Ligonier Banner., Volume 14, Number 32, Ligonier, Noble County, 27 November 1879 — Page 3

- The Ligonier Banner, IGONIER, o TNORANA.

GOING HOME. Klss me when mg spirit flies— Let the beauty of youseyes Beam along the waves of death While I draw my parting breath, And am borne to yonder shore Where the billows beat no more, - And the notes of endless spring Through the groves immortal ring. - I amégoing home to—ni%'ht, e Out of blindnessinto sight, - : Out of weakness, war and pain Into power, peace and dgain; : _ Out of winter, gale and gloom Into summer breath and bloom; From the wand'rings of the past I am going home at last. Kiss my lips and let me go— ) Nearer swells the solemn flow Of the wond’rous stream that rolls By the border-land of souls—--1 can catch sweet strains of songs Floating down from distant throngs, ‘And can feel the touch of hands Reaching out from angel bands, Anger’s frown and envy’s thrust, Friendship chilled by cold distrust, - Sieepless nipfht and weary morn, ! Toil in fruitless land forlorn, Aching head and breaking heart, . =~ - Love destroyed by slander’s dart, ' Drifting ship and darkened sea, QOver there will righted be. Sing in numbers low and sweet, ey Let the songs of two worlds meet— We shall not be sundered long— | Like the fragment of asong, by Like the branches of arill . . Parted by the rock or hill, : : ‘We shall blend in tune and time, Loving on in perfect rhyme. ‘When the noon-tide of your days Yields to twilight’s silver haze, Ere the world rrécedes in space, . Heavenward lift yqur tender face, Let your dear’'eyes homeward shine, Let your spirit call for mine, : And my own will answer you From the deep and boundYess blues Swifter than the sunbeam’s flight 1 will cleave the gloom of night, And will guide you to the land ‘Where our loved ones waiting stand, And the legions of the blest, They shall welcome you to rest—ghey wilt know you when your eyes n the isles of glory rise. .- ! When the parted streams of . life Join beyond all jarring strife, : And the flowers that withered lay Blossom in immortal May— When the voices hushed and'deary .© |. Thrill once more the raptured ear, ‘We shall feel and know and see God knew better far than we. e - —James G. Clark, in Home Jowrnal.

MY CHUM’S REVOLVER. IT was a Smith & Wesson six-shooter —a small affair only—that my chum. brought to our room after dark one evening, with a box of cartridges. He was angry. I had never seen such a sullen, ugly gleam in his eyes before. For Ned was naturally as genial, goodhearted a fellow as ever breathed, though very high-spirited. | It was our first term at college, and we had been having a little ‘¢ unpleasantness’’ with the Sophomores *for a week or two. Tall hats and canes were the cause of it. The Sophs did not approve of tall hats on the heads of Freshmen, nor of canes in their unsophisticated hands. ‘ : , These belonged, by royal right, to the Sophomores; sO, at least, they claimed —and it was not healthful nor safe for a Freshman to ignore the claim. It had long been the custom, when a Freshman appeared with a tall hat on, or was seen sporting a cane, to promptly con- ‘ fiscate the article and sell it, and expend the proceeds in a ‘‘pea-nut drunk.”’ In other words, if a Freshman ‘ put on style’’ -he was ‘‘hazed’’—made to feel that he was a ¢‘sub.” Indeed, about the first Latin we learned that year was the full signification of sub. %Ve found that it meant under .in every sense of the word, and applied to all Freshmen. | I 3 " Now, as to tall hats. My chum and I had both worn ¢‘ Kerseys” during our last year at the academy. Being nineteen, and men grown, we were of some little importance in our own estimation, and had the opinion that tall hats ‘were becoming. : ; In Ned’s .case, certainly, a tall hat added to his §ood looks, for he was a handsome fellow, fivé feet ten inches in height. i ‘ We knew—at least we had heard—what the Sophomores claimed, and we had talked the matter gvet before entering college. Long ago we had concluded that such ‘“hazing’” was mean, contemptible tyranny. : » Still, T had decided that, rather than have any trouble with the upper classmen, I would allow my tall hat to remain unused during my Freshman year. The point of ¢ rights” at stake did not apfiear tome to be worth fighting for.. ed, however, was more pugnacious and high-spirited. The fact that his right t 6 wear what he I}_ileased was disputed angered him.. He said that he did not.wish to wear his tall hat every ~day, or in a way offensive to the Sophomores. He had no wish to provoke a quarrel with them, but he c{’eclar'ed that, if he wanted to wear his Kersey to church on Sundays, he should wear it, or if he were going for a day on a visit or for recreation he should)vaear it if he likéd. :

