Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1875 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. JAMES A HEALEY, Proprietors. RENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

LET US TRY TO BE HAPPY. Let us try to be happy! We may, if we will, Find some pleasures in life to o’erbalance the ill; There never was an evil, if well understood, But that, rightly managed, would turn to a good. If we were but as ready to look to the light As we are to sit moping because it is night. We should own it a truth, both in word and in deed, That who tries to be happy is sure to succeed. Let us try to be happy! Some shades of regret Are sure to hang around, which we cannot forget; There are times when the lightest of spirits must bow, And the sunniest face wear a cloud on its brow; We must never bid feelings, the purest and best, Lie blunted and cold in our bosom at rest; But the deeper our own griefs the greater our need To try to be happy, lest other hearts bleed. Let us try to be happy! It is not for long We shall cheer on each other with counsel or song; If we make the best of our time that we may. There is much we can do to enliven the way; Let us only in earnestness each do our best, Before God and our conscience, and trust for the rest, Still taking this truth both in word and in deed, That who tries to be happy is sure to succeed.

THE BRIDE FROM DUCKPORT.

“ Are you happy, darling ?’ ’ inquired the bridegroom, after the manner of all bridegrooms. “ Veyy happy,” replied the bride with a sigh of satisfaction, glancing shyly at the world from beneath silky lashes, and claiming universal interest by reason of her modesty. “ Let us behave like an old married couple,” she added, demurely. But the fact that a very recent wedding had taken place in Duckport could ho more be concealed from the most casual observer than the pink flush in the bride’s cheeks or the roses and white ribbons of her bonnet. Was not the cup of Mrs. John Scudder, nee Blanchard, the deacon’s only daughter, filled to the brim with sparkling happiness? She had married the man of her choice, handsome John Scudder, with the military bearing which made him the admiration of all the girls. Nay, more: the inheritance of the store where Grandfather Scudder had spent so many years behind a desk in an atmosphere composed of red flannel, cheese and herring had converted John into a match equal to the deacon’s ambition for his child. To get married and visit New York on a bridal tour might well limit the aspirations of any young lady; therefore the new Mrs. Scudder signed with infinite content, only half wishing that John’s attire was not so excessively elegant, and that he did not wear the shiny silk hat with such defiant recklessness of results. Travel brings discontent in the very increase of knowledge. Our bride had not journeyed six hours before a pang of doubt assailed her as to the skill of the village dressmaker in her art; for at each station she beheld a different style, until she was wholly robbed of the complacency with which she had set out. Thus did she permit herself to be crushed by that Juggernaut car of fashion beneath which so many women of the land prostrate themselves. At last New York was reached, and the pair sought the Cosmopolitan Hotel. A marble palace received them; sumptuous drawing-rooms and corridors opened before them; French waiters flew at their bidding to obtain hitherto untasted dishes; and the little bride beheld herself reflected in so many mirrors that she was dazzled by her own image. Her interest in everything reconciled her to John’s departure on business. The young husband, assuming the dignity of authority, said: “ I may be detained until late, or even all night. Y’ou must not go out alone, as you will lose your way.” *• Kitty pouted, the day was so fine. However, she promised. From subsequent information imparted to friends at home it would appear that she spent the morning exploring the hotel, ascending to giddy heights in the elevator, and then takings base advantage of a back staircase to penetrate the mysteries of kitchen and laundry. Kitty received two indelible impressions in these lower regions. The first was produced by a small Greenland ol a refrigerator, where blocks of pellucid ice formed a grotto of delicious coolness. In hot weather Duckport suspended the butter,, in a tin pail, down the well. The second was the apparition of a French chef, in cap and apron, intrenched among copper sauce-pans and surrounded by anxious menials, who tasted a gravy, shook his head, and gazed at the ceiling for inspiration. The great man’s eye fell on the intruder, and she fled. “ The idea of a grown man spending his life cooking!” she said, indignantly, on the stairs.

