Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 25, Ligonier, Noble County, 9 October 1879 — Page 3

: > o . @ ! The Ligonier Banmer, ‘ J. B; ST?LL, Editor and Pr:)prlegor;‘ LIGONIER. : : : INDIANA.

I KEEP THE OLD WATCH GOING. I HAVE got a brand-new golden watch, ‘ With a beautiful pearl set in it; i Frou}gthe spring’s first blow till the fall of the now i : It keeps the time to a minute. : I have it set down in my will to my boy, And I bope when I'm gone he’ll wear it; : "T'was a present to me from over the sea, ~_And I love the hand that bare it; But my father gave me one long ago, . 2 When I was a lad yet growing; How can I part with a thing near my heart? So I keep the old, watch going. et You will find but right little gold in that, And no pearl its face adorning; But I thought it grand when I took it in hand On my thirteenth birthday morning. And my mother fastened a chain to its ring, And my gister added a locket; And I never felt since 8o much like a Prince As when first it went into my pocket. « - M{;Vparents are dead, and my sister sank « here the Indian waves are tlowing; But tllxe light of the past shall shine on to the S N So I keep the old watch going. : It is strange what oddities sometimes wake Good thoughts that havelong lain sleeping; For th(izlgreat blows fall, and scarce move usat Sl : ; But the littie things set us weeping.” . ’m’afraid that my life has not been what it should, 5 And habit’s a terrible fetter; - - : But Ty IPulse beats quick when 1 list to that ick, . o And I earnestly wish to.be better. e O I think that I see new hopes for me ' And a brighter prospect glowing: : Thoughlrlny heart be chill, 'twould be colder sti . - : If my boyhood’s watch stopped going. - ° : —Harper's Weekly.

-~ "A LITTLE FOOL. . — : “I AM astonished, Eloise! after all my instructions as to what society and respectability demand of you. If you must marry‘and'make a fool of yourself, why not marry Colonel Powell?” ““Because I.do not like Colonel Powell, and because I—like some else, Aunt Ethel.”? :. : - : e ‘I never heard of such a thing. Do you know what you are saying, miss? Such talk, I can tell you, is highly improper; and as for not liking Colonel Powell, that is nonsense. Colonel Powell has everything necessary to win any woman’s approbation—very old family, very fine manners, elegant residence, servants, carriage,” money and a member of Congress besides. Don’t you know that you_ would spend the winters in Washington ?”’ , ‘I declare it does not tempt me a bit.”’ : : ' ““And I don’t believe that he is a day more than fifty.” L ¢ ‘‘He is seventy-five if he is an hour, and he hobbles and coughs, and is altogether dreadful. I never, never, never will marry him.” ~ ““‘May I ask who, then, is to have the honor of becoming my nephew?”’ and Miss Ethel sat stiffly down and began. to carefully re-arrange the pink satin bows on her white morning dress. Eloise sat dewn opposite to her, and fingered nervously the rose-buds and ivy leaves that trimmed her garden hat. The two women were strangely alike, only one face was forty years old, white and proud; and the other was only twenty, flushing and paling, and answering every feeling of the heart. - oS i

For some moments Eloise did not speak, and Miss Ethel Bruce did not urge her. She sat patiently looking in her niece’s- face, until that young lady, finding courage in her desperation, said, with a bland ‘defiance, ‘“The gentleman who is to have that honor, dear Aunt, is Mr. Henry Torrens.” ¢ Impossible! Youwould not do such a foolish thing?” . . . *“Oh, yes, I would.” ‘ Do you know who he is?”’ . ‘“ He is—Harry.”, . ' ‘‘Ridiculous! Do you know who his tather is?”’ S “ ““No, I don’t want to know him particularly. Do you know him, Aunt Ethel?” - : : : “No. I dare say it would be very improper for me to know such a persen. ‘When we first met.him last summer in the North, I don't remember ;that he ever named his family.” : “Nor I 1.” e ¢‘That looks very bad, Eloise. If a man has respectable relations, of course he talks about them.” - ; ‘I don’t see that it make any great difference to me. I do not - intend to. marry Harry’s relations. Ido not care' much about them, anyway. Once he told me that his mother was dead, and I said mine was, too; and of. course we felt sorry for each other, and all that. But I am afraid lam a little jealous about Harry: I would just as lief be the only person in the world who had any right to love him as not.” = ““Youmake me feel hopeless about you. Pray what do you intend to live upon?”’ : B ‘““Harry has two thousand dollars a year.® | s ““Two thousand dollars a year! What a magnificent income!”’ ! ““Don’t make fun of us, aunt: I can not allow that; indeed, I can not. We love each other, and 'shall be very happy.”’ . “Doubtless. May I ask where Mr. Torrens is employed?” ““In West & Green’s law office.”” - ““Ithought he lived in New York. ‘What brought him here?’ = ““How should I know?'’ said Eloise, blushing, and involuntarily dropping her voice. e S i

