WRITER in Lippincott’s Magazine tells the story related by Eustache, the postillion, to a:party who was visiting Belle-isle, near the coast of Brittany. He said: : . ““‘Five years ago Hubert Pichet married Francoise Albret. They were neither of them very young, for Hubert was at least thirty, and Francoise was nearly as old. But it was quite a suitable marriage; they had always lived in the parish 6f Bangor, and had known each other quite well since they were children. Hubert had been a Jobster-fisherman since he was a boy, and had saved a good deal of money to marry upon, for he was not hke some men that perhaps Monsieur has seen who never can lay by a franc. He had a brother who was a year or two older than I was at that time (I am twentythree now), and he had asked Jeannette Lanfranc, of Port Philippe to marry him. Others, it' may be, had asked ber similar questions, but Christopher Pichet was-the one she preferred above all others.” : ~ ““Was she pretty?’’ .Rollie interposes. ; o ¢ Monsieur, she was then, and is still, the most beautiful girl in Belle-isle-en-Mer:”” and the gleam in the young man’s eyes tells us more than his lips. 5 i ¢ Christophe and Jeannette,” he continues, ‘‘were to have been married six months after Hubert, but not long before the wedding-day the two brothers went -off on a fishing-trip, to be gone two days. But the two men never came back;’' and Eustache’s handsome face is quite, sad as he says this.. A dreadful stormr came up and the vessel was wrecked, The other men on board of her were picked up by a foreign steamer; but Hubert and Christophe were washed ashore next day at the foot of the cliffs here below us. Ah, Mademoiselle, that was a sorrowful dayfor the two poor women! It was long before they.could be consoled, but after a time Francoise ‘bought this little cottage that you see, and invited Jeanette, who was an orphan, to live with her, so they could always be near the spot where the two brothers were found. They have lived in the cottage ever since, supporting themselves by knitting and such work, which they sell at Palais on market days. As Francoise was. really a widow, and Jeannette was 'so soon to be married, the place where they live is always called ‘The Home of the Two Widows.” " "

Eustache pauses here, but looks as if he had more to say; so Rollie asks him if he knows the two widows. v ‘““But yes, Monsieur, I know them well. Jeannette is a distant cousin of mine, and I frequently visit them to see if I can do any little thing for them. It was partly to see Jeannette that 1 suggested to Monsieur the driving here tofiay.” And Eustache blushes just a little..- ¢«lf Monsieur and Mademoiselle must know,”” he._ resumes, ‘I have loved Jeannette for many years, even before Christophe Pichet asked - her to -marry him. I think she has§ always iiked me, but not in the way I wisheg. But it is so lopg since Christophe died that I think she feels differently toward me now, and it is very lonely for her here, with only Francoise for company. lam not quite poor, Monsieur. I have some money, and if Jeannette would ‘marry me we might- live very comfortably in Palais. But last month, when 1 said this to her, she said she could not leave Francoise, and Francoise said when she herself came here that she should stay here always.” “Could you _not persuade ¥rancoise to change her mind?’ I suggest. ¢lt would not be well for her to live in this lonely spot entirely by herself; but if she would go and make her home with you and Jeannette in Palais, do you not think Jeannette would consent to

marry you?’ B A pleasant light-comes into the young fellow’s' eyes. ¢ Perhaps, M’MYemoiselle,” he says, hopefully; and then we .all get into the carriage. Our read leads us by the cottage, and as we approach it a beautiful girl, to whom Eustache lifts his hat, appears at the door. : - *That is Jeannette,”” he tells us, a little ?roudly. “If the young:'Monsieur,” he says, with evident embarrassment, * would kindly consenf to -drive for a short distance along the ‘road, and then return, I could stop for a few moments at the cotlage.” - : Who could refuse a lover this little request? .Rollie cannot, at all events, and he willinfily takes the reins. Eustache thanks him.very gratefully, and, leaving the'carriage, is soon walking ~ up the’little path that leads to the coi- ' tage door. A shortdistance farther on we notice the entrance to a beautiful valley which seems to extend across the ‘island, and turning up this we find our route 80 charming that neflz Mafir elapses before we return to the ge. - As we come in sight of it again we see