Later in the afternoon she decided to find -a friend in the suburbs, somewhat as Ginevra played the prank of hiding. Why not? She was not a baby. A policeman directed her to take the first chr on a certain' route, and the first car being green instead of red—contrary to the policeman’s reckoning—she was carried up-town, miles away from the ferry she intended to cross. The car was very dirty, with an all-pervading odor of pestilence. A market-basket rested on her best dress, with the legs of ancient fowls protruding, owned by stout Mrs. Flaherty, while Mre. Malony, opposite, carried home the “wash.” Both ladies were fully aware of their rights. “ Are we near Mudflat Ferry?” asked Kitty, doubtfully. The conductor checked the car, declared his intention of not seeking any ferry, pointed out another route grimly and left her to make the best of it on the curb-stone. She went through the street indicated, considerably alarmed by the demonstrations of the inhabitants, who lounged on doer-steps mid strolled about gutters in search of amusement. This diversion she afforded them, and she was forced to run the gantlet of frank criticism, especially from upper windows, where lolled untidy foreign ladies. The second car was a shade dirtier than the first. Gas was beginning to flare in the hot streets. How gladly would she return to the hotel did she know the wav! Terror reached a chniax with the sudden influx of a crowd of rough, coarse men and tawdry women. If she had only minded John! In these creatures she recognized the burglars by daylight of her dreams, the desperadoes who revel in bloodshed and mock at justice. She was not, in tie best company. Instinctively she closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance. '

The nten evinced jocose familiarity, the women a hard cruelty and resentment, as if they saw a violet growing far above their abyss. Matters were becoming serious. ' A bottle having circulated with visible effect on the spirits of the company it was presented insolently to Kitty, who rose to her feet, received a rude push and was relieved of her purse. Ah, port of safety! Mudflat Ferry loomed through the gathering darkaess. To her dismay the noisy persecutors followed, fairly driving her from thecabin. The low shore opposite seemed deserted.' She discovered only vacant «coalyards and shipping, wjth horrible lurking places in shadow, and tlie group approaching through the gates of the ferry-house. The poor little wanderer fled, pursued by derisive laughter, until she reached a low, broad house on the water’s edge, which bore on a signboard the “ Lamb.” A brick walk bordered with ancient box led up to the sloping stoop, where an old man stood in the door, which was painted green and divided in two halves. He was weather-bronzed arid berit, but his face, having carried the impress of honest good nature for eighty years, did not fail Kitty, who, choosing between two evils, approached timidly. The proprietor of the. “Lamb” (now far advanced in muttonhood) welcomed her, and summoned his wife, a hearty dame in a crimped cap. They could not send her home, but she might remain all night. Seated on the back porch with his pipe as the evening shadows shrouded the harbor and the great steamers surged past, gemmed with red and blue lights, the old man told Kitty of the days when the giant city over yonder was a mere infant. He had kept the tavern for forty years, since the time when green turf bordered the river and lofty trees had no warning of progress. The stubborn old “ Lamb” had not yielded an inch, although the quiet of its youth was disturbed by iron-tongued machinery. The box hedge grew trimly erect;the trumpet-vines clung to the timestained walls; twin Lombardy poplars guarded the gate as in the days when the wind came'laden only with the sweetness of clover fields. The Ixiys who used to frequent the “ Lamb” of summer evenings to bathe and refresh themselves with spruce beer and “ bolivars” (the gingerbread ancestor of the modern .“roundheart”) had grown to be care-worn men, had even sunk into quiet graves, while he sat smoking his pipe. Every eddy in the current, every inlet of the neighboring shores, was familiar to him; and his prime boasted honest yawls instead of modern light, cockle-shell craft. Thus the past, older than his century, recalled the victories of the First Consul, the evacuation of the red-coats, the hero of New’ Orleans. In this inn on the water’s brink of Mudflat Ferry Kitty was a foreign element. If the Dutch family was the smooth surface of the rock, solia and durable, she was the sharp granite edge cut into many angles. Excitement robbed her of sleep, although she had not fallen among thieves. After she had retired to a large clean chamber, with a paper fire-board in the wide chimney and a faded portrait of a Flemish cavalier on the wall, she took her lamp to examine the painted tiles of the hearth, and leaned out of a window listening to the melancholy plash of the tide, in danger of being claimed by the last peril of that eventful day—fever and ague. John hastened back to the hotel, intending to surprise Kitty by his speedy return. The bird had flown. With wonder and alarm he made inquiries. No result. A bell-boy had seen her go out at half-past four. At eight o’clock he telegraphed to the friends in the suburbs. Kitty was not there. At nine he sought the police station, and intelligence of her disappearance flew all over town. At ten a frantic bridegroom paced the floor. At twelve he sat, with head buried in his hands, the picture of despair. Patient waiting seemed the only course. Next morning John, haggard with anxiety, stood in front of the hotel. A beau, tiful carriage lined with satin drew up. It was like the chariot of fairy tales, and a delicate lady was the occupant. “ She is not half as pretty as my Kitty,” groaned John. Just then an ancient and rusty chaise, draw n by a sorry gray horse, and driven by an old man, appeared. John sprang forward. Kitty sat in the chaise beside a beaming dame, who had made the journey to New’ York in the family vehicle of the Lamb Tavern. The whole Cosmopolitan Hotel might smile superciliously, but John shook hands cordially with the old couple, “ put up” the gray horse, and insisted on inviting them to •dinner. Later, the bride from DuckpOrt laid her head on his shoulder, and sobbed: “ Take me home—where 1 can’t get lost.” —Harper's Weekly.