rNed certainly had right on his sidé. Therefore.l ha.rd%y knew how to change -his purpose. . ‘That he would have trouble’rffelt sure, and it had always seemed better to me to keep clear of that, if possible. But when I gave this as a reason for him to accept the college custom he declared that I hadn’t ma,nlg’ spirit. L e - Inreply, he argued that it was not only cowardly, but wrong, to yield to injustice, or budge one inch for a bully. “A man,” he said, ‘‘should always stand for his rights,” which may be true or may not, according to circumstances. 0 ‘For the first week or two of the term, 'no demonstration of any sort iwas made. We were getti acquainted with the students, anng had + joined some of the ‘ societies.”. Durin§this time Ned had not wofn his ‘“ Kersey.”” Ome morning, however, _he received a letter. stating that one of his sisters, with another yo lady, would pass throuEh the town%t day ~on the two o'clock train. . This train stoo;;ped ten minutes at the 3ta.tion. Ned,trh cov.u'tl:lt‘al,l w:imt to the .to meet them. The other youn I ln?}? I mag ‘add, was a par&ouln% friend of Ned’s. Perhaps for that reason ke put on his ‘Kersey.”” .

- There were always more or less Sophs about the depot at . train-time, ang' while Ned was talking to his sister and her friend in the Pullman car, one of these youngsters saw him. Word was at once passed that ‘‘there was a Freshman under « tall hat.” Three of the Sophs instantly boarded the car, and, coming up- the aisle behind Ned, one of them brought down his ‘double fist with all his might on the top of Ned’s hat, driving'it completely over his ears. For a moment Ned was fairly hoodwinked, and could scarcely get the hat off. Then he turned on Kis assailants like a.tiEer. - His sister screamed, and caught hold of his arm; and seeing not only her terror, but that of the other ladies, Ned abruptly checked himself. ** We will see you later,” one of the Sophs said, with a grim bow, and they went. out. :

Ned came back to our room with his battered hat, in a raging excitement, and I could not blame him. To have been insulted in that gross manner before ladies was a severe test for a man’s good temper. But he had met witha still worse affront. As he came up the outer steps of the college hall, some of the Sophs threw a bucketful of dirty water over him from a second-story window. The poor fellow rushed into the room completely drenched and gmeared. : : ] | The water nearly ruined a good suit of clothes, and as for his hat, that was utterly spoiled. Ima¥ine, if you can, his anger. It was only by a great effort that he controlled himself as fig changed his clothes. Then, taking his ‘‘Horace,’ he attempted to go on with his lessons. I do not think that he closed his eyes that night. He was too much excited to sleep. : But those Sophs were not done with him yet. As we went to recitation next ‘afternoon, at three o’clock, he was again ducked from one of the upper windows. The water fell like a cataract, and, being close behind him, I received a share of it. We went to recitation with our clothes saturated; but we were hot enough inside to counteract any danger of a ‘“ chill.” : .Going out, however, I was waited on by two Sophs, who told me, with their regrets, that my ducking was wholly unintentional; and they advised me, with a laugh, not to walk too close to “ Freshman Gilmore”’ in future. In return for their warning I hinted that it was as much -as some%ody’s life was worth to insult Ned as the Sophs were doing. ‘ With a sneer, they replied that they would take some of that conceit out of him. ¢He carries his head,” said one of them. ¢‘higher than the chapel tower!” e b It was true that Ned did carry his head pretty high. He expressed his hatred and contempt of the Sophs in everiy movement. They, on their part, resolved to humble him.

