Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 December 1874 — Page 1

HORACE E. JAMES & JOSHUA HEALEY, Proprietors.

VOL. VII.

LITTLE WOMAN. Banning out to meet me gladly— Little woman ; * Or, with sweet and sunny face bent Smiling on me from the casement— Little woman. Could I ever meet it sadly? Ever cease to love her madly? Love that matches her but badly— Little woman. Cosy, all her modest dwelling— Little woman. Fires ever brightly glowing. Flowers ever freshly blowing Little woman; And a placid smlie still telling Of a gentle bosom swelling With a peace all peace excelling— Little woman. Just to hear her tender greeting— Little woman. Never word unkindly spoiling, Home for husband sad or toiling— Little woman. Just to feel her warm lips meeting, Just to hear her fond heart beating— It was worth a year’s entreating— Little woman. Men may grumble at their cares— Little woman; And on women’s rights loudly railing, Talk of women’s wrongs prevailing— Little woman. But the best of household fairies Is the wife whose golden hair is Drooping o’er her husband’s chair —his Little woman.

THE ANCIENT GOOSE.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.

That’s what they said of him. His mustache was gray, he was past thirtynine, and, not being married, was considered solitary. It mattered little to him. The care of his patients kept him bright and active. His profession was sufficient for his wants. He was the loved and respected physician for half the families in the place, and he never wanted for company and friendship. Why he had never married had been the speculation of the village. The subject was now threadbare, and they had ceased to talk of it. He saw much of female society, for he was one of those fine, rare natures that make “brothers to girls.” His genial good nature, and, above all, his ability to keep secrets, made him in deed the brother to half the girls in Wauchusetta. They came to him with their little pains and ills and their little heart-breakings and love sorrows. For the one he had pills and advice; for the other a ready ear, counsel, help and confidence. No wonder Sally Depford came tearful and angry to " him in her little difficulty with Sam Barrett. A small rage made her the more attractive. As the doctor heard her woful tale he could hardly fail to study her face with admiration. Young, twenty years his junior, rather pretty, reasonably well educated, sensible, and quite ready for a joke at any time, she preferred the bright side of everything. Hence her present sorrow. She did not wish to be “ bothered," as she expressed it, with a serious love affair. It was a trouble, a vexation, an interference with her pleasure, and—- “ Well, there! It’s entirely dreadful, and I don’t want it, nor him. Just as I was fairly out of school and preparing to have a splendid time with the girls then this thing comes along, and I don’t like it.” She tried to cry, but could not. It was not worth crying about, So she brushed back the black hair from behind her ears, looked the venerable doctor straight in the eye, and said: “ That is so, Doctor. Is it not?” The doctor had no immediate reply to make. He would consider the case—and her. There was something peculiarly attractive about her fafce, and it wan small wonder that Sam Barrett, the last beau left in the village, was desperately in love with her. • She frowned. He was too slow “ Come, sir, parade your wisdom. I can pay for advice, and I want it.” “ Go to bed early, get up late, and sleep it off.” “ That’s very good for him. Tell him that, please. As for me, it does not help a bit. There it stands. He will pursue me with attentions. I don’t Want ” “ Snub him.” “He’s not snubable. Snubbing falls harmless on his good-natured temperament. I’ve tried it, and it don’t work. He took it like a lamb.” “Tell him you’re not at home.” “Then he leaves his card and says he will call again. And he is sure to do so.” “ Poor boy! He has it very bad this time. The symptoms are alarming.” “ They are, .Doctor, they are. andl don’t like it. It’s a nuisance, and a bother, and I hate him. There!” “Feel better, my dear?” “ Yes; for I’m getting mad. I feel like breaking things, and ” “ You do. You do it all the time. Poor boy! I’m not surprised! Here you go about the place, being as attractive as possible, and then you break all our hearts, and scold us for it. What do you expect?” “ It’s not my fault. I didn’t make myself.” “ Well—no—not exactly- ” “ For Heaven’s sake, Doctor, why don’t you do something? Advise me.” “Gat married!” “ Doctor, you are too hateful.” “I presume so; doctors always are. But that’s my advice. Get married; then he can no longer trouble you.” “{now you’re silly, Doctor, and I sha’n’t tell you any more. Yon don’t care a straw for my troubles, after all, and ” Here she began to be teary, and threatened to have “a good cry.” *My dear, my advice is not so bad. You must admit that if you were engaged he would leave you at once." “ I suppose so.” “ Yes. Then get engaged; or, if you don’t care to go %o far, arrange with some young man to be engaged to him temporarily. Then your Sam ” - “ He’s not my Sam, thank Heaven! n * -h \ ■ * “ Then your Sam will take unto himself another wife, and when all is secure you can break your engagement, and all will be serene again.” “ What an absurd idea! Jump into