Her aunt watched her curiously, and Bhook her head for answer. ¢ Where have you seen him—for I hope you have not dared to bring him within the pre«cinets of Bruce Pfitce.’é ! ‘‘ He has never touched a paling of it. I met him at Aunt Kezia's;and I am 'sure she would have let Cousin Lizzie marry him very willingly., She thinks ‘a great deal of Harry.” ./ ‘¢ Lizzie Bruce is different. She has five little sisters, and my brother Jake -always spends twenty out of an income of nineteen. You have expectations—or at least had. I alwagfs intended, if you remained unmarried, to. leave you ‘the Bruce Place.”’ £ - ““Dear aunt, thank you for the intention; but I would rather have Harry. I have a little bit of money of 'my own, have I not?”’ ¢ , ““ About four thousand dollars; just <noughto buy your wedding things,

and marry you decently. For though wou are going to make such a fool of yourself, I shall not show the white feather about it. I must pretend to be happy when I am wretched, andreceive congratulations that will nearly choke me; but such trials are part and parcel of a woman’s lot:, I dare say I shall get creditably through them." Miss Ethel rose with a proud air, but a pitifully sad face, and attempted to leave the room, but Eloise, with gentle force and many tender kisses, mage her sit down again. . - ‘‘Auntie,”’ she said, coaxingly, ‘you have asked me a good many questions, and I have answered them truly; now I am going to ask you some, and I know you will be fair with me about them. First, were you ever in love?”

Half smiling and half sighing, Miss Ethel sat thin%:ing over the bold ques‘tion. At length she answered, slowly, ‘and with a great deal of pathos in her voice, ‘‘ Yes, Eloise ; I once loved as I do not think you have the power to love. It is twenty-two years ago.” . * Will you tell me about it?”’, . - “I cannot. Yes—l will try; perhaps it may show you what a waste of life it is. 'Wait here a few moments.”’ | “She then left the room, but soon returned with a little tortoise-shell box in her hand. It opened with a spring, and showed a few yellow letters, a bunch of withered violets, and the half of a plain gold ring. She lifted the latter, and said : - : , ~ “This is part of his dead mother's wedding ring ; we broke it in two, and swore solemnly over it to be faithful to the promises we had made each other. Then he sailed away from me, and I never heard from him again. For two years I suffered all the agonies of hope deferred and slighted Tove, and at length I had a fever that left me the colorless little ghost I have been ever since.”’ - ] 4 |

¢ Perhaps he was dead.” N ‘““Then he was a miserable creature, and I should have put him out of my heart and memory.” i ““Yes, I think you would, Eloise. I think, too, that it is likely you would have let some other man make a fool of you a‘second time. I have a different nature. I did not cease to suffer for ‘James Early for five years, but, having ‘conquered that weakness, I never pef2 mitted myself to care for any ' other man.’’ _ ‘“ But you were rich and handsome. Did no one else care for you?”’ : ~ Miss Ethel smiled queerly, and after a slight hesitation said, ¢ Yes.”’ < Who was it, auntie?’’ ¢ Colonel Powell.” ¢ Oh, aunt! So you wanted me to do a thing you would not do yourself.” . “Yes. ,?lear, You wanted to” marry; I'did not. When I was twenty years of age, if I had wanted to marry at all, I should have married for wealth and position. Colonel Powell can give his vife these advantages.” L ¢ Are you still in love with this Mr. Early’s memory?"” ““No, Tamnot. If I should meet him to-day, I do not think I should care to speak to him.” - . “Is-he alive?”’ ' I suppose so. I heard of his marriage ten years ago.” “ Poor auntie!”” - “Don’t pity me, child. I am to be congratulated. If it had not been for my dear father’s opposition, I should have married for love, given my fortune and my life into the keeping of a selfish, fickle man—in fact, made just such a little fool of myself as you are about to make.”’ L