Ned was ducked more than a dozen times during the next week. It seemed as if he could not stir out without bringing down a deluge upon his head. He was hooted, too, and insultingly asked why he didn’t come out in %is ““Kersey” again. They meanly tried to provoke him in every way, until the poor fellow, like a caged and tormented animal, seemed driven to desperation. Ned was a young man of good principles. He abhorred any thing mean or bad. He was warm—heartef too, and not a youth likely to do a cruel or an unlawful act. Yet the insults which the Sophs heaped upon him, and his strong sense of what he knew to be his rights, led him to buy a revolver. : - Now the man or boy who buys a revolver in anger against a fellow-being has murder 1n his heart. This I think I fully realized when Ned came into our room and took the revolver out of his pocket. % : I was frightened, and I hardly knew what to say or do. I was indignant at the treatment Ned was receiving, and had, too, something of Ned’s t%a‘ling that a young fellow ought to have manly spirit enough to stand fast for his ri%hts; stil, I saw something of the folly of Ned’s conduct. Now, I know full well that ‘no-such ‘¢ hazing tricks,” that nothing save the absolute necessity of defending one’s life, should ever induce any one to use the pistol for the purpose of shooting a fellow-being. “I will give them fair warning,” Ned said. ““I cannot endure these insults any longer. I will give them fair warning.’ T}%en if they attack me, they must tafi(e the consequences.”’ I replied that he had better go away for the rest of the term, and so prevent trouble. - ~‘*Why should I leave,” Ned argued. ‘“I have broken no law. I have interfered -with no one. Those Sophs are cowardly bullies. I will not budge an inch.” - :

But, in this not-yet-very-perfect world, it is often the I)art of superior wisdom to foresee evil and judiciously avoid ' it. No man, however eminent and talented, can always get his full rights. Some points he must yield to the imperfections and the prejudices of his felIl)ow men. The man who starts out determined to insist on his full I'i§hts in everything will soon find himself at war with everybody. Yetitis one of the hardest lessons for a spirited young fellow to learn when and how far it is better to waive his rights or his preferences. Ned was as good as his word. He fiave the Sophomores warning. At the door of their end of the hall the following notice was found posted at sunrise next morning: S TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: Certain members of the Sophomore class have outrageously and persistentl{ insulted me. I hold that, in the matter of ordinary dress,. I have a right to wear what I deem _proper. That right I shall stand for. Here-,ul‘tel‘-i ‘whoever assaults me on that account - will do so at the peril of his life. : | ol - EDWARD 8, GILMORE. - This was fire and fagots for the ‘Sophomores. A Freshman had defied ‘them. The honor of their class—a poor honor enough, to be sure—was at stake, and class pride runs very high in mang colleges —even in those where it cl;lex‘xlled ;-l;a,t ‘‘ hazing '’ has’ been abolished. ’ : ~_Hoping to avert mischief, I privately told several Sophs that Ned really had a Eiutol, and would shoot the first man who attacked him. But I only added fuel to fire. Their whole class met that night, and voted,

almost to a man, to ‘‘crush Gilmore” at all hazards. They, too, were *‘ spirited fellows.” - . X This. was Friday night. Saturday %assed in a sort of ominous silence. Ned went out but once, and then wore his. cap. But Sunday morning he dressed himself éarefullfi for church, and put on a new silk hat. The hat was a tall one, in the height of the prevailifig style. ; ‘ ; ‘“Ned, I wouldn’t do it,”’ I said to him. “¢There will be trouble, and you may be sorry for the results.” “Twill” said Ned, firmly. ¢ Bullying has got to stop here.” He then put fresh cartridges into his revolver and placed it in his breastpocket. I confess I would rather not have walked to church with Ned; but I could ‘not desert him in danger. . We set off together, and had %one ‘about half way, when, near one of the halls, we met three Sophs, each with a stout cane. No doubt they had been on the lookout for Ned. : Burnett, a leading classman of the Sophs, was one of the three. I knew they meant to attack Ned the instant I -saw them. Burnett was a trained athlete and the best oarsman and base-ball pla?'er in college. The moment we met he leaped in front of Ned, and, with a quick stroke of his heavy cane, sent the tall hat whirling into the ditch. . Whether he would have struck Ned, I don’t know. He seemed to raise his cane again, but perhaps only to defend himself. For lged jumped backward on the instant, and, drawing his revolver, fired three shots at hisassailant. I shall never forget what a sound ‘those shots had for me: : At the first fire, Burnett reeled across the sidewalk against the fence, and I saw the blood start from under his collar. : ' The ball had gone through the left. side of his neck. It seemed to stun him partially, though he did not fall, but lay or hung on t%le fence. | The second shot missed him; the third went through his coat and vest, and bedded . itse%f against the breastbone. ; The other two Sophs fell back. - Ned stood a moment looking at Burnett. - -