THE RENSSELAER UNION.

RENSSELAER, JASPER COUNTY, INDIANA, DECEMBER 3, 1874.

the water for the sake of escaping from drowning. I tell you I don’t want anybody’s attention. It would be a dreadful trial to be engaged at all, even in self-defense.’’ “ Not if the other party would agree to keep himself away, and simply lend a diamond ring for a while, and play the part of the distant intended?” “ I don’t know, Doctor; it is a desperate measure. But it would be effectual.” “ Of course.” “It would be rather amusing to go home and announce that I was engaged. I should have to tell mother how it really stood, and father would be, of course, let into the secret. The rest need not know. Goodness! what a scattering there would be, and how all the, old ladies would talk.” ' • r “ You need not care. It would he easy to act your part, and in a few weeks all would he comfortably over and everything would be serene again.” “ I declare, Doctor, the more I think of it, the more amusing it seems. It is very wicked, no doubt, but, then, the case is a hard one ” “ And demands heroic remedies.” “Precisely. Now the next step is to get up a good lover. I shall not expect much. Any straw man that’s convenient will answer. Do you know of one, Doctor—a good one? He must be nice, and all that, or I couldn’t endure it.” “ Well—no—l cannot think of one just now. There are none living near that are available. Perhaps we might import one.” “Doctor, I’ve an idea.” “ How startling! Bring it forth, that I may admire it.” T _ “ Y ou be the lover.” “ All right. I’m willing.” “ Then we’re engaged.” “ Yes—for the present.” “ In fun, you know.” “Oh! of course. Till Sam gets married, or till you wish to break it,” “Where’s the ring?” “Oh! I have one up-stairs—an old one. I suppose it will answer to cover our little arrangement.” “ How splendid of you, Doctor!” “ Now you must go. Old Mrs. Davis is coming soon with her neuralgia. Shall I tell her?” “ Tell her what?” “ Of the engagement.” “ Yes. Just hint it, and before night the town will know it.” =—

And they did. How they snatched up the stray morsel of gossip and stirred it into their tea with the sugar. Fortunate circumstance. It soured on their stomachs—the news, not the tea. Even the sugar and the good Bohea did not save them from expressing, with beautiful freedom, just what they thought about it. “Such an old goose to be taken in by that designing Sally Depford! The minx! the little contriving—artful ” Such language! It is not pretty. History like this cannot stoop to report all that was said concerningthelast new engagement, As for Sam Barrett, he faded beautifully away, and actually disappeared. He suddenly found “ a tip-top chance for business, you know, in New York. Ought to go right on and fix it up.” His parting with Sally was not particularly'affecting. She wouldn’t allow it. That curious, antique, diamond ring flashed in his astonished eyes, apd his affection melted softly away into nothing, like the cloud of white steam under which he escaped in the 3:40 p. m. express. The whistle echoed among the Wauchusetta hills, and the gentle Sally heard it without a sigh. Some of the other girls could hardly forgive her for driving away the only available young man in the place, but they soothed their lacerated feelings with the sweet hope that, as the summer vacation was near at hand, a new importation of city visitors from Boston and New York might “ make it gay again,” and spread wide once more the matrimonial horizon.