The Wrong Man.

A London correspondent writes: The following little incident which happened the other day illustrates the necessity of providing more light in the carriages of the Metropolitan Underground Railroad. A gentleman had taken his seat in a sec-ond-class carriage which had already nine occupants. On the side opposite to him sat one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. She had entered the carriage accompanied by an elderly gentleman, who seated himself opposite to her, and whose attentions to the lady left little doubt that they stood to one another in the relation of husband and wife. The light was exceedingly dim when they started. At Victoria Station a boy, who sat next to the elderly gentleman, got out. In consequence of the departure of the boy there was a moving up of the tightly-wedged passengers on that side of the carriage, and the gentleman whom I first mentioned was thus brought right opposite to the lady whose beauty had already attracted his attention, and sat in the position originally occupied by her elderly companion. From Victoria to South Kensington they were left in total darkness, and this is what happened, in the words of the narrator: “A light little hand was laid on my shoulder; I felt a sweet, warm breath fan my face ;,a pair of the sottest, most perfect lips were pressed to mine with a delicious sensation which I cannot describe. Then a little hand slid down my arm, thrilling every nerve in my body, and finally deposited three lozenges in my hand. As we neared the lights of South Kensington Station the hand was withdrawn. May the gentleman on my left ever remaih in blissful ignorance of the mistake made by his better half in the darkness of that tunUel.” Let us echo that wish, and hope that the secret of three lozenges was never divulged. I confess that under .certain circumstances darkness has its advantages —that is to say if you are not traveling with your wife. *

TuEsaverage length of a farmer’s life is sixty-six years, that of a printer thirtythree years. Hence, a healthy farmer, who is inclined to be dishonest, may, by beginning early and enlisting all his en orgies in the work, succeed, in starving two printers to death.— Brunswiiker.

How Show-Bills Are Made.