“¢ You ruffian!’ said he, ¢if I've killed you, you deserve it!”’ Then he returned and went to his room. The other two Sophs were completely cowed, as well they might be. . Together we carried Burnett to the steps of the hall, and took him into one of the recitation rooms. A physician was brought as speedily as possible. The ball had made an wugly furrow across Burnett’s strong neck. It was a dangerous wound, the doctor said, but not necessarily mortal. The wound on his breast was of much less consequence. That was all I waited to hear. Leaving the wounded man, I hastened to our room. ‘I shall never forget how Ned' looked at my face when % opened the door. He sat on a chair, pale as a corpse, with the revolver in his hand. “Is he dead?’ he asked, in alow tone. ' I told him that the doctor had said that Burnett would probably get well. The pistol dropped upon the floor, he buried his face in his hands, and cried like a child. Burnett was pronounced out of danger next day, and, as he declined to enter legal complaint, no arrests were made. .. Three days after, however, Ned was summongd before the President and faculty of the college, and on the following day not only ‘he, but the two Sophomores engaged in the affair, were expelled from the college, as they deserved to be. o ' Hazing, as welli as carryin%lrevolvers for personal defense, are both of them barbarous practices. There is no manhood in either. They show how enduring are the savage traits that characterized our earliest ancestors. Reason and every true manly instinct revolt at the repetition of such practices, and can only condemn them.

A Vision of Death—Saved by a Workingman’s Presence of Mind. THE infernal (yet very useful) compound is so swift and terrible in its work, and co-annihilatory in its effects, that many persons' experience a singular feeling if even in the presence of the harmless-looking fluid. They know that a slight concussion would send them into eternity with the rapidity of the lightning’s flash, and hardly atrace of their bodies be found. Men who are accustomed to nitro-glycerine are supposed to have none of these feelings, and nerve is a necessary requisite. Nevertheless, the presence of appalling danger sometimes flustrates the best of them, as will be seen by the following incident: At a certain factory not a hundred miles from Bradford were gathered the members of the firm and some workmen. The gentlemen were intently watching the process of manufacturing the explodent, when one of them incautiously dropped his cigar-stub on the floor which was covere% with running water, bearing on the surface smsl particles of nitro-glycerine. The latter caught fire and buined brilliantly with a sputtering noise. To say ‘that the spectators were alarmed would ‘be to put it very mildly. They were |simply paralyzed with terror and watched the sgreading fiery stream with the helpless fascination with which a victim is said to look in the glittering eyes of a rattlesnake. All around them were cans filled with nitro-glycerine, enough to annihilate an army, and every man felt as though he was the vietim of a hideous nigfgtmare which held him powerless. Flight was impossible; their limbs refuse«lig to perform their office; and an awful death seemed inevitable. The apparently doomed men saw the little lake of fire spread slowly but surely on the floor, but the flames hissed as' though in triumph at the certain death that seemed to await their victims. None of the spectators will soon forget this thrilling O%Yisode in their lives, and money could not hire them to regeat ‘the experiment. When the fire had al‘most reached a can filled with glycerine one of the workmen roused from his lethargy, and, taking off

his coat, spread it on the floor and extin(%nished the flames, when of course all danger ceased. One of the gentlemen present, when describing his experience said: “* I never knew before what it was to be sick from fear. When I saw the infernal stuff burning, and felt that every man of us would be blown to atoms in five seconds, every muscle of my body seemed palsied. 1 gasped-for breath, my head swam, and I only felt a deathly sensation of nausea in my stomach. All present turned an ashy paleness of the face. Then 1 vainly wondered whether there would be any pain in the death-stroke. The remembrance of a nitro-glycerine: horror, where the still palpitating heart of one of its victims was picked up ‘a minute after the explosion, came to my mind, and I surmised whether my heart would undergo that strange e:éperience after being torn from my body. The thought o? my family caused me the most goignant anguish, and tears coursed down my cheeks. Then several incidents of my life, of which I cannot speak%with pride, were vividly presented to my mind’s eye, and induced vague reflections on the subject of future punishment. Sometimes in my dreams I have felt myself in the presence of frightful peril, such as lying in the path o% an express train, or tottering on the brink of a vast abyss, but was utterly incapable of moving hand or foot for my preservation. So I seemed in this case. I could not lift a finger, though there was comparative safety in flight; paralyzed with terror was literally my condition. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting for my inevitable fate, my attention was arrested by a movement on the part of one of the workmen, who took off his coat hurriedly. Then he bent forward, and, with the utmost deliberation, laid it on the pool of fire, moving it gently along and patting it with his hands until every spark was extinguisted. The reaction from the terrible suspense was almost overpowering, and I felt weak as a child, but on going out into the open air my old time spirits came back very rapidly. May I never have another such experience.””—Bradford (Pa.) Era. :