¢ Aunt, do you really think that Harry would forget me in a few weeks or months?”’ ; : ¢ Of course he would.” ‘ : . “J will try him.” * You will act very wisely to do so. Eloise, I am glad I have told yeu my sad ‘little story; it may make you at least ¢look before: you leap.”” Where does Harry generally leave you?” _“On the little bridge outside the Place.” : *Do not say ‘ Farewell’ there. Lovers who part over running water never nmeet again. Give him every lawful chance. You may bring him into the park to-night.”” So a few hours afterward there was a bitter parting under the oaks in Bruce Park. Eloise was.almost shocked when it was over. In her heart she had only intended to frighten Harry, but her lover had taken the proposal too seriously, and things had been said that she could not unsay. At first, indeed, Harry had laughed at Miss Ethel’s doubts of him, anf his laughter had provoked Eloise. She did not like the thing treated as a joke. ‘lt was a very serious matter, and she did not -see how Harry could laugh at the idea of not seeing her for eleven months.”’ For eleven months was the time she had fixed upon as the limit of her lover's probation. In eleven months she would be of age, and could claim her small fortune. If Harry were true to her, she would then be willing to begin life with him on four thousand dollars. Beside, she had a shrewd idea that if she humored her aunt thus far, Miss ‘Ethel would not withdraw her favor.

Harry was indignant at all such prudential considerations. He spoke very disrespectfully of Bruce Park, and declared he would not say ‘‘ Thank you” for every acre of it, and the old wooden mansion thrown in, and that eleven months was an eternity; they might just as well say good-by forever. Then Eloise argued that ¢ it was very well for him to talk of living on two thousand dollars a year and each other's love. Men could get society, and have people speak decently to them, even if they could only afford one new suit in twelve months; but a woman’s friends depended on the condition of her wardrobe, and she wondered if even Harry’s love could stand a shabby old-fashioned dress and one-button kid gloves. _ : Harrfr ‘“was sure she would make M(liy dress look: elegant;”” and Eloise said, ang’rilg:, “He was very absurd,” and thought so too. So the end of all was that Harry bade her ‘Farewell” till the sth of the following June, and that with many tears and I.protsestatioms they finally began their self-imposed trial of each other’s fidelity. The next morning’s paper announced the sudden ¢ departure of Mr. Henry Torrens for New York on business of

importance likely to detain him some -months,”” and Eloise was angry enough at the information. She had hoped Harry would try again to convince her of ¢the folly of parting,” and she was determined at this interview to be convinced. : For some weeks Miss Ethel did not have a very happy time. Eloise wandered in the park, or about the big silent house, and was not at all cheerful company. At first Harry’s letters were so long and frequent that a great deal of her time was satisfactorily employed in answering them. But by degrees they grew both shorter 'and less frequent, and toward the beginning of winter they stopped altogether. ‘'The two women looked sadly in each other’s face at the empty post-box every morning, and Miss Ethel had her will made during these days, and left hér niece all she had, as some compensation. But yet often when she saw the sad face that had once been so bright and pretty, she half reproached herself, and wondered whether, where ignorance is bliss, if it be not folly to be wise.: :

[ One day toward spring—a bright, warm -day for the season—Eloise, who had now long ceased even hopiné; for a letter, was walking slowly up and down the great hall dividing the large draw-ing-room and the late Mr. Bruce's library from the rest of the house. These rooms were very seldom opened, and still more seldom used. Eloise only remembered two or three grand occasions on which they had been used for great entertainments, the last being that which introduced her*into society two years previously. | ‘ A sudden fancy seized her; she would throw back the closed blinds, and let the spring sunshine into the dark rooms. Beside, there were all kinds of curious ornaments there, and a great many books; to examine them wm%d pleasantly pass a few hours. Miss Ethel readily agreed. She was glad to see her niece interest herself in anything that could beguile thought from the one sad, mortifying®subject of her desertion. Toward noon she went to seek Eloise. Her first glance showed her the girl sitting thoughtfully upon the hearth rug: with her lap ifull of letters, and queer tarnished Hindoo jewelry. She sprang up to meet her aunt, and with a strangely solemn excitement cried out: |