The suddenness and complete success of the victory rather surprised the victor. She had succeeded beyond her expectations. Now that it was all over she would return the ring, and—well, no, perhaps she might keep it just one more night. Cousin Mary lsepford was coming to spend the night, and it would be rather amusing to wear the ring a little longer and to let her into tne secret She would return the ring in the morning. Pleased with this unspoken plan she set the ring firmer on her finger and prepared to receive her “company.” Cousin Mary Depford was charmed with the ring and was profuse in her congratulations. Sally took them quietly enough. ~ “ It's all a joke, you know, dear.” “A joke!” “ Yes, dear, a little—well—game, if I may so speak:”’" Cousin Mary was properly shocked. In the retirement of her own room she expressed her mind fully, and declared she would not wear the ring another moment. It was a pretense, and—a shame to do such a thing, Sally was startled and pleaded the dreadful necessity of the case. “He was such a bore, you know, and, really —what could I do? It was all in fun. There’s nothing serious. I mean to return the ring to-morrow.” “ l wouldn’t wear it another minute if I were you, Sally Depford.” Sally laughed and still retained the ring. She would return it to-morrow. She would wear it one more night —for it was, really, such a handsome ring. The doctor behaved 3 beau ifully. He only called once, and didn’t even ask her to ride or walk. “ He walks so fast —and as for that old chaise, you know how it creaks.” It was a very proper engagement. Rather cool, perhaps. What could you expect? He was past forty, if a day, they said. * She did not re,turn the ring the next day. It rained. She sent a note to the doctor the following day, asking him to call for it He was away—wouldn’t be back tilljMonday. Of course she must wear the ring one more Sunday: and she did—in spite of Cousin Mary Depford’s remonstrance. / On Monday she carried the ring* still

on her huger, to the doctor. He vu just starting off on a professional tour when she came, and he was so merry, and there were so many things to talk about, that she quite forgot the ring. Besides, there stood the Widow Bigelow in the next yard pretending to hang out her clean clothes on the line and watching with both eyes. Cousin Mary Depford was harassing. They had a little “ tiff,” after the manner of girls, and made it up on the strength of a promise from Sally that she would certainly return the ring tomorrow. - : ——-—— On the morrow she started, ring on finger, to duly return it. He was not at home. She went again just before tea time. He was at tea and pressed her to stay and take supper with his good old housekeeper and himself. She hesitated a moment—then accepted. She could quietly hand him the ring after supper, and in the meanwhile she might as well “ have a good time." The fine old house, the elegant dining-room, and the cosy table, set for three, were charming. The doctor was a good talker, and cultivated and refined in his manners. She had been obliged to bear much wretched gossip for the last week ortwof. It was quite proper she should stay to tea. It would be rather amusing to see just how it seemed to be engaged. She might as well have a good time, for it would soon be over. She would return the ring as soon as the housekeeper retired. The housekeeper did nothing of the kind. As soon as tea was over she took her knitting and sat down by the open window in the parlor, where she could see everything that happened both in the house and in the garden. The doctor acted his part to perfection. He was not too attentive, to attract attention from the housekeeper, nor did he forget for a moment to be watchful of his guest’s happiness. At 10:30 p. m. Sally returned to her own room, looking wonderfully serene and happy. Cousin Mary Depford was silent and watchful. Presently she saw something, and said; “O Sally!” ' _ “Well, dear?”

“ Where’s the ring?” “O my love! I quite forgot all about it; I did, indeed. I’ll take it right back to-morrow.” As for the doctor, he sat up half the night pacing his room alone and in the dark. At midnight he was called out to see some distant patient. He was glad to go. The cool ride through the solemn dark gave him a chance to think. The next day Sally boldly started for the doctor’s to return the ring. He was not at home. Of course she could not leave it with the housekeeper . Besides, why should aha-take the trouble to carry, it to him? It was not her place. He should ask for it. . Cousin Mary fairly raged. For the first time Sally was really unhappy over the matter, and in a little passion she pulled off the ring and threw it in a drawer. “I’ll return it by mail, Mary! Now leave me in peace!” There was no peace. Without a thought she walked up alone to the Postoffice through the village street to get the evening mail. It did seem as if the whole town were waiting for their letters. It was too warm for gloves, and in her haste to get her letters she forgot the absent ring. Such a lilting of eyebrows and whispering! Flushed and angry with herself, she darted out of the letter office only to almost run into the doctor’s arms. She hid her hand in the folds of her dress, and with a forced smile bade him good evening. He spoke pleasantly, smiled, and passed on. In a moment Sally heard his footsteps behind her as she walked rapidly home. She would not turn nor speak to him on the public road—and that would only make matters ten times worse. What was she to do? It was dreadful! How she wished she had never touched the ring! To her surprise he overtook her, and quietly and firmly put her arm in his. For a moment she experienced a sense of unutterable relief and satisfaction. She leaned upon him for support, and was gratified as he seemed to draw her closer. How good in him to come to her rescue! “ The curtain has not been rung down yet, Miss Depford.” „ - The curtain! Oh! he was only carrying out the joke! With a forced laugh she took the hint, and in a moment was as merry and chatty as ever. Once the doctor looked at her in a questioning way, and once he was silent for a whole minute. •' . ,-v 1 .