FACTS AND FIGURES. iy g THERE are 30,000 deaf mutes in the United States, and fifty places of worship where services are conducted in the sign language. THE earnings of the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad for the fourth week in October, 1879, show an increase of $138,000, and for the month of October, 1879, show an increase of $362,020. TEN years ago the imports of stat_ionel('iy into the United States were valued at $527,465, while we exported but $3,777 in this line. For the fiscal year ending June 30, 1879, our imports of stationery were $126,862, and our exports during the same period -were $1,298,312. Dr. DRYSPALE said lately that, whereas the death rate among English infants of the comfortable class is 80 per 1,000, in cities such as Liverpool and Manchester it is 240 per 1,000, in some places even 300, and in Berlin it actuallyreaches 500. Indigence ‘is” the main cause, he thinks. "DREADFUL times are at hand. In 542 100,000,000 people perished because three planets were in perihelion, according to Gibbon, and in 1665 a similar perihelion produced the London plague, and the death of millions in Europe, Asia and Africa. In 1881 five planets will be in perihelion. What will become of us? :

Ix the official year terminating September 30, 1879, the Kingdom of Spain, exclusive of colonies beyond the seas, could boast of ninety-two Dukes, 200,000 horses, 866 marquesses, 2,500,000 of asses and mules, 632 Counts, 3,000,000 of horned cattle, ninety-two Viscounts, 23,000,000 of sheep, ninety-eight Barons, 4,500,000 of goats, 16,889 university students and 1,500,000 of hogs. THE councils for the settlement of trade disputes in: France in their last year considered 35,046 cases. Of this number 25,834 were heard ‘in private, and a reconciliation was effected in 18,415 -(seventy-one per cent.); 7,555 could not be reconciled, and were remitted for hearing to the general council, and 9,076 dit%erences were settled upon advice of the councils. As to the causes of dispute, 21,368 cases were relative to wages; 4,733 to dismissal, and 1,795 to matters affecting apprentices. DurinGg the twenty-two years, from March, 1857, toMarch, 1879, New York has received 5,732,183 immigrants. Of these, 2,165,232 were German, 2,020,071 were Irish, 742,271 were English or Welsh, 161,537 were Scotch, 124,703 were Swedes, 110,853 were French, 85,946 were Swiss, 50,581 were Italian, and 49,097 were Norwegians. There were also 40,103 Dutch, 36,993 Danes, 28,086 Russians, 10,496 Belgians, and 8,952 Spaniards included in total. In 1879, t}.r\)e total number of immigrants who landed in New York was about 80,000. - :

THE following is the annual death rate per 1,000 in the tprincipal cities of the world, compiled from the latest returns: Calcutta, 24; Bombay, 388} Madras, 88; Paris, 22; Geneva, 25; Brussels, 27; Amsterdam, 23; Rotterdam, 21; The Hague, 23; Copenhagen, 26; Stockholm, %.%:l Christiana, 15; St. Petersburg, 31; Berlin, 26; Hamburg, 26; Dresden, 21; Breslau, 28; Munich, 34; Vienna, 24; Buda-Pesth, 30; Rome, 85; Naples, 23; Turin, 27; Alexandria, 40; Brooklyn, 21; Philadelphia, 15; London, 22, and Baltimore 19. | f FRANCE produces, on an aver?je,60,000,000 hectoliters of wine annually —each hectoliter being equal to twentytwo gfillons; Italy produces 30,000,000 hectoliters; Austria»liunga.%, about 23,000,000; Spain, about 20,000,000, and Germany 4,500,000 hectoliters. The annual production of sparkling wines in Germany does not exceed from 3,000,000 to 4,000,000 bottles, of which from 1,000,000 to 1,500,000 are consumed in the country, while from 2,000,000 to 2,500,000 are exported. The im;éc;rtation of French: 'champazgne into rmany. amounts to about 2.500,000 bottles a year. The annual wine produce nf Portugal is estima.t%d ‘at 4,000,000 hectoliters, of which 8,000,000 are consumed in the country, 500,000 exported, and the remainder distilled or turned into vinegar. %