¢ Oh, auntie, they are yours, all yours!”” I was looking at that queer cabinet, and my dress turned it over, and a piece fell out of the bottom, and these things' were scattered about.” Then she ran out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Poor Miss Ethel needed her privacy. Here was her lover’s vindication; here were all the sweet words for which she had nearly died. He had suffered all she had suffered; he had poured out his agony and his despair in letters which had never until now reached her. The poor lady took them to her room, and never appeared again that day. But she had no hard words for the hand that had wronged her. ¢ Dear father; he meant it for a kindness’’ was all that she said.

Still she grew very restless, and continually declared that she was sure something was going to happen. But coming events often cast long shadows before, and it was full two months afterward ere Miss Ethel’s presentiment came true. Then she got a letter -one day which threw her into a wild, feverish excitement. < Eloise,”” she cried, almost sobbing with joy, ¢‘he is come; heis at the village; he will be here in an hour. How am Ito bear.it b Women seek each other’s sympathy in hours like this, and Eloise—perhaps with just a little pang for her own sorrow—gladly gave it. But when she joined the long-parted lovers at dusk, and saw her aunt lingering with tender cares by the handsome dark stranger at the fireside, she knew; that never again would Aunt Ethel want sympathy; it was easy to see her lover was still her lover, and that they thoroughly understood the past. Perhaps the sight of their happiness was a little irritating sometimes to Eloise. She could not help blaming Her aunt “in some measure for the 'loss of Harry, and she wondered if she ever remembered now any of her old opinions about the folly of marrying for love. Many women would have reminded her of them, but Eloise was not ill-natured; and when she saw the old lovers wandering about the gardens so happily together, she only hoped that her own blighted youth might have some such recompense given it; for such a joy it would almost be worth waiting a little while, but not twenty-two years; that was too strong a test of fidelity. + It was not asked of her. On the morning of the sth of June, when the dew was yeton the grass, there was a messenger to see her. -He had with him an exquisite basket of white roses, and in their midst was a letter which made Eloise Bruce the happiest girl in America. And Aunt Ethel was justas delighted: ¢¢ He must come here at once,’! she said; ¢they would wait breakfast for him—and he must never go away again.” ~ Then the ladies discoveneg that Harry and James* Early were already friends. They had met at a hotel in New York, and both having their hearts in the same little Southern town, they had speedily become confidential. And Harry was not long in getting his pardon, though his excuse might well haye béen considered by a less loving mistress as an aggravation of his offense. “You see, darling,” he explained between his kisses, “Eou wanted to test my heart, and so I thought it only fair to let you test Iyour own also. Do you think you would remember me, if you never saw or heard from me for twentytwo years, as Aunt Ethel did that lover of her’'s?’ ' )

“Harry! I should remember you forever. I never, never could have married any one else, if you had stayed away altogether. But indeed it was cruel to try me so bitterly.” : “And how about your sending me away?’ o “I won't ever do it again, Harry; and I never really wanted you to go. You ought to have known that.” A few nights afterward, as they all sat toiether on the moon-lit veranda, Aunt Ethel said, very tenderly, ¢ Children, James and I will be married next Thursday, and we shall sail for Calcutta immediately. Could not the two marriages be made at once? Then, Harry,