Eustache waiting for us and looking very happy. - - “*Has she consented?’’ Rollie questions. . D . ¢ But yes, Monsieur,’’ the happy fellow responds; ‘it is all settled. Francoise says that if Jeannette wishes to marry me she will come and live with us in ‘Palais; so Jeannette says that she will have me, good-for-nothing fellow that I am. And it will be very soon,” he adds, as he takes the reins. ; “How soon?”’ we both agk. ' ““In two weeks,”” Eustache answers, gleefully; ¢ and ‘if Mademoiselle and the young Monsieur could come to the wedding we should feél very much honored, Jeannette and L.” “We could come over from Auray again,”” my nephew suggests; eagerly. . -¢¢l do not know that I care to undertake “the journey again,”” I answer; **but you certainly might if it would give Eustache any pleasure.”’ ¢ All right, Aunt Sue!”’ and as the invitation is accepted on his part, Eustache looks, if ipossible, more happy than before. .

The young Frenchman tells us all about himself ;md Jeannette on the homeward drive, and we: cannot help becoming exceedingly interested in himself and his fortunes. . - ¢+ He is a better fellow even,’’ Rollie says to me on our return, ‘‘ than Jean Renaud, whose yweddin,t_é we attended at Quimper, you remember.”” ““You think so because he is nearer your own age, I imagine, Roland.” The next day, when [ propose leaving for Auray, our good landlord’s face is the picture of dismay. ¢‘Leave Belle-isle-en-Mer without having enjoyed the bathing! Mademoiselle is joking. Is she not aware that people come from all parts of France for the bathing? And she will go away without ever thinking of it!” : ‘Monsieur Paradol has unconsciously raised his voice with each sentence, and the last one is almost a shriek. It is hard not' to laugh, the little man is so very ‘Flramatic in his manner and gestures. . I hesitate, and Mons. Paradol sees that I do. From that moment I anfi lost. And my nephew only aids and abets our voiuble landlord by suggesting that as lam fond of bathing I:miglft as well stay here and enjoy it until after Eustache’s wedding, and if anything is wanted from Auray we can send for it by the boat. * .

¢¢ And the month that we are to be at Auray?’ Isay to him. But I submit to my nephew, as I have done all along in the course of our travelsin Brittany, and consent to remain in Belle-isle. Mons. Paradol is delighted; his little gray-green eyes gleam with pleasure. | i ““Mademoiselle and the younger Monsieur shall not repent their decision,”” he assures us with much unction as he leaves us, bowing low; and the dinner that he sets before us that day is Onff to be affectionately remembered. There are but few guests at Moris. Paradol’s establishment, and his wish to retain us as long as possible is quite natural. Still, I am bound to say that he appears perfectly honest, and our hotel bill is perfectly reasonable in its charges. . A few more days go by very pleasantly. There is the bathing, so much extolled by our landlord, and the drives and "the walks to occupy our time, and the evenings Rollie improves by writing long letters to school friends in America. .

But worthy Mons. Paradol has evidently an ‘uneasy feeling lest time should hang heavy on our hands, and one evening he appeared at our open door with a tray full of books, which he deposits on a chair before speaking. ““Itis but to-day that I said to myself,”’ says the little ' man, retrospectively, as he smiles graciously af. us, ‘‘that it might be that even with the bathing Mademoiselle . and -the young Monsieur might weary of our Belle-isle-en-Mer, and wish to leave. I am distracted with. the idea. I say to myself, ‘What shall 1 do? Alas! I can think of nothing; 1 am miserable. I say to my sister, ‘The Americans have seen everything on the island; there is nothing but the bathingleft, and it may be they will not care to stay for that.” Then my sister says, ¢ Auguste, you can take them your books;’ and here Mademoiselle will observe that 1 have done as my sister advised. They are not many, but if ’—and he includes us both in a gracious bow and wave of the hand—““but if you will condscend to read them, they will occupy the time.”’ -1 thank Mons. Paradol for his attention, and assuring him that we intend to remain a week longer it is probable, lie departs, looking much relieved. It is a miscellaneous collection he has brought—volumes -left behind by several generations of travelers, I imagine, as so many differens tastes are represented. Chateaubriand’s ¢ Atala’’ is the first book I toek, and then ‘a volume of Alfred de Musset, and ‘next 4 Paper-covere,d copy of the ““Conseript.” : : - ¢“lf it should rain to-morrow,”” I say to Rollie, ‘“ we could pass a day ‘ very comfortably with Mons. Paradol’s books.” ° s