They walked on arm-in-arm up the village street, and at the sight half the town was dumb with astonishment, and the other half whispered the dreadful news about the missing ring. Little did they care. They walked on and on, and almost before Sally was aware of it they arrived at the doctor’s gate. The doctor opened the wicket, and with a smile held it wide for her to enter. She paused. Was it right? Was she not carrying the joke altogether too far? The blood mounted to her temples, and she was silent. “ Will you not come in, Miss Depford, and make us a little call?” “ No—l—thank you. Not—now.” She put out her hand to sustain herself, and laid her ungloved fingers on the top of the gate-post. She felt ready to faint with mortification, shame and disappointment. This was the end. It was only a joke—a pretense —and “ Miss Depford,” said the doctor, in a low voice, “where is my ring? She snatched her hand away, and, hiding it in her dress, turned away to hide her face “ Pardon me, pardon me, Doctor; I am much to blame. I didn’t mean any harm, and I Sated—hated —” “ Hated whom?” ' “ That—Sam Barrett; and I was so g.ad to escape from him that I am afraid I’ve done very wrong—very wrong indeed.” “How so?” 1 “In carrying but this dreadful, dread-' ful joke, as you call it. lam well pun-

idled for my folly. I took the ring off because I must—return it to you.” “ But—Sally—l do not wish you to return it.” She turned around amazed. What did he mean? One glance was sufficient. “ Come in—please—my love.” She took his arm again without a word, and they walked slowly up the graveled path toward the old mansion. The housekeeper came out and bade them welcome m a grand and impressive manner. The evening shadows fell on the lawn. The crickets began to chirp in the grass. The air seemed laden with tin perfume of summer flowers. The ancient ivy seemed to even vaguely hint a! autumn as it hung in motionless festoons from the walls. There was a sober air about the place, far different from her girlhood’s home. The doctor offered her an arm-chair on the wide piazza. How courtly and dignified his manners. His hair was gray—with honorable toil. He leaned over her and whispered: “It is an old-fashioned place, and I am such an ancient, solitary” “Hush! it’s home —our home.” The housekeeper turned proudly away from such childish nonsense, and furtively wiped a tear for the lamented, solitary goose. —American Homes.

Little Letters.

Matilda.— Good husbands are skarse —so are good wives—and it looks to me just now az tho they waz going to be more skarser. Yu kant ketch good husbands bi fishing too mutch for them; they are a game fish, and are very pertikerlar about the bait, and how it iz handled. There is grate skill too in reeling them in after they are fairly hooked. Menny a fine fish haz been lost by kareless reelj ing in. Morris. —l am an advokate ov Fashion, not bekauz I luv it for itself, but bekauz i kno its power, and am anxious to hav it kept az hi toned az possible. Fashion controls the acktions ov more people to-day than religion duz. Harrold.— The usual substitute for a baby in the houshold iz a lap dog, and 1 have allwuss pittyed the dog. Dogs luv to run around out doors nights, sleep in the coal box, hav a skirmish now and then with some other purp in the neighborhood, hunt for fleas, and burry and dig up Jiones on their own account.