| Eloise could live on at the old place, and keep it from going to destruction. l It is Eloise’s now; I made it over to her to-day, and Mr. Green says you are going into partnership with their firm, so I hope you will have enough to keep love from flying out of your windows.”” . : : Little more was said at the time, for Aunt Ethel persistently turned the subject, but when she came into Eloise’s room to bid the new bride elect “‘goodnight,”” the happy girl whispered: “‘Oh, aunt, how generous you have beer to us! Surely %&r. Early must be very rich, to let you give us such a magnificent wedding present.” ' : ‘“No, geal‘, he is not. In fact, he is ‘yet what he calls a struggling man. He has great ventures on hand; he may become rich, or he may lose nearly ail he has made. = It is something about indigo, dear, I know not what, and I don’t care. lam goiig now wherever he goes, and lam a very, very happy woman.’’ ' Then Eloise whispered, slyly, ‘“Auntie, do you remember saying a year ago that a girl was a little fool who married for lovel! . : - ‘“I remember, dear. lam wiser now, and say if the girl is a little fool who marries for love, she who marries without it is the most foolish and wretched of women. On the whole, Eloise, lam rather proud of our good sense—eh, my darling ?” - ' - Others, however, seemed to think differently, for Lizzie Bruce, meeting her friend Selina James one morning, said, ¢ Selina, what do you think? Harry Torrens has come back, and Cousin Eloise ‘has actually forgiven him everything, and is going to marry him! I never would have done it. %Voul‘d you?” v __“Certainly I would not; but then Eloise Bruce was always—on that subject—a little fool.”’ —Harper's Weekly.

The Autumnal Equinox. : THE autumnal equinox took place yesterday, the 23d of September, and the ~earth is in that delightful condition of lequilibrium indicated by the crossing of the celestial equator and ecliptic. The celestial pole and the terrestrial one point in the same direction, and the sun sends its benignant rays with undeviating partiality over that portion of the terrestrial sphere extending from pole to pole. Equal day and night mark this delightful period of the earth’s revolution, while to-day the sun rises to the south pole after its six months day. Autumn commences astronomically the day when the sun enters the sign Libra, or the Scales, and con-, tinues until the winter solstice. But it is only for a point of time that the golden scales hang evenly balanced, and the great circles are intertwined. Today a change comes. The southern scale is more heavily freichted with sunlight, the sun goes into southern declination, and the night exceeds the day in length. ‘ : A curious. phenomenon is connected with the crossing of the equator and ecliptic. The points of intersection change every year, so that each succeeding equinox happens a little earlier than. it would otherwise do. This is called the Precession of the Equinoxes, because the equinox seems to meet the sun earlier. The annual recession is very small—ofily fifty seconds.of a degree, equal fo about twenty minutes in time; but small as it appears it has amounted to thirty degrees since it was first observed more than two thousand years ago. Wherever the sun crosses the equinoctial in the autumn there is the autumnal equinox, and, as this point is constantly retrograding, the longitude of the stars is constantly increasing. This anomalous movement is easily accounted for. The sun, moon and planets exercise a strong attraction on the bulfing mass at the earth’s equator. In consequence of this, the pole of the earth is constantly changing its position and revolving around the pole of the ecliptic in a small circle, which it takes about twenty-five thousand years to complete. During the passagé’) of this period the equinoctial points will retrograde around the whole circle. The equilibrium will then be restored, and a new revolution of a similar kind commenced. THe change during an ordinary life is so small as hardly to be appreciated, though the studg of this theme with the phenomena depending upon it is of . exceeding interest.— Providence (R. 1.) Journal.

: . The Very Best. YESTERDAY a lady stepped into a bird store on Kearney street to purchase a parrot for a household pet. Having examined the collections she turned to the proprietor, and without otherwise designating her selection simply said: I will take Honesty.” ‘¢ Beg your pardon, ma’am,” said the dealer, ¢ which one is it you said you will take?” : | ‘¢ I will take Honesty. Please have him sent round to No. 582 Geary street.” ‘“ Honesty?” repeated the puzzled dealer. : ¢ And which is Honesty?”’ ‘“ Why, that one, of course,” said the self-possessed customer, pointing to by far the fairest bird of the flock. ¢ All right, ma’am,”” said the ornitholoiical trader, and as he was making the necessary change he timidly ventured to ask: ‘ “ And may I enquire, ma'am, why you called it Honesty?” ¢ Certainly,” answered the customer, with a heavenly smile; ¢ that parrot is Honesty because Honesty is the best Poll Isee.” .- . | The dealer was struck with a congestive chill, and gave the lady a half 7191lar short of her change.—BSan Francisco Chronicle. : :