9 Youths’ Department. SR g s s D e e . WHAT AILED THE PUDDING? § —_— . i * WHAT shall we have for dinner, to-day?” Said Mrs. Dobbs, in her pleasant way: ; ‘ For Sa.lgr has mueh to do and would wish That we’d get along with an easy dish— Something that wouldn’t take long to prepare, . Or really require much extra care.” Said Mrs. Dobbs: ‘‘There isn’t a doubt§ But what we’d all faney a stirabout!”’ ‘* A hasty pudding! Hurrah! that’s nice!”’ Exclaime(? thg‘i girls and boys in a trice. Then Sally put on the biggest pot, And soon the water was boiling hot, 3 : And Mrs. Dobbs mixed together some flour And water, and in less than half an hour The pudding began to bubble tg) thick And dance about with the pudding stick. e Said Mr. Dobbs, as he made a halt: **Our Sally is apt to forget the salt; : So I'll put in a pinch ere I leave the house,” And he went on tip-toe, as still a 8 a mouse, And, droppinf a handful in very quick, - Stirred it well about with the pudding-stick, And sai;l to himself: “Now, isn’t this clever " 7. At which the pudding laughed louder than ever. . Then Mrs. Dobbs came after awhile, And looked in the pot with a cheery smile, And thought how much she’d enjoy the treat, And hotw muech the children would want to -eat; g § . Then said: *“Our Sally has one {reat fault— She is very apt to forget the salt.!”’ And into the hasty pudding was sent A handful of this ingredient. , John, George and Jennie, and Bess, in turn, Gave the stick a twist, lest the pudding burn; For oh! how em?ty and wretched they’d feel If any thing ruined their noonday meal! And each in turn began to reflect, And make amends for Sally’s neglect, For the girl was good, but she had one fault— She was very apt to forget the salt! s But Sally herself, it is strange to say, Was not remiss in her usual way; But before she went to her up-stairs work She threw in a handful of salt with a jerk, And stirred the gudding, and stirred the fire, Which made the bubbles leap higher and higher, And z}ts s?{on as the clock struck twelve she - too The great big pot off the great big hook.

It wasn’t scorched. Ah! that was nice! And one little dish would not suffice Mr. or Mrs. Dobbs, I fuess, x John, or Geor%e, or Jennie or Bess: And as for Sally, I couldn’t say How much of the pudding she’d stow away, For she was tired and hungry, no doubt, : And very fond of this'stirabout. ; A happier group you’d ne’er be able To fing than sat at the Dobbs’ table, ‘With plates and stpoons, and a hungry wish To eat their fill of the central dish. . ; But as Dobbs began to taste The pudding, he dropped his spoon in haste; And all of the children did likewise, As big as saucers their staring eyes.

Said Mrs. Dobbs, in a voice not sweet: ** Why, it isn’t fit for the pigs to eat!” s And I doubt if an artist would e’er be able To depict their 100 ks as they left the table. Said Sally: ‘I thought it would be so nice! But I must have salted that pudding twice!” And none of the family mentioned that they Had a hand in spoiling the dinner that day. —Josephine Pollard, in N. Y. Independent.