Although the shu.w business was the first to make pictorial advertising a specialty it has come into extensive use in other lines, and blacking-manufacturers, stoyejiealers, etc., find the picture poster a good thing to shove their wares into public notice. Doubtless when the average citizen sees the bill-poster hang his banners on tire outer walls he sometimes feels curious as to how tlie'se specimens ot pictorial art are gotten up, and the Sunday Tribune will now gratify this curiosity. The sketching of the picture would naturally suggest itself as the first step of the process. One sketch, however, frequently answers for a number of purposes and the leading establishments keep in stock a large number of pictures from which selections can be made. As a general tiling shopmen and theatrical agents content themselves with a selection from among these stock designs, as special ones cost considerably more—One negro minstrel is as Hke to another as one huckleberry to another. All that is accessory to be done is to print the famous Box, Cox, or whatever the name may be, over the cut and the portraiture is complete. The feir damsels who warbib songs from the variety stages invest largely in these stock cuts, and it has thus happened that the same dead-wall has borne facsimile pictures labeled with different names. A fashionably-dressed lady leaning against an urn, or over a rustic gate in a thoughtful attitude, does for any play or any young lady, and the sameness of the modern melodrama is such that any line domestic tableau will do for almost every play. Negro and clown heads, and indeed nearly all kinds of minstrel, pantomime and variety cuts are kept in stock. Circuses always make it a point to keep getting fresh and novel cuts, and therefore order a great deal of special work, but even with themeuts of Indian life are frequently theready-made stock ones. A leading show’-printing house in this city has about 100 large pictures, affording their customers a wide range of choice in pictorial advertisement. One can get anything one wants, from a picture of an epizootic horse to a May-pole dance or an Indian hunt. We will suppose, however, that some enterprising manager has a brand-new play, and wants to get out a new and splendid lot of posters. The manager of the showprinting house talks things over with him, gets an idea of what scenes he wishes to be represented, and if portrait work is desired pictures of the actors and actresses are handed over. Next the artist comes into play. He makes sketches of the scenes desired, according to the specifications furnished, and these are altered and modified to suit the taste of the theater manager until the designs are approved. The preliminary sketches are ordinary small drawings, and are merely the miniature designs, the pictures furnished to the engraver being prepared quite differently. These the artist draws in black crayon, directly on the engraver’s wood, the same size as they are to be engraved. There are generally a number of blocks to the picture, and, when the drawing is made, the blocks are divided among the different workmen. In drawing the pictures, as a matter of course, they are reversed from the position they will appear in the printed copy, just as with type. The size of the blocks used in the engraving for show-printing is 28x42 inches. The wood used is a dry, soft pine, yielding easily to the engravers’ tools, and which, for such broad-like work as is necessary in show-printing, is much better than the hard box-wood used in fine woodcuts. A block is used for every color, so that, with the ordinary three-sheet fourcolor poster, tw’elve blocks are used. The only full engraving, however, is made on the blocks which are to take the outline color of the print technically called the “key” color, which is generally black. The faces and figures and outlines of the picture are done so as to make a good print in one color, the other blocks being used to introduce the others.

By way of illustration suppose it is desired to represent a lady standing by a seashore, and she is to Kave-on a yellow’ dress with white lace trimmings, a purplecolored overskirt, a red fan and neck-scarf, with green foliage and blue skies around. On the first set of blocks the outlines of the picture are engraved, and such parts as it is desired to have black are put in, as, for instance, the hair, eyes, feet and the shadows of the picture. In such portions of the picture where the colors are to be dark light lines are thrown across, wide spaces being dug out between. The next set of blocks, it will be supposed, are to introduce the red color. The engraver on this digs out all the portions of the picture that are-not to be printed in red. Across the face he will leave fine lines, thicker and closer on the , cheeks, with wide spaces between them, and across the overskirt throws heavier lines, while the fan and the neck-scarf will be left solid. Lines

are run into the sky wherever a sunset glory is to appear in the picture. The blocks for the yellow color are cut away in the same manner, the surface being permitted to remain only where yellow is to go. Yellow is the ground color of the green, so it goes over the foliage and other green portions of the picture. Lastly comes the blue, the block being cut so as to bring it over the yellow where green is to be made and over the black and red to make a purplish color. It will be seen that out of the four primary colors used others are obtained by their combination, and to the casual spectator a good showprint will appear to contain a great number of colors, when there are only four. The work is done to be looked at from a distance. Thus the narrow lines of red thrown across the face and hands of the figure appear as a flesh tint at the distance of the spectator. A. mass of black, blue and red lines appear as a purplish tint. The brownish tints on the trunks of the

trees on close inspection appear to be black and yellow lines with perhaps some red and blue thrown over the dark shades. As has been said, the green is but a mixture of blue and yellow. Fine lines make light shades of color, heavy and close lines make dark shades, and by combinations many shades and tints can be obtained. To look at the color-blocks as they leave the engraver’s hands there is no appearance of order or design. There is a tangle of scratchy lines here, and a patch of smooth surface there, while over the greater portion of the block the wood has been dug out to a slight depth btlow the surface. But in printing the lines and patches come to. the right places on the paper to make red lips, rosy cheeks and various colors of the dress of the lady, and all the adornments of the landscape. Printing from these blocks requires much greater care and is a much slower process than ordinary printing from metal type. Generally the blocks making up the picture are brought together to receive the last touches of the engraver. The engraving is worked over from one block to another, so as to prevent breaks, in lines and shades that might otherwise occur, and give the picture a checkered appearance. The picture, when occupying more

than one block, is not printed as a whole, but impressions are taken from the blocks separately and the sheets are put together by the bill-poster when he sticks them up. The blocks are printed on a press having a flat bed, which slides backward and forward under the rollers which impress the paper against the face of the cut. After a sheet has received one color it goes through the press with another set of blocks to receive another color, and so on until all the colors have been put on. About 700 sheets per hour is a good working rate for a chromatic press. As for each color there is a separate impression, an ordinary three-sheet, four-color poster, such as is used by theatrical agents, would require twelve impressions to make one whole picture. One office in this city has six Potter presses, which w’ere manufactured in New York expressly for printing show-bills in colors, and are said to be the most complete presses in existence.