—Yesterday a dog noticed a little puppy on Migdle street which had evidently lost its mother. The little creature was whinin%\ and crying. The dog tried to induce the puppy to follow it without avail. Fina]ily, the dog took the puppy by the ear, and'led it off to the alley by the Eastern Express Comany’s office on Plum street; there it fiaft it a moment, and went off and brou%ht back some food with which it fed lt; etlittle t;;3ll'ea.t:ure. -The last seeg of the two, the puppy was going o with its newly—a({z)pted mothgr. -—%’ortland (Me.) Press.

’ ; ; Youths’ Department.. THE ROBIN AND THE TROUT. ' " (A FABLE.) & A ROBIN flew down to a river to drink, But stop;zfit_l, f‘are she sipped it,a moment to ink: > . * If drinking a little ean do so much good, How fine I should feel if I lived in the iood!” So she hopped in the stream to accomplish ; her wish, : ! But sank tothe bottom, and died among fish. She scarcelty had chirruped hér odd fancy . out, s L When;JlO(t)king before her, she spied a fine rou Who was lying quite. still, and heard the : queer wish— i So odd for a robin, but right for a fish. Just then a fat insect had caught the trout’s eye. L 3 And up to the surface he flew for the fly. ‘“Delicious !” hecried. “If such things fill the i air. £ T were bett’er, by far, to leave here, and live <. . therel” ; So hoping to feast upon many flies more, He leaped from the water, and died on the i shore. o . MORAL. Be always contented; but, if you aim higher, Think twice, lest you leap from the pan to | : the fire. : ; ‘Remember, a little will often be good, When m(f)re,d if we take it, would poison our ood. : And then, albove all things, let_‘ nothing compel us To wish we :ve’re somebody else, or be jealous! : —Nathaniel Niles, in St. Nicholas.

BECAUSE SHE LOVED HIM. ‘I HATE boys! and I wish with all my heart old Bluebeard would carry them away and hang them up by their ‘thumbs, as he did his wives, that'T do!” said Susie Lewis, changing her seat for the fourth time in' five minutes, and settlinfi herself to read a%ain, : ‘“Who cares what you hate, old Crosspatch? Beside, Bluebeard’s dead; and I don’t believe he ever did live,” answered Susie’s brother, rolling, cushions and all, off. the sofa on to the floor as he spoke. . ‘¢ My name is not Cross-patch, I thank you; my name is Susanna May Lewis; and Bluebeard did live, whether you believe it or not. I suppose you believe Daniel lived?’ inquired Susie, indignantly, snatching her, dress outof her brother’s reach. | *“Who was Daniel?”’ : ¢ Oh! That shows how much attention you paid to your last Sunday’s lesson, Frederick Lewis. Daniel was a Judge in Jerusalem—at least I think SO-"’ ; £ 5 . ““Well, I think you don’t know much more about him than I do,” said Freddy, trying to get his heels to rest on the! table ‘without altering his recumbent position. ' e “Yes, I do. He wasput into the den of lions; and that is just where I wish you and all other boys : were, right now,”” she added, as Freddy made another dive at her dress. - “Yes, but you see, Miss Susanna, Daniel wasn’t put into the lion’s den for being bad; he was put in because he was so very good—and Freddy laid a distinggishing emphasis on the word fSvery. 1 o O), you do remember some of your lesson. Well, you won't ever be put anywhere for being very good,” and Susie again pushe& ‘her chair farther away from the teasing boy. : “How do you know so much, Miss Smartie? I might turn out a saint yet.”’ : i

It is time you began then, Fred; and if you don’t stop teasing me I'll give you something to help you.” ““What will you give me, PopsyWopsy?” said Freddy, pretending that he was going to tip her chair over. ¢¢ Let my chair alone, Freddy Lewis ; do you hear? Mamma! Mamma!: do speak to Freddy!” called Susie, in desperation, as Freddy made arother dive at her dress. Gl o : ¢« O, mamma is down in the kitchen, making a nice little mince-pie for me ; she couldn’t come now, Miss Susie ; so tell me how you are going to help me become a saint,”” sail Freddy, sitting up, and ajming a sofa-cushion at Susie’s book. ; p ‘“First by a real good whipping that you could not forget for a month,”’ answered Susie, dod%ging the pillow. ‘“Are you to give it to me, Pussy Cat? because if you are I am awfully afraid,” said Freddy, holding up another cushion between his sister and himself.