. The morrow, however, proves bright and sunny, and my nephew and 1 fi»;o out for a walk toward the city walls, intending after dinner to have Eustache drive us out to the Bangor lighthouse, which we were to have visited the day we went to the Roman camp, but forgot about till too late in the day. Our walk about the town and its massive walls absorbs most of the mornini, as we proceed quite leisurely, talking meanwhile first of the walls andVauban, their builder, and then of our pleasant French driver and his approaching marriage. e R I am going to Auray to-morrow,’’ Rollie says ¢ to purchase something for a wedding present for him; thatis, if you do not mind my leaving you for a day, Aunt Sue,” he adds. = ' ' We see no one about the ia,ssages or the courtyard as we enter the hotel on our return, but when we appear at dinner, two hours later, Mons. Paradol greets us with a very grave face. He ;safys but little, however, and we are left to wonder what has come over our usually vivacious Tandlord till after the dessert, when, as we are leaving the dining-room, Mons. Paradol says, entreaangly,v «“Will Mademoiselle and Monsieur stay but for a moment? I have something to say.”” As we pause

to listen to him he continues, addressing me: ¢ Ah, Mademoiselle, it is as if a son of my own were taken away. Only this morning I said to my sister, ‘When Eustache marries Jeannette Lafranc I will give him eight hundred francs, and I will have him to take my place at dinner;’ and now, Mademoiselle, it will never be. Eustache Frentin is gone; he is dead;’ and a tear glisténs on Mons. Paradol’s red cheek. ““Dead?®’ I exclaim, in pained surprise. ¢ How did it happen?” ““Dead?’ cries Rollie, his lip quiv-. ering., ¢ Oh, it cannot be! Mons. Paradol, you cannot mean it! Why, he was lookiug forward to taking us to Bangor this afternoon; and he took off his cap to us with such a pleasant smile as he drove off with those people from Vannes early this morning.” ‘“But. yes, Monsieur, it is all true. The two ladies from Vannes wanted him to drive to the cliffs near the camp of the Romans; and as one of them took oft her glove to pick some flowers near the edge her ring came off with it, and both rolled over the edge and lodged in a little hollow a few feet down. KEustache was always so polite —Mademoiselle must know that—snd he said that he. would climb down g#d get them. The ladies said that it was too dangerous, and that he must not, but Eustache said it could very easily be done. And so, Mademoiselle, it could have been on some" days, for I know the place, and when a boy I used often to climb down a little way to gatner a beautiful grass that grew there and nowhere else; but this time a strong wind must have been blowing toward the land, and have sent the waves higher up than usual, for the ladies said the rocks' looked very wet and slippery. Mademoiselle sees how it must have been with poor Eustache. Right before their eyes he lost his hold and fell into the sea. ‘Jeannette! Jeannette!’ they heard him cry as he fell, and then they heard only the noise of the waves.” \