FANNY AND NELLY. FANNY hadn’t been very. well, and she was just as cross as she eould be; she didn’t like her dessert, and she didn’t feel glad that Grandma Rice had come over, and she was, as grandma said, quite cantankerous. . . ““But when you’ve had the mumps, and burnt your fin%e'r, and stubbed your toe, even if you have ‘tost got over’ these afflictions, you don’t feel as bright as you did; and because you don’t have to stay in bed, every one thinks you are all well, and don’t give you any more chicken and currant jelly, even if your biggest doll is broken,” said Fanny, to ier baby brother’s nurse. : : ““That's ever se mean,” said nurse; ¢ but if I were you, I'd go and play with those other little girls. There’s Kitt Bly and Nelly Blué and Amy Jones, afi going down to the pond meadow. You go, 00, only be sure you don't get too near the edge of the water and tumble in. ‘Don’t you hear them: calling ? There go.” ; The children were all so gay that for a while Fanny was gay, too. But she did not feel well yet; it tired her to run; it made her hot to jump, and finally she quarreled with the whole party, and slapped Nelly Bluff when she tried to see whether she liked butter by holdin%‘l a buttercup under her chin, and she said: « ¢ Go away, you nasty thing!"” ‘““You're just hateful, Fanny Trip,” said Nelly. “I’m not going to speak to you any more.” : “You ought to be ashamed,” said Kitt}' Bly. S «“T would not be so mean for a hundred dollars,” said Amy Jones. “You most put my eye out,” said Nelly. ¢ Come, let’s go home.”” - The three girls put their arms about each other’s waists and walked away, lea,Vl“l:g Fanny Trip on the grass under the willow, and she hid her face that nobody should see she was crying, and squealed out: - . ! “Go-away! Who cares? None of you shall swing in my hammock any more.”” e i

Nelly’s mother was just setting some pies out to cool. ‘¢ Come in, girls,”” she called. ‘“ Come in and you shall each have a little turnover. Why, where is Fanny? I thought she was with you.”? ¢ Fanny slapped me,” said Nelly. ¢ Well, you mustn’t mind. She’svery young and hasn’t much sense yet,”’ said Mis. %lufi'. < Besides, she’s half sick yet. Here, sit down on the porch and eat I¥our turnovers. You’d better go call Fanny and make up with her, and she can have one, too.’ _j < I'll never speak to her again,’’ said Nelly. : 1 2ot KI one of us will ever speak to her again.”’ said Amy. s “ No, indeed,” said Kitty. ¢ She’s too bad.” o Mo Then the three girls sat down and ate their turnovers, and abused Fanny Trip. The{ told each other how mean she was. They declared they wouldn’t sit next her in school, or _plz,y in any game she played in. A “All this while the sky had been darkening, and the thunder muttering. Now the trees began to blow about, and the sheets on the clothes-lines toflap about, and the hat of old Grandfather Butterman, who was driving his wagon down the road, was blown off his afiea&, and wfiant skipping up the road as if it was alive. y .

“Come into the house, girls,” cried Mrs. Bluff, catching up the tray with pies on it. ‘‘ Come in, quick. And as the followed(imer in, a great streak of liggtnin flashed across the skg and the thundger began to roar. - uch a storm nobodi ever saw pgfore';" but in its midst, drenched and dripping, though she was wrapped in a great

cloak, came Mrs. Trip, l'fanny’s' mother, wnngéng her hands and erying: ‘¢ Where’s Fanny—where is my poor little Fanny? Oh, isn't my i‘anny here?” : " The girls looked at each other and turned pale. Wb » ¢‘She went to play with you,” said Mrs. Trip. ‘‘She was the smallest of {'ou. She’d been sick. Where did you eave: herbl’ .0 0 o ‘“ Well, she slapped me,"” said Nelly, faintly. L “Vghere_'is she? Tell me!" almost screamed Mrs. Trip. ¢‘ She is such a frail little -thing. She'll die of this drenching. Quick, tell me!” ; ¢ She was under the big willow by the Eond,” said Kitty Bly. < We didn’t now it was going to rain, and she said, ‘Go aWa’ly!’ : T v Mrs. Trip ran to the door; but the next instant the most dreadful peal of thunder shook the house; everything rattled, every one shrieked. ; ‘*‘Something is struck!” said Mrs. Bluff. ¢“lt's the willow! It’s the willow!” cried Mrs. Trip. ¢ The willow you left my little Fanny under!” = She rushed out. All followed her. The willow had been struck; half of it lay across the meadow, and the other, despite the rain, was ablaze. ‘“ My child is dead!” screamed Mrs. Trip, e Ll ok 0 ¢“Oh, dear! how terrible!”’ cried Mrs. Bluff, running after her. ¢ Oh! perhaps it isn’t so!"’ L : 'lf'he rain beat on the two mothers; the lightning flashed overhead; but they were soon down in the meadow beside the fallen willow. 1t lay in a great heap, and from under one of the eaviest pieces obtruded a piece of pink ribbon. It was theribbon of Fanny’s hat. i ; “Oh, my little girl! My only little, girl! My treasure, my love!” shriefied Mrs. Trip. - - The thunder was 'ig;lmwing fainter, the rain less furious. The three little girls had followed the two women and stood crying beside them. They all tried to lift the great log, but in vain. Mrs. Trip was hearly out of her mind. What was Fanny’s crossness to her playmates now? ' Nelly Bluff forgot’ the slap. If only that she had made up with her! If only they had not left her under the willow! - :