; ““Freddy, if you won’t stop tor-| menting me I will throw this book at your head.” \ ¢“0, do, by all means! for if you do, I know if you aim at my head you’ll be sure to hit the door. Girls can’t throw strailght!” ' “For a good reason, sir—they don’t wish to ; it is not lady-like.”” Just here Tom Gregor, Freddy’s chief friend, opened the door. ‘“Hello!”” he cried, ‘“Hello; Fred! Trotter says the ice on the pond will bear; the fellows are in for lots of fun. Hurry up! I'll wait at the gate -for yvou.” J o : ~Freddy followed him with a shout and a bound, and the next instant Susie heard him calling upon his mother and both servants in a breath: ‘““ Where’s the straps of my skates, mother? Jane, where’s my straps? Ellen, I left them on the hall table; nobody leaves anything alone; Mother! Mother! Mother!” -, Susie listened for an instant, then she heard her mother say: ‘‘l am very sorry, dear, but I cannot possibly leave the cake now to help you; ask Susie, she’ll find them.”’ i f

«“No, Susie won't,”” said the little girl to herself; ‘‘he ought to put his things away as I do; then he would know where to find them. Besides, he plagued me so hatefully all the afternoon; I'm just glad he’s lost his straps; Aunt Sophy would say it was a providential punishment, and I think so, too.” Here Freddy opened the door, and, looking pleadinglyat Susie, said: I say. Sissy, won’t you please help me find my straps? Somebody’s hid them, and there’s Tom ecalling me. Come, Susie, there's a good girl; I'm real sorry I teased you. Certainlam.” Susie smiled—a bright, sunny smile. “All right, you dear little torment, I'll help you, then; but'l am sure I don’t know where to look for anythi€§ of i'ours, 80 you can take my straps. Wait, 'll get them for you, I know where my tsh'-in%}so are, always,”’ - “Good girl! H then! Hello, Tom!’ he shouted, tgroWing usp the hall window, ‘¢ wait one minute, Susie’s getting me her straps. Oh, here they

are! Thanks! you're a dear little sistel” —how and then,” said Freddy, spring~ ing out of the window, and making the gate in wonderful time. -

‘“ There, now,” said ‘Susie, ¢ he's gone without his comforter, and he’ll get a sore throat again; I don’t believe . ‘boys have more than one thought at a time, ever; I believe it would be ri ht to put my book away, and take.»him%lis, comforter.” She thought a moment, then resolutely puty the ‘tempting volume in its place, hunted . the lost straps (which she found in the pocket -of Freddy’s school-jacket), took the warm, thick comforter off its peg, and wrapping |, herself up - was soon in pursuit of her thoughtless brother. - - 5 - He was not very easy to catch, and when caught could hardly stand still while Susie’s deft little fingers fastened the warm, woolen 'szarf around his neck; but he was not insensible to the loving care, and in his blunt, boyish way, said, ¢ Susie, I'm ever so much obliged, you know; and I wonder what made you think about my throat, after the way I've been teasing you.” ’ ‘“O, boys can’t help teasing, Freddy, any more than bees can help fiummino'; beside,’” she said, looking - admiringfy into the merry, rosy. face, ¢“besides, Freddy, sister Susie loves you.” - L won’t say that Freddy never teased - Susie any more; but I do know that that little. woolen .comforter was a tie between brother and sister, fondér and stronger than many a one_that is forged of gold.— Christian at Work. - ;