Mons. Paradol pauses just here, much agitated, but in a moment he recovers himself and continues his sad story: ‘““There was no way to help Eustache; there were no men or boats at hand; and so the ladies drove back and sent the first men they could find to look for the body of mon pauvre Eustache. Then they came and told me. Ah, Mademoiselle, I am' an old man and I have seen much trouble, but to-day is the saddest of all my life. Eustache was like’ a son to me, and when he was but a boy I byought him here;”’ and the good man’s voice.trembles. : i My own eyes are fast filling with tears, and as for Rollie, he has gone to his room, unable to hear more. ¢¢ Mademoiselle will pardon me for telling her what is only my own affair, but when I was a young fellow like Eustache I loved his mother, but she did not know it, and before I could summon courage to tell her she married Pierre Frentin. Ah, that was long ago!”’ and Mons. Paradol sighs. I think it best not to ask him more about this, but inquire if Jeannette Lafranc knows of what has happened. . ‘¢ But.no, Mademoiselie, although it happened so near her. lam wretched. when I think, of her,” he exclaims, coming back to the present moment. ¢ Ah, good Mademoiselle,’’ he resumes, as a thought strikes him, ‘it is you who shall tell her the sad news.” , «JP J exclaim,in dismay. The task is one that I would rather leave to another, but upon Mons. Paradol’s again soliciting me I consent, and he drives over with me an hour later to the cottage of ¢‘the two widows.”’ Francoise meets us at the door, courtesying and smiling. Jeannette, she tells us, has gone out for a little walk, but will return soon. Thinking that Francoise could best break the news to her companion, I tell her of what has befallen Eustache, and . she, though much overcome, promises to tell Jeannette as gently as she can. . But it is not from Francoise that Jeannette hears the story. As wedrive home by the cliff near the camp of the Romans we see Jeannette standing on the very edge, a rough-looking fisherman near her, and both are looking down-into the sea.

“She knows already, I fear,” I say to Mons. Paradol. ; Leaving our carriages, we go toward the two, and looking down, as they are doing, we are just in time to see three or four fshermen lifting the poor bruised body of Jeannette’s lover trom a hollow in the rocks, where a careless wave has tossed it. There are no tears in her eyes as she stands watching those below, but as they take up their dripping burden a sudden light comes into her beautiful, pale face, and she sprang forward as if she would leap into the Sea which has proved so cruel to her and those she has loved. Quick as her movement has been, the fisherman by her side "has been quicker, and hisstrong arm holds her back. :

Two days more, and Eustache’s funeral is held at the church in Palais, where he was to have been married. Every one in Palais knew the: handsome Eustache Frentin, and the church is filled with sorrowing friends. The two- ladies from Vannes are there closely veiled, Rollie and I, and beside Mons. Paradol and his sister; and just. before -us is Jeannette, weeping, and supported by Francoise. The aged priest’s voice trembles as he proceeds with the service, and the clear, sweet tones of the choir falter sometimes as they utter their responses. - ~ That evening Rollie 'tells me that he has paid the priest to say masses for poor Eustache for & month. ‘“ Not that I believe in that sort of thing,”’ he adds; ‘¢ but if it will do the poor fellow any good, Aunt Sue — And I have not the heart to remonstrate. : B g The next day but one we go ta Auray, taking Jeannette with us. She can no longer bear to live by the sea, she tells us; and I think of finding a home for her with some friends in America. Francoise goes to live at Mons. Paracol’s and assist his sister in her household cares, and so the ‘‘Home of the Two Widows" at Belle-isle-on-Mer is left empty and desolate. . .

. —Mistress: - ¢ Bridget, didn't you hear me call?”’ Bridget: ¢ Yis, mum; but ye towld me the other day niver to answer ye back—and I didn’t.”’

- Youths’ Department. S OATOHING THE -CAT. - . THE mice had met in council: They all looked hazgard and worn, : For the state of affairs was too terrible To be any longer borne. S Not a family out of mourning— There was crape on every hat; s They were desperate—something must be done, And done at onece, to the cat. :

