YOL. LIII. .< BTTHISU. - Mr blue-eyed pet with golden hair ia sitting on my JUM, And gases eagerly afar, Aoroeti the boaoh. beyond the bar, Where roll* the reatleaa eea She pate her little hand in mine. And laugh* with childish *Ue, , Te nee the foaaung hillowa a;lsah, Aa ah the shore they fiercely dash. Then glide baok silently. Wit while hhe lasfha eo eaarrtly, > My heaW le Car away ; f And as I leok upon the shore. Where loud and loug the breakers roar. My sad eoui eeenw to way : •* The eea I*like e hamen life ; It breaks upon the shore t>f tee with e rwaatieee aiight j j. !, And when the.goal t* Jaet in eight, l>ies to return no more. • "And ad along the shores of tHhe Pail many m wreck doth lie : '• The pan** of many a mad carouse, Of Wasted hopes and broken, vows, Of happy daps gone by." Yet. while I moss in mournful mood, 1 t . / And gare upon the s. a, ' My bins-eyed pet with golden hair, ' Whose heart has never known a care, 'h* bull sits upon ay kuee. Her head is resting on my breast— - Her wyes ta ahuuber deep ; . -■ His tans rough sea wheee breakers roar, And madly, fiercely lash tie shore, Has lulled my child to sleep Trust and Love. To morrow I am going to he married. I, who haw been set down as an old maid for an indefinite number of year*. The expect ed event creates quite a commotion in our liitiiflrtc quiet household. My mother says, "What can Ido without you?" And my dear father, whose dark hair begins to be sprinkled* with silver, aava mournfully, "I cannot spare my Caroline," though I think be is secretly pleased that his pet "Carry" is to have such