It iz tuff on a dog to be held in the lap all the time, to be fed with a spoon and hav hiz ears put up in kurl papers, and hiz tail braided—it iz mortal tuff on the dog, I tell yu. Gertrude. —Yu tell me that yu hav been 5 years at a boarding-skool. and hav just finished yure edukashun and want to kno what yu shall do next. Listen, mi gushing Gertrude, and I will tell yu. Git up in the mornmg in good season go down into the kitchen, seize a potatoe by the throat with one hand and a knife with the other, skin the potato and a dozen more just like it, stir up the buckwheat batter, look in the oven and see how the biskitt are doing, bustle around generally, step on the cat’s tail and help yure good old mother git brekfast. After brekfast put up the yung children’s luncheon for skool, help wash up the dishes, sweep sum, put things in order and sumtime during the day nit at least two inches and a half on sum one pf yure brother’s little blue woolen stockings for next winter. In other words go to work and make yureself usefull now that yu hav becum ornamental, and if yu hav enny time left after the beds are all made and the duks hav been fed pilch into the pianna and make the old rattle box skream with musik. Do this for one year, and sum likely yung fellow in the naborhood will hear ov it, and will begin to hang around yu, and say sweeter things than yu ever heard before, and finally will give yu a chance to keep hous on yure own hook. Yu follow my advice, Gerty, and see if he dont Peck.— Mi opinyun ov the lottery bizzness iz very well developed, and i hav notissed that putting a very little money to ketch a good deal with haz allwuss been the pltm ov very cunning men, but not the plan ov very wize men. Thare iz plenty ov folks in this world who, if they buy 500 dollars’ worth ov lottery tickets and draw 375 dollars back, think they are on the sure road to auckcess, and this iz just what makes the lottery ritch, and keeps the fellow who invests in it allwuss greing poorer. The chances ov drawing a large prize in a lottery iz just about az certain az the north pole gitting struk with litening. Lotterys are legalized in sum States, but they are the very wust kind uv gambling, bekauze they are so sekret. A man better thro the money into the fire that he invests in lotterys, for he mite git sik ov that after a while and quit.

Mrs. Tccker. —Neatness iz one ov the virtews, and it ain’t one ov the least ones neither. But thare iz a certain kind ov hail Columbia! neatness that makes the possessor ov it and everyboddy else around them mizerable. I hav seen good square Christian wimmin who would sLrub sumthingfrom Jan. 1,1871, to Jan. 1,1872, and deklare all the time “ that things waz too filthy for ennything.” I hav known them to git up at four o’clock in the morning, and hunt for dirt bikandle lite, and keep hunting until bedtime, and then hav a cockroach nite mare, of dream haft the nite that the old hous kat waz in sum kind ov mischief. ■if these kind ov wimmin hav enny children they wear themself out, and the children too, trieing to keep the molasses off from their bibs and following them around to see if they brought enny mud into the hous on their shuze. Thare iz no peace and quietness in a housbold ov this kind ; every boddy iz oneasy, and the kat iz on the jump, all the time. —Joth Billing*, in N. T. Weekly. 1 The tea-dealer’s motto—Honest tea.

A Horrible Snake Story.

Messrs. D. 8. Perkins, Joseph Straley and John F. Stienrack, a party of Chicago tourists, returned yesterday from a three months’ trip through Park, Summit and Grande Counties. They fitted out an outfit at Simpson’s corral last July, and drove down southward and prospected from Granite to Fort Steele, on the Union Pacific. These gentlemen relate a most horrible Snake story, which will bear repeating. They were encamped in Elk Head Mountains, in the on the 10th of last September, when they met with a misfortune which cost one of the party his life. The party arrived in camp late one night after a day’s hunt and ramble over the hills. After a hearty supper the party lay down in their blankets around the fire, which had been built in the cleft of some large quartz rocks, and all were soon fast asleep. Mr. Straley was awakened in the night by a heavyweight upon his chest. At first he supposed it was his brother’s hand, but as it did not move, and becoming nervous and alarmed, he raised his head, and was hor» rifled to find a large mountain rattlesnake coiled upon his chest, with its head nestled down in the center of the coil. It was nearly daylight, but Mr. Straley was so paralyzed with fear that he could not make a noise and dared not move. He recovered his presence of mind so far as to be aljje to draw the blanket over his face.. This ‘'movement startled the reptile monster, wmckglhjgd from him to his brother, who was sleeping with him. The snake passed from his breast to his brother’s face, when in a fatal moment Henry Straley raised his hand to tear it away. There was a fierce rattle and a loud cry from the half-awakened boy, and the monster buried its fangs in his right hand and a second time in his cheek. There was a horrible scream from Henry Straley as the poor boy jumped to his feet, while the snake glided from the blankets to a large flat rock near the embers of the fire. Mr. Jenkins fired his revolver at the horrible creature, and at the second shot brought it down. Poor young Straley was soon suffering the most intense agony. His brother, at his request, cut out a large portion of the cheek in hopes that the poison had not penetrated very deep,, and a tight ligature was bound around the wrist of the bitten hand, which was bathed in cold water. But nothing the horrified young men could do availed to save the poor boy. He died in less than two hours in the most terrible agony. Had the party been supplied with a plentiful supply of whisky his life might have been saved, but they had none with them. The body changed color within three hours after the accident. The young men conveyed the corpse to Fort Steele, whence it was shipped home to Chicago for interment. The snake measured four feet in length and had nine rattles, which were taken off, and which were shown to our reporter at the corral last evening. —Denver (OW.) World.