An elderly member rose and said: L ** 1t might prove a possible thing e To set the trap which they set for ns— That one with the awfpl ?nng 2 The suggestion was appgu ed sl Loudly, by one and all; ‘ Txk:l somebody squeaked: ‘‘ That .?ra.p would be « About ninety-five times too small!” : Then a medicul mouse suggested— ooy A little under his breath— - : They should confiscate the very first mouse Thut died a natural death, ’ And he’'d undertake 1o poison the 2at, ; If they’d let him prepare that mouse; ** There’s not been a mnatural death,” they _shrieked, i ' , **Since the cat came into the house! The smallest mouse in the council , : Arose with a solemn air, -~ And, by way of increasing his stature, - - Rubbed up his whiskers and hair; He waited until there was silence All along the pantry shelf, s Arxd then he said, with dignity, ** I will catch the cat myself! ** When next I hear her coming, - Instead of runnine away I shall turn and face her boldly, g ; And pretend to be at play; i She will not see her danger, : : Poor creature! lsuppose; ; But as she stoops to catch e, Ishall catch Zer, by the nose!” ’ The mice began to look hopeful, o . Yes, even the old ones, when . A gray-haired sage said, slowly, - * And what will you do with her then?” The champion disconcarted, : Replied, with dignity, ** Well, I think if you’ll all excuse me, : ’T would be wiser not to tell! : ** We all have our inspirations—" This produced a general smirk—- * But-we are not all at liberty : = To explain just how they’ll work; ' I ask you then to trust me; . You need.have no farther fears— Consider our enemy done for!” : ' The council gave three cheers. ** I do believe she’s coming!”’ : Said a small mouse, nervously. . **Run, if you like,” said the champior, ; : " But I shall wait and see!” And sure enough she was coming— The mice alt ~campered away Except the noble champion, fi g . Who had made up his mind to stay. > The mice had faith, of course they had— They were all of them noble souls, But a sort of general feelgn% ; ; Kept them safely in their holes, Until some time in the evening; ; - Then the boldest ventured out, . T And saw, happily in the distance, ; The cat prance gayly about! : There was dreadful consternation, Till some oneat last said, ** Oh, He’s not had time to do it, Let us not prejudge him so!” ** 1 believe in him, of course I do,” : Said the nervous mouse, with a sigh, ** But the cat looks uncommonly happy, And I wish I did know why!"’ The cat, I regret to mention, . Still prances about that house, And no message, letter or telegram . Has come from the champion mouse. The mice are a little discouraged; . - The demand for crape goes on; They feel they’d be happier if they knew Where the champion mouse had gone. This story has a moral— It is very short, yousee; - So no one, of course, will skip it, For fear of offending me. - It is well to be courgfeous, : : And valiant, and all that, e Y ‘But—if you are mice—you’d better think twice Before yoa catch the cat. : ; —Margaret Vandegrift, in St. Nicholasd

~° 7 TWO LITTLE PRINCES. THE story of the two little Princes smothered in the tower of London, and buried beneath ‘a staircase there, is well known to everyschildish reader of history; but few have heard the even sadder tale of two other little Princes born about the same time, and living in a neighboring country. Poor little Henri and Francois de Nemours!-—one a sickly baby of seven, the other only eight years old. They were taken from a loving mother and a happy home to see their father’s head cut off by the cruel King of France—Louis XI. Side by side, dressed all in white, the poor children stood beneath the secaffold, hardly understanding the terrible scene. When all was over the little boys were hurried off to the great old prison of Paris, the Bastile, there to be punished in their turn. Those were cruel old days, -as you see, but how cruel no happy child of the nineteenth century can guess. Not only were these little lads shut up in prison, but, to add to - their sufferings, each was placed in a sort of terrible iron cage, barred all rcund, and made of such shape that they could neither sit nor lie down nor stand in it roperly. To be always uncomfortagle, that was the design of these wicked inventions, and always uncomfortable were poor little Henri and Francois. Their only bit of consolation consisted in the fact that the cages were hung so close together that the poor prisoners could see each other, speak to each other, even clasp hands through the bars. ¥ {

You would think that such a punishment was sufliciently severe for two little boys who had done no harm themselves;. but the monster who called himself ¢ Most Christian King’’ did not think so, and his new idea was to crder a surgeon to go once a week to the prison and pull o6ut,a tooth of each child. i . i Little Francois burst into tears of terror when he heard the dreadful sentence, and Henri turned very pale; but it was not from fear or pain for himself —he was a brave boy and. dreaded nothing; it was little Francois he was thinking of. - . ¢ Bir,”’ he enfreated ‘“my mother would die of Erief,-—'if you hurt my little brother. 'l'ake my tooth out if you will, but don’t hurt him.” -