. Selling the Baby, BaBY is fast asleep in his cradle. Such a wee, tiny baby, only four weeks old, with a red face, pug nose, and a ‘mouth that looks larger than all the rest -of his head, when he cries. 1 A baby who has not woke up yet, for his eyes are shut most of the time, like a little kitten’s. .= - Tommy and Bobby did not think him very nice, and said, ‘‘ See Word ought have sent a girl baby. Dot nuff boys in ‘this house.” : e - Well, just the ..day before, the boys ‘were down town with Anna, and - told the man at the store about their baby. . - .‘“Bring him down, and Pll buy him,”’ said the man; would give a bushel of candy for a baby.” e A whole bushel of eandy! ' Only think of it! Could eat candy instead of potatoes -for dinner, and mamma should have lots and lots, so she wouldn’t ever think about her baby again. =~ = Mamma is in-“the kitchen showing Anna how to -can berries, and never dreams that her little boys are lifting her baby, all rolled in blankets, out of his cradle into the deep box of their little cart. ; : - ‘“ You wift his wheels, Bobby, and I'll take his hears.” o e ~ Good thing the blankets are so thick! - Bumpety, bumpety, bump! bumpety, bumpety, bump! Folks wonder what those two wee boys have all done up in their cart; but nobody thinks it their business to ask. Baby opens his eyes and wonders why they rock the cradle so hard, but the harder they rock the better he likes it, so he shuts his eyes again. Yool hes o b f : Bumpety, bumpety, bump! the ponies all see the boys, and are careful not to step upon them. Mamma’s little boys, who werenever down town alone before! . “Want to sell a baby?”? =~ ° - SRRI ' i ¢ ¢ Well, where is your baby?’ ; ‘‘ln ee cart; want butehels of tanny. You said so to-morzow arternoon.”

““Ya, ya, ya-a-a-a-a!”’ the cradle has stopped rocking, and baby is awake. ¢“ Gracious me!”’ cries the storeman, raising the blanket and seeing two bright eyes wide open; ¢if these boys haven’t got a live baby here!” o “Ya, ya, ya-a-a-a-a!” There is a crowd in the store now, -and every one is talking, and no one knows who the ‘boys are, mor whose the baby is. ““Name Bobby and Tommy,” says Tommy; ‘“wive in house at home. Papa’s name -Zhorge.” ‘ Dr. L——, whose office is across the street, sees the crowd and crosses over. ¢ What'’s the trouble?’ . ““ Why, here is a lost baby, and nobody knows whose; perhaps he belongs to one of your patients.” - Dr. L— fixes his spectacles, takes the baby, and looks very wise, but does not know whose it is' until he hears: ¢ Papa, papa,’’ and two little boys catch the doctor’s coat-tails. - ¢ Why, bless me, how did you get down here, boys?”’ . - o Folks are laughing now, and say, “Didn’t know his' own baby! Good joke on the doctor!’ - ° ais Bumpety, bumpety, bump! * Mamma looks out of the window and wonders at the crowd coming up the street. K vexed-looking man drawing a cart, two little boys and a baby ecrying, and a flock of boys following and shouting in the rear. salne Mamma wonders, too, what makes baby sleep so long this morning; but mamma soon finds out, for what mamma wouldn’t know her own baby, if she fo%n% it a ichousand milei fr%xln liqmfis? aby is large now, a lau ', joll little fstre]low, %vho n the boy%- vl;%ufdn}t’; sell for his W,eig]t “in candy.—Moy Huoimes, in Youth's Companion. e

—~Carl Olaf Westland, a Swedish engineer, ‘who has been recently employed by a stove firm in Albany, while visiting the Centennial Exhibition in 1876 discovered in the building devoted to ordnance a breach-loa ix’llf cannon which he said he recognized as one of his own inventions. He took steps to establish proofs of his claim, and now says that his case is satisfactorily made out and , that he has just addressed a lettér to Sir Edward Thornton, the British Minister at Washington, requesting -him to inform the English Government that he demands £25,000 indemnity for the ‘infringement upon his invention.. . @ = - —*And oh, Edward,”” said the girl he was going to leave behind him, *“at every stoip;nf-})lace, be sure you write, then go ahead.”’— Yonkers Gazelte. . —The sun is 820,000 times larger than the earth, and yet it persists in striking so small a thing as'a man. - ¢ i R ) R ded 5 —Now is the time to put up your stove-pipe and get. I%c;ur fall soot.—Boston Commercial Bullettn. . =