A Thrifty Wife.

A case which gave a queer specimen of woman’s rights was reported in our court reports Saturday. It appears therefrom that Charles A. Mayhugh went to California, and in 1859 ceased to communicate with his wife. After waiting eight years the wife gave him up for dead, and, through a real estate agent named Robinson, exchanged her property in this city for a farm. Five years after that Mayhugh turned up, claimed his property in the city, and Robinson paid him $3,000 for a quitclaim deed. Doubtless Robinson thought that, as the wife had conveyed all, she had conveyed her right in it! But in a year Mayhugh died, and then the wife put in a claim,to her dower in the very property she had conveyed wholly to Robinson when she thought her husband dead. Thus she made a good thing out of him, both dead and alive. Robinson was now called on to pay the third time for what he bought out and out the first. The dower claim was defeated in the Court of Common Pleas, but the District Court held that as the wife’s deed, when her husband lived, was null, her right of dower still remained. As there is no bar to a wife’s securing a conveyance, we suppose she held on to the farm that was conveyed to her, and that Robinson had no recourse on her. This was considerably better than the entire independence of the wife. —Cincinnati Gazette.

So Many Cabbages.

£ Those public speakers who are afraid to venture before an audience without notes will find encouragement in the following story told of a poor country priest who preached such excellent sermons that the fame of them came to the ears of the Cardinal Archbishop of the diocese, who felt his curiosity excited and determined to go and hear for himself. He accordingly set out one Sunday morning, he and his suite —Chaplain, VicarGeneral and Secretary—and, arrayed in full canonicals, invaded the small village church filled with wondering bumpkins. The poor priest had not counted on suck goodly company, but the sight of the* Cardinal seemed to have very little effect upon him. He went through the service : in his usual simple manner, and afterward preached a sermon of such impressive eloquence that the Cardinal felt moved and followed “him into the vestry when mass was over to compliment him. Probably His Eminence was not more exempt than other folk from the occasional failing-of snobbishness; for, after hav--1 ing offered his praises, he could not resist | the temptation of adding: “ I congrat- | ulate you the more, sir, that I was afraid my presence might perhaps render you nervous and prevent you from speaking with your ordinary excellence ” “ O no, ! my lord, answered the priest, with a mild ; look at the Cardinal’s scarlet robes, “I ! make it a point in preaching to look upon my congregation as so niany cabbages, and a red cabbage more or less makes not the slightest differehce.” We are not told that the priest was promoted to a j riches benefice after this retort, but it 1 cannot have mattered much in his case,