- Fortunately, the doctor was a kind man, and he was touched by the heroism of the little prisoner. ¢ My boy,” lixe answered, gently, ¢« were I to grant yourrequest, my own life would be at.stake. 1 am strictly watched; I must show the Governor of ‘the Bastile the two teeth at the close; of every visit.” ' " “Then take two of mine,’ said ‘Henri, without an instant’s hesitation, «only leave Francois alone. He is ‘such a little boy, and is so aften ill, and I am always quite well.”? " The doctor was moved to tears by this appeal, and his first idea was to ~give up the whole matter, and to - tell the Governor that he could not execute: go cruel an order. But then he knew that some one else would be sent in his place, some harder-hearted creature, who would in no way considerthe poor children. And little Francois was so

pale and sickly that the fright and pain would surely kill him. So he thought for a moment. and then carriéd out Henri's ‘wishes, taking out two of his teeth and leavinglittle Francois unhurt. The brave boy never winced nor cried, though poor little Francois did both at the sight of his brother suffering for him. Week by week came the doctor, and week by week Henri cheerfully parted with two teeth, till all were gone! : :

He did not mind the pain much, and Francois was saved. But bad air, and want of exercise and a mother’s love, did for poor Henri what actual suffering could not do—they undermined his health and brought on a slow fever. Not much talking went on now between the prisoners. Henri was too weak to cheer his little neighbor as he used to do. But the last day the feeble spiriv flickered up, and he called to his baby brother, ¢ Dear, I am going to leave you. Ah! lam sorry not to see our mother before I die. = My heart tells me you will soon see her, and, when you do, mind yoh say that I died loving her better even than I did when I lived at hcme with her.” At these sad words little Francois burst into a flood of tears; but . the elder boy lay back, pale and exhausted, till a minute after he said, softly: *¢Give me your hand, and press mine very tightly.”” i _ Poor little man! a stronger hand than that of a feeble baby of seven should have led him gently.to the gates of death! But all this was a . piece with the cruelty .of Louis XI. No persuasion would have induced him to allow mother or'nurse to come near the wretched children.

A poor priest, indeed, was present, at first doubtless seeming only another jailor in the eyes of the forsaken babes; but he was a good man, and had stood beside many a death-bed !in that . firm old fortress, learning from his kind heart what to say to each sufferer. So to the sinking child he spoke strange yet pleasant words of ¢ seeing dear father again in Heaven,”’ and, when the poor orphan smiled at the happy thought, he told him another Father up in that same Heaven, even more kind and ‘loving, was waiting for His tired, tortured little one.

Even Francois could understand this; while Henri lay very still, soothed and comforted. All at once the little hero raised himself, and in a firm voice exclaimed, ‘“ Francois, you must take care of my dicky-bird.” o ; They were his last words, and with this innocent expression of solicitude for his one plaything, the spirit of the little Dnc de Nemours passed away, beyond the bars of the cage, beyond the firm Bastile.. The bird flew from the hand of the dead ' master to that of the living brother.- It had been a pet of both, feeding out of their hands on prison crumbs, and coming at the call of either. .

Henri was right in thinking that little Francois would be restored to’his family. The death of Louis Xl. a few years later accomplished this, though the poor little lad remained lame and sickly to the end of his days, owing to his suffering in captivity. « = =~ " At the ta%ing of the Bastile, in 1789, two -iron cages were discovered, their shape identifying them asg:those ‘consStructed for these unhappy children. They -were broken to pieces by the ’ populace with cries of horror. So ends ‘the pitiful tale of the little Princes in the Bastile.—S. W. Presbyterian. :

; old Charlie! . OLp CHARLIE was a doctor’s horse, and he was a good horse, as my story will show. The doctor used him ten years, and in all that time he never did a bad thing. i - He would stand without tying while the doctor made his calls, and never got impatient if he was kept waiting ever so long. When the doctor came out to him, after a very long call, Charlie would look round, prick up his ears, and whinny, which was his way of saying, ¢“I am glad you have come.”” But he would never start until the doctor got into the buggy, took up the reins and said «“ Go!”* -

i the harness broke, or the shafts dropped down, he would stop at once. and wait until all was right again. He would always keep the beaten track; night or day; and when he crossed a crazy bridge, or any bad place in the road, he would step as carefully as if treading on eggs. The doctor’s children could drive him ‘anywhere in safety. ; i - . Besides being good, Charlie was more knowing than most horses. As the boys say, ‘‘He knew what he was about.” When one went to bridle him, he would turn his head and open his mouth to receive the bit. When he was taken out before the carriage he would step carefully between thé shafts and never step on them. .