Besides the four colors mentioned other tints are occasionally used in very fine work. Among these are brown, stonecolor and salmon color. Green ink is used for type work. Gold, silver and bronze are used sometimes in very fancy work but these are put in by hand. The places where they are to go are printed with a sizing fluid, and while the sheets are still -wet gold, silver or bronze dust, as the case may be, is brushed on with cotton batting. The different pigments used in the inks are mixed in a sort of varnish oil, and in the presses there is a series of rollers, the function of which is to apply the ink smoothly and evenly to the surface of the block. Colored inks cost from fifty cents to thirty-two dollars a pound, the latter being the price for fine carmine. The ink in 100 copiesofa three-sheet poster costs from fifteen to twenty dollars. On an average, a sheet in colors costs fifteen cents. The charge for posting is four cents a sheet, so that a three-sheet poster, when stuck up, represents an expenditure of fifty-seven cents. It is a common thing to see nine, twelve and even twenty-sheet posters out, so that each ofthe latter would represent a cost of $3.80.

The large type employed with the pictorial cuts are made from wood, maple, cheny and box being used. There is a large manufactory at Greenville, Conn., where they are made by machinery, and from this point the principal makes are obtained. They are worth from ten to fifteen cents up to seventy-two cents a letter for the most elaborate, and some of them are very beautiful. A different block for each color must be used, just as in the pictorial cuts. If, for instance, a red letter on a drab ground is desired, wooden type w’ith raised letters are used for the first printing, and type in which the letters are sunk so that the surrounding surface takes the color are next used. Ornamental borders and corners are made of wood, and some of the designs are exceedingly beautiful. They are used a good deal in getting up large illuminated price-lists, programmes, etc., and their imprint would be readily taken for lithographic work. They cost from $1.50 to $3 a foot. The smallest varieties of type are metal, as in small type that is. cheaper than wood.— Chicago Tribune.

RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL.

—Methodist discipline is well illustrated by the statement of Bishop Janes that out ofthe 10,000 preachers stationed by the Bishop the past year only three have declined to accept their appointinents, and not a single church rejected its preacher. —The intellectual activity now apparent in India is illustrated by the fact that in the Department of Oudh during the last quarter of 1874 the books published numbered seventy-one. They embraced religion, morals, language, law, medicine, etc. The largest was a work on history of 1,534 pages. —The Compulsory Education law of Connecticut is reported to be working satisfactorily, and, as the result of the various measures adopted for securing increased attendance, the proportion of children in the public schools has advanced from 80.38 per cent, in 1867-’6B to 89.34 per cent, in 1873-’74. The actual increase has been about 20,000, w’hile tlie increase in enumeration in the same time was about 10,000. —At the annual meeting of the New Jersey Baptist Association, held recently, the following report was made: The twenty-seven churches report thirty-one houses of worship, with an aggregate seating capacity of 11,702, and the total value of church property $315,300, oq which there is a total indebtedness of $51,373.48. Seven churches report no debt. There have been paid $11,982.50 on debts. Three churches report no houses of worship. The houses of worship will seat the whole membership and leave 6,423 seats for strangers. The total membership is <5,279. Baptisms, 439 during the past year.

—During the past three years the Chicago Young Men’s Christian Association have conducted religious services in the different hospitals of that city. The exercises have been held every Sabbath afternoon, the churches contributing their choirs to add to the interest. During the week the inmates are visited and supplied with magazines and suitable religious reading. Latterly there has arisen a demand for flowers and delicacies which the young men have undertaken to supply, and appeal to the charitable throughout the West to furnish them the means of doing so. They offer to pay all express charges and ask that all supplies, marked “ Hospital Work,” be sent to W. W. Vanarsdale, Superintendent Y. M. C. A. Rooms,.Arcade Court, Chicago. —The Presbytery of Holston, Tenn., have hit upon a plan of obviating the usual summer vacations of clergymen, which wfll be heartily indorsed by the laity. The plan is to send its clergy and as many of the laity.as can join them'upon a horseliatk excursion through the mountains of North Carolina. The clergy are to go two and two upon their mission, and to hold services wherever there is a prospect of a congregation, and they are to carry two days’ provisions with" them to be safe against hunger; and at a certain time the whole expedition is to meet upon a specified mountain to enjoy good-fellow-ship and to have a season of religious refreshing. This is but a variety of the old fashioned camp-meeting, and the Gospel on horseback is considered ah antidote to ennpi and dyspepsia.