¢ Go blow the horn for pa to come,” said Mrs. Bluff, between her tears. “There can’t be any hope, but we must get the poor little child’s body out as soon as we can.” ; ; ¢“Oh! oh! oh! it is just as if I murdered her,” sobbed Nelly Bluff. “You did,”” said Mrs. Trip, ‘¢ Hallo! you women folks,” cried a gruff- voice. ‘‘Don’t make so much noise until you know-you are hurt.”” It was Grandfather Butterman who spoke. He had found his hat ard sat on his wagon laughing. : : ‘“Grandpa Butterman, the willow has fallen on little Fanny Trip. Don’t speak in that light way, just now.”” , ¢ Pshaw,’” said Grandpa Butterman. “You're just like all women, carried. away by imagination. Here, Mrs. Trip,: here’s your%l‘anny, safe and sound, in the back of my wagon. I rid down here to catch my hat, and I see her under the tree, and says I: ‘Here, you little one, trees ain’t safe to be under in a thunderstorm. I'll ride you home.” So I jest helped her in, and we'd drove about two minutes when crash came the lightning and smash ‘went the tree, and it was mighty lucky she wasn’t under it that minute.”” * ¢« Oh, mamma, mamma,’’ cried Fanny, Creepin% out of the back of the W&%OII, ¢ Oh, mamma, fire came out of heaven and hit the tree, and I guess 1t meant to hit me ’cause. I was such a naughty g'lirl, and I prayed in the wagon, and I mean to be good always after this.”’ ) St No need to sa,z how Fanny's mother clasped her to her heart, how all the rest kissed her, how glad they all were, and how thankful to Grandfather Butterman, who took: them all home in his Wagon,'la;l{gh_ing and crying together.—Mary Kyle Dallas, in Interior.

Professor | Thomson’s Silver Wedding. PrOFESSOR J. S. THOMSON and wife celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on Tuesday evening. The affair was conductedin such a quiet-and unostentatious style that the event was scarcely known outside the Noble block. A Dispaich-reporter, furious at the clandestine manner in which the weddinge had been celebrated, called upon tge Professor yesterday for satisfaction, resolved to take it out in interviewing. : ' ¢ Silver wedding! Oh! ah! yes! 1 believe there was somet‘hing of the kind,” said the Professor; reflectively. s« Presents, do you ask? Yes, sir, they were just tremendous. But the chances are we should not have had so many if we had not had the forethought to issue invitations one hundred and two -days beforéhand, so as to give our friends plenty of time to brus%l up old silverware, and take a good -look around for A something _c%eap, All right, lam getting on to the character of the presents. Give me time. Let me see, supposé you say there were a number of silver sets that looked as if they had been setting a yery long time. Tea sets, coffee sets, cider sets, wine sets, plated washstands, Lfi'lded fire shovel and tongs, a solid gold coal scuttle, presumed to have been sent by Vic-toria.——njckel-,plateddressi%;gmwnsent by Tilden. A railroad by Vanderbilt, a peck of assorted salt s’;;oons by ‘numerous friends,’ and in fact everything which a famil{ needs, all du‘phcated S 0 many times that I think of starting a five-cent store to get the truck off my TR B e There was something in the Professor’s eye and tone that warned the reporter to forbear. «You dislike presents, Professor?”’ . «] detest the practice, sir, and there is the reason of our quiet celebration.— Evie (Pa.) Dispatch. . —«Stolen fruits may be the sweetes{i” but whenl the m’féitga!l?i;fls himself up an apple tree with a big dog at the foot, anflle discovers ""fiwy“th%gfiB e you can’t patch up his wounded fee mmw&fia&&s that.—Oil Oity Derrick. .~ B ks g e ‘“&&K- St Rt R