The doctor, in -going on his daily rounds, would . often lay the reins down, open his paper and read the news, while Charlie would take the same roads, turn the same corners and stop at the same houses that he did the day before, making the whole circuit of several miles, and turning four or five corners, without being guided in the least. i When the doctor did not wish to stop at some house, he would say, just as they approached it, * No, Charlie, g0.0n.” Charlie would pass right by, and the next day he would not offer to stop at that house without orders. Sometimes, when the doctor got into his buggy, he ‘would say, *‘Now, Charlie, we are- going to——"" (naming the place). After once makin the journey as announced, if he Sa.ig' the same thing two or three days afterward, and threw down the reins, Charlie would go directly to the place, turning all the corners, without offering to stop anywhere else. This was tried a number of times, -~ - - The doctor had & little dog named. Tray that used to ride with. him night and day. Sometimes Tray would stand with his fore-paws on thé dash-board, and hold the reins in his mouth, feeling as big as ‘a little boy who is just learning to drive. This made the boys lagh ‘and clap their hands and shout, < Hurrah for Tray!” = Someétimes Tray would take the halter between {his teeth and lead Charlie to'water. ' But alas! Charlie grew old and lame

at last. He could not do the work required of him; so he wsds sold to-a man who promised to use him well and put him to'light work. - There was mourning in' the housel when thé old -horse was taken away. The children cried. their mother cried, and the old doctor himself did not like to speak about him. All felt that such a good borse ought to have been kept as long as he lived.—Nursery. *