—Richard B. Dowell, who shot himself through the brain at Knoxville, Tenn., a few days since, left on a table in the room where the deed was done a card on which the following was written in a bold, firm hand: “R. B. Dowel,! has suicided. The grave is a welcome hoine. God will take care of my boy. I leave thirty dollars to bury me with. Some men tnay say ‘crazy.’ Nary time!” . -a— These soaking rains do vegetation a world of good, but you Can’t make a man believe it when he is caught out without an umbrella.

Our Young Folks.

NELLY’S GRAND DINNER PARTY.

BY SARAH O. JEWETT.

I wonder if you remembei- a story, printed in St. Nicholas for last September, ciUled “My Friend the Housekeeper?” It was about a girl named Nelly Ashford, whose father had a playhouse built for her in the garden, which play-house was like a real hduse, only smaller, with a little entry-parlor and kitchen in it. This was Marigold House. It might have beeri better to have said in the first story that Nelly wished her house to have a name, and that it took a whole evening to make Choice of one. Finally Aunt Bessie happened to think that the housekeeper was very fond of marigolds, and that Mrs. Ashford had told the gardener to plant some under the windows and in the borders near by; so she said: “Suppose we call it Marigold House?” And this mime suited everybody. I think I must tell you about the day of the grand dinner part}’. Itri’aswhen Nelly had been at housekeeping several weeks. Mr. and Mrs. Ashford were away, and Miss Bessie had gone to spend the day with a friend, and on the way asked Edith and Mary Talbot, two nice girls, to go down to Marigold House to lunch. Alice Dennis was already there, of course; and, after they had ail been talking for a few minutes, making various plans for the work and enjoyment of the day, Alice said: “ I mean to have a dinner party instead of lunch; mamma said we might have what we pleased." Nelly’s guests were usually entertained in the kitchen on such an occasion as this and, indeed, would have felt defrauded if they had not been allowed to help with the cooking. Nelly looked in file closet to see what was needed, and then ran into the great house to get supplies from the cook. Nora was particularly good-natured and gave her potatoes to bake, some cold roast chicken and bread, filled her grocery-boxes and the big milk-pitcher, and then gave her some strawberries that had been left from breakfast; so my friend the housekeeper and one of the others had to make two voyages to carry everything out. It was a very busy morning. They made a plum-pudding of extra size and superior sweetness ana fruitiness, and stoned all the raisins for it, which they commonly omitted tp do. Then they undertook to make some soup. Alice had watched the cook at home do it Several times and was sure she knew how. 8o she and Edith went over to the vegetable garden, and came back with carrots, onions, beets and radishes, though she wasn’t quite sure the last-named two belonged with the rest. There must be some potatoes and meat and a little rice. The cook had used beefbones, she thought, but it was likely any meat would do as well; so our friends took some of the roast chicken and put it on to boil. Then each took a knife to slice the vegetables. Nobody wished to crit up the onions, for they make one’s eyes smart so dreadfully; so they chopped them a little oh the outside with a knife and dropped them in whole. The other things w’ere cut as fine as possible, and as fast as they were ready Alice stirred them in. There was a great deal of tasting done, but for some time there was no flavor, when they remembered it ought to have pepper ana salt, and it is not surprising that they got in altogether too much, so that it was worse than when it had no taste at all. Poor Mary Talbot had the bad luck to swallow a large lump of dry pepper which had not been stirred in, and so it seemed to her more highly seasoned than it did to the rest, and she said, as soon as she could speak: “Can’twe put more waterin’” This seemed to be a sensible idea, but the little kettle was already full, so they dipped half the soup out into the other kettle, and filled both up with water. The potatoes and the pudding were baking well, so they went into the parlor and enjoyed the society of the dolls for a season, then began to set the table and get readv for dinner.