SUBSCRIPTION; a Year, In Adraaea

The recent shooting of the two children of Joseph Brown, of Plainfield, Conn., by his son, a lad of twelve years, proves a shocking instance of juvenile depravity. The children were at play during the absence, of their parents, when the boy brought out a loaded gun from the bedroom, saying he was going to kill some of them. He found some caps, put one on, took deliberate aim, and fired at his infant brother, who was only two feat distant from the muzzle. The little one was fearfully mangled. A little girl in whose lap the babe was sitting was also struck in the face and shoulders, a ball passing through her cheeks, cutting her tongue, and knocking out two teeth, while several lodged in her face and neck. As soon as the deed had been done she laid the dying babe on the lounge and bade George run to the village and bring his mother. The boy went as directed, but, instead of telling of the affair, remained with her until evening, when both parents and himself returned home. A light was struck, and a moment sufficed to reveal the sad sight. Stretched upon the lounge lay the ghastly corpse of the babe, the terrible wound in its throat filled with clotted blood, while its clothes were completely saturated. Crouchingia the comer was the wounded girl, who had prepared a rude bandage for herself, and for five hours she had borne indescribable pain from her wounds. Her face had so swollen r as to be scarcely recognizable, and she was hardly able to speak. The floor was covered with blood, and in the walls of the room were imbedded such portions of the charge as had not lodged in the victims. The boy acknowledged his guilt, and said he was only in fun, and did not mean to kill the children.

Those who desire to make their homes beautiful during the coming winter will now find many things in the woods which they can utilize. A month or more is yet given us for collecting the bits of color and graceful ferns which remain from the summer’s wealth. —. Foremost among the things which it is advisable to collect we would mention the ferns. Of course the green ones may be obtained at any season, bat in addition to these one can now find great tufts of umber, golden, yellow and tawny ferns. Some of the more delicate varieties will even be bleached oat white by the action of the weather and look like skeleton leaves. These contrast well with the others. All should be carefully pressed and dried before using. The grasses, which are even more attractive for winter use, require no special preparation; they dry of themselves. There is no limit to the variety and grace of these. Some hang in festoons of armpointed grains, some are like military pompons, some bearded or wooly, ana still others so delicate as to resemble smoke. In arranging a bouquet of grasses one is surprised to find how great is the range of color at his command. Thfi tints are not as deep as in flowers, but they are quite as pleasing. The sedges, many of them, may be used in the same way as the grasses. Any one living in the country is familiar with the beauty of the clematis. The vines clamber over shrubbery or hang lianes from the trees and are feathery with the silky tails of the fruit. They make a beautiful wreath about pic tures or mirrors. The common greenbriar, or wild smilax, has bright, shining leaves, often persistent through thewinter, and assuming beautiful bronze and purple and orange tints. It may be used like the clematis for garlands, and be relieved by its own blue berries or the scarlet ones of the so-called black alder. The white berries of the baneberiy strung on a crimson stem, the splendid coral clusters of the Jack-in-the-pulpit, and the hips of the rose are all to be collected. We should gather the everlastings of both kinds, and the bright green laurel leaves. Indeed, any of the tinted autumn leaves should be kept and used after pressing; but the laurel needs no care. It maybe used at once, and when it becomes old and unseemly it is always easy to replenish our vases. The mosses, lichens, and even sea-weeds are useful for very many purposes—as for the decoration of baskets, crosses, etc. Besides the pleasure of amassing material which is to be of use in winter and suggestive of the wdods, which we can no longer visit, is the delight of walking in these delightful days. Most persons do, not care to walk for the sake of the exercise merely, and if they can combine a useful and pleasant pursuit with walking they are much more apt to indulge in it. They can have no more delightful occupation than this which we have suggested.— W- W. Bailey, t» N. T . Independent. A negro of Baltimore has had a warning which, if it does not turn him from some ol the errors of bis way, ought at least to convey a wholesome lesson to others. He had been indulgingin strong drinks to excess and was enjoying a .cheerful attack of delirium tremens. One mprning he got out of bed and ascended to the roof to take an air-bath. Then he was seized with the delusion that the people in the street were trying to shoot him. To escape from them he jumped from house to house and ran along the combs of the roofs until the row of houses came to an end- He then dropped himself down a chimney out of the range of imaginary guns. He slid down the chimney until he became firmly wedged above a stove-pipe hole, and in that stove a fire had just keen built to cook breakfast. The negro now became impressed with the idea that he had reached the infernal regions at last, and howled accordingly, it was necessary to chop a hole in the chimney to release him ■ "V- . ‘ y ’y; ; . ■ —Mr. Grass tried to commit suicide in St. Louis the other day but was caught iu the haynous attempt. ,

for a man, who could have found such an answer was sure to make his way in life. —N. T. Observer.

A Horrible Affair.

Winter Decorations.

NO. 11.