, ~ Postoffice Troubles. - UpwarD of fifty thousand letters yearly'are sent to the Dead Letter Office frovn; the Boston Postoffice alone, and want of proper diréction is. a large cause of'it. The expert, who has become so by long years of practice, is called upon to tax his powers to decipher ‘somme obscure direction often found on letters. We will mention a few of them: . '~ o e As written, o Should be, . Alk Embright.... ......old Cambridge, Mass. Tcheguepici... .........Chicopee, Mass. Pins Cherty.............P0int Shirley, Mass. Coachetwaight..........Cochituate, Mass. Sk Shell Mound..:.........Charlemont, Mass. Bast Stanta.....:.. ....East Taunton, Mass, Pitchuork......... ...: . ‘Fitchburg, Mass. = ° Woodstocking.... ......Woonsocket, R. I. Walk White............. Waquoit, Mass. New Night States,.......United States. . : Baint C00k..............5unc00k, N. H. . Cituate........ . ...... ~Scituate,-Mass, © QCalam.... v.... ... ..Salem, Mass, e s Cintillion.... ...........Bt, Helen’s in England. Torn' Duck..............Tn0rndike, Mass. - Sirc Curs’...ovev. ... o 0 .Syracuse, N. Y. ' Routh 1r51and..........Rh0de Island. ‘ / Tea 80dy...... ... ....Peabody, Mass. ' Old Bearfield.... .......old Dearfield, Mass. North Bull Rickey .....North Billerica, Mass. Nordmerka:... ...;....North America. Kngepo_nslj,e.. ¢eevo i Neponset. Laponsit. ... ...... JL..Neponset. : Marvil Hade............ Marblehead. . Mazatutas.... ..........Massachusetts, g Martha Win....... ... Methuen, Mass. - Mat A.Pan ............Mattapan, Mass. o Maine Jockey...........Manchaug, Mass, L00e11.... ..o iO. oo :Lowell, Mass, &« = Legmonster.............Leominster. . * ° Can'Oas..... ....... ... . Kansasa, {lmmy Capilane:.......Jamaca Plain, . . | Eapetchuich... ..... ..Ipswich. ‘ Edgin Hardchard.. ... ..Indian ‘Orchard. Saquette T0ne11........H005ac Tunnel. Wholeyolk.... .........Holyoke, Mass. Klashvaster .... ........Gloucester, Mass. Kafix_a.dlgott.;... .......:Connecticut. : Schicggago. .............Chicago, HI, : Cow H05et..............C0ha55et, Mass. : K0nkh0rd..,............C0nc0rd, Mass. Schariestone: ... ..:. ..Charlestown, Mass. Aryee Glanchisenn.....Ayer’sJunction, Mass, Ear Jucking............Ayer's Junction, Mass. Inecredible as it would appear, these are. actual dixrections that have been in the hand of the writers of this sketé¢h. My practice is to keep a notebook near . me, and anything unusual about a letter that attracts my attention 1 make an- entry of at the time, ready for future reference.. Of necessity, distributing mail is done_ with great rapidity. A visitor in the office said to me one day, observing the process, ‘lt would make me dizzy to do that.”” Indeed, I think it might affect him more seriously, for one day a fellow-clerk was working by my side when, all at once,, he staggered back from the case we were working at, struck’ with blindness. It was only temporary, however. After his eyes were rested he was all ri%ht again. After I have rendered all the service in the postoffice required of me for the day, I have retired at night with painful eyes, and in the morning, on awakening, the first sensation' was pain-in my eyes; but they would recover again from the strain upon them after a season of rest. . The distributor meets with a great variety 'of colors - in envelopes; some are very bad for the eyes. The most objectionable are blue, particularly dark blue; in the night they areyery hard to read. . . When letfers are not received when expected, the clerks are often blamed, -when the fault. is not theirs, but the fault of correspondents. One day when a mail-bag was béing closed a merchant came into the postoffice hastily with a letter and desired that it should go in. that mail, -and it was sent as he requested. Some time afterward he called again and wanted to know what could have become ' of that letter; he. blamed no one in the office, for he saw :the bag locked before he leftx Time passed on without hearing anything about it, until ‘one day the merchant was looking over some papers and letters in his desk, .when he found his long-lost letter, with the $lOO inclosed in it, which he had supposed was lost. In his haste he had taken up the wrong letter and mailedit. .~ . A letter containing money was mailed in the State of Maine for a town in -Massachusetts. As it was not received, ‘inquiry was made, and it was found in ‘a/postoffice of the same name in Maine. Had the writer been more particular, disappointment and - anxiety would ‘have been avoided. A letter directed to corner Nain and Mill streets, Boston, was sent to a Westboro man, where it belOn%{e,d‘. - Very many such cases ‘occur. = Writers should be more care- , ful and parti}cular;a,-,-Baston Herald.

« —The Prin(:'i_})al of Vassar College stepped suddenly into one of the recitation rooms and said: ¢¢That person 'who is chewing gum will' please step forward and put it on the desk.”” The whole school stepped forward with one accord toward the desk, while the teacher slipped her quid beneath her tongue, and said: ¢ Leally,.gurls, 'm surprised!”—oil City Perrz'cl%.

—The habit of. blushing is a very charming one, under some eircumstances; butif people would blush oftener on account of the follies Shey commit, and not quite. so frequently when " they are flattered, the habib would be of more practical value to the human race, and have a tendency to lessen evil and increase good.—7. B. Chrystal. - . Ll y —This office feels. to rejoice . that while it hasn't a man who set type alongside of Artemus Ward, Mark Twain or Ben Franklin, it still revels in the luxury of compesitors who can always improve on the matter of the, copy they set up.— Steubenville Herald.

It is said that the law passed by the Legislature of Georgia’ ofierin% five thousand dollars for the head o the late William Lloyd Garrison is still ‘'on the statute books of that State, never: having been repealed. - . ' .. . - —A gentleman, ‘bein% asked whether he was seriously injured when a steamboiler exploded, is said to have replied ‘that he was so used to being blown up ‘\b%;,_h‘is; ‘wife that mere steam had no Le ectonhim, e