“Now we must have some names,” said Nelly. “ I am going to be Queen Victoria, and you are great ladies come to dine with me.” It was finally decided that Alice should be the Princess of Wales; Edith, Mary Queen of Scots ; and Mary, the Empress Eugenie. And then, with great state and majesty, Queen Victoria went out to the kitchen to take up the soup. She was veiy sorry that she had no din-ner-set, for the tea-set was, in some respects, inconvenient, though she could manage well enough except in the question of a soup-tureen; but one Could easily pretend that the bright tin pan she was obliged to use was silver, and the only trouble about the saucers was that they were small and shallow; but, as it was a State banquet, there was no hurry dt all, so they could be filled often. The company were seated, and just ready to begin, when there was a loud ring at the door. “ Your Majesties will please excuse my leaving the table,” said Queen Victoria; “ but niv servants are all busy. I hope it is nobody coming to call; but I shall ask them into the kitchen, unless it is somebody very nice.” On the* door-step stood an odd-looking little old woman, with a big black bonnet, and a wide white cap-frill underneath and a pair of huge green spectacles. “How do you do, miss?” said she, with a sudden courtesy, which nearly made Nelly laugh; but she managed to say: “ I’m very well, thank you.” “ Wouldn’t ye take pity on a poor ould ooman as has to travel all the way. to Bostin by her lone self, an’ had nothin’ to ate since ’arly this mornin’, an’ her heart failin’ her intirely wid hunger? I can see it’s a fine, kind little shild ye are, by yer two blue little eyes; and sure, I’ll tell ye a fine story while ! rist mesilf.’’ “Won’t you please wait a minute?” said Nelly, and she ran in to ask the others what she had better do. “ She’s a clean old woman,” said our friend,and she says she will tell us a story. We have ever so much more dinner than we can eat,’’ adding,virtuously: “Mammanever wishes beggars to go away hungry, and she always tells me to be very kind and polite to poor people. I shouldn’t like to be hungry and tired if I were a poor old woman.”

Their Majesties thought it would be great fun, and Her Royal Highness ot Great Britain and Ireland turned to go out and ask the guest to come in, but first had the thoughtfulness to say that perhaps they had better not tell her who they were, as she might be frightened. “We have cooked most of the dinner ourselves,” said Nelly, “but we hope if is good, and, at any rate, there is chicken and bread and butter.’.’ “My heart! my heart!” said the old woman, as she came in at the door; “ and ain’t this the swate little house? Wouldn’t I like the mate to it to be restin’ me old bones in? and I wanderin’ about the highways, that might be grandmother to

all of yez. Och! but I had the tidy little house in ould Ireland, with my bit of a pi" in a pate sty forninst the door. Indade, miss, and the likes of me would niver make bould to sit down at the same table with yez. Give me a bit of bread in me hand.” “ Oh, no!” said Nelly, hospitably; “you can sit right here. I’ll move the dolls closer together. I’m glad you-happened to come to-day, for I have a better dinner than usual—there are five courses!” at which information the old woman looked rather blank. So the hostess explained that there were —first, soup and then chicken and potatoes, and next, plum-pudding, strawberries. and, lastly, “ little-biscuit” and milk. “May the saints preserve ye!” said the Kest. “My heart! and ain’t it the weary W day since I had a dinner like that?” and, without any more urging, she sat down at the table. ' Nelly thought as she was so hungry that she would like more soup at once than the saucers held, so she went to the kitchen and found a nice white pint bowl which the cook had lent her. She filled this with hot soup, and, remembering that Nora was fond of onions, she generously dipped out the two big ones that had been put in for flavoring, and carried it in triumphantly with both hands, the onions floating conspicuously on top. The beets, which had, unfortunately, been tailing longest, had given it a most uninviting color, and there were bits o carrots and raddish and turnip, not to speak of potatoes and chicken-bones. ‘ 1 Here is some nice hot soup for you, and I gave you all the onions,” said my friend the housekeeper, while the other guests looked on admiringly. The Irishwoman hesitated a minute, then tasted the undesirable-looking stew, but was instantly seized with a severe fit of coughing, and buried her face in her calico apron, while the children sat in great suspense, fearing she might choke. “ Wirra, wirra!” said she after awhile, “ but the pepper in it was near the death of me, and what would I dOand no praste near ? Bless your pretty hearts, it’s a fine soup; but I had a cough this tin years back, and the docther said mesilf could ate no bit of pepper at all, at all; and—well, I’m ’shamed to be turning away from yer kindness, but I’d best ate no more.” “It is strong of pepper,” said Alice, looking quite crest-fallen;” and it’s wry strong of those horrid onions! I wish we hadn’t put them in; but never mind, I shall know’ how exactly, next time.” The cold chicken was eaten by all the company with great satisfaction; the potatoes were baked just right, and the pudding was a grana success, for the old woman asked if she might make so bold as to ask for another piece, which compliment was graciously received. By the time the strawberries were served she was chattering in the most amusing way and seemed to have quite forgotten her weariness; in fact, the children thought her one of the most charming persons they had ever seen. Sometimes they could hardly sit in their chairs they laughed so hard. She praised everything extravagantly and told them proudly that she once cooked for a gentleman’s family, and if anybody knew a good dinner when she saw it it was Biddy Sullivan. And then she went on to tell a long story about her husband, one Larry Sullivan, who had been dead (“Hiven rist his soul!”) thirteen years come Christmas. The children were very sympathizing, and, after some further particulars of her life in the old country, she gave them their choice of two stories: “The Little Cakeen” or “ The Bad Son and the Good Son.”

“ Oh, I don’t want to hear the Cakeen story!” said Nelly. “ I’m so tired of that. I used to like it, and now Aunt Bessie tells it to tease me. I’ve heard the other one too, but I like that ever so much.” T. “ Whist, thin!” said Mrs. Biddy Sullivan. “ I likes the other best mesilf, an’ it having such a fine ind to it.” Then she drew a long breath, afterward putting her tongue out at the corner of her mouth in a meditative way, and then began. She had left the dinner-table, and was sitting with her back to the light, which she said hurt her eyes. She still wore her big green spectacles, and had refused to take off her big reddish cotton gloves. I believe I have not told you that she said she was going to Boston to have her eyes doctored, and had requested them to give her money. “ That’s a nice story,” said Edith, when the story was finished, and Nelly remarked that it was exactly the way that Aunt Bessie used to tell it. “I must be going now,” said the widow Sullivan. “ Bless your innocent hearts!” “Oh, I wish you could stay a little longer!” said Nelly. “My Aunt Bessiewill soon be home. She has lots of money, and I know she will give you some, so you needn’t walk to Boston.” But now, to their great astonishment, the guest laughed and pulled Nelly into her lap and kissed her, and taking off the big gloves threw them at Alice with a very small white hand; and next off came the green glasses and the bonnet, and there sat Miss Bessie herself! “Yoi\dear little geese!” said she. “I mustn’t cheat you any longer; but it has been such fun! I supposed you would find me out in the first ten minutes.” And then there was such a frolic! “ I came nearest laughing when you came in with that odd red soup with the big onions,” said Aunt Bessie, “ for you know I don’t like onions at all. And I was sure you would suspect when I asked if you would like to hear the Cakeen story. But the best part of it was that you were all so sweet and kind and lady-like, and did your very best to make a poor old woman comfortable. I couldn’t help feel- ‘ ing a little ashamed at being only a naugholder girl who was deceiving you. But 'll help you clear away the dinner if you like, and then we will have a drive.” “ Oh, darling Aunt Bessie! you meso funny!” said Nelly, and then they all laughed again. It began to rain, so they couldn’t go to drive; but Miss Bessie stayed at Marigold House all the afternoon, ana “ My Friend the Housekeeper” and her cronies had some capital fun.— St. Nicholas jor July.

A man wearing a nice “ plug” hat tvas arrested and incarcerated in the Providence (R. I.) lock-up, the other day, and was very- anxious that no one should know of his disgrace. After his release he was observed about town with his nice hat on, having upon it the tell-tale legend. “ This hat belongs to man in cell No. 17,” the officers having been very careful of his property, but having forgotten to remove the label. Eight hundred thousand - acres of Indian soil are now under jute cultivation, producing nearly 8,000,000 maunds of fiber, which ultimately takes the.form of gunny bags, and an enormous quantity of matting, twine and paper. Speaking of the round world, much can. be said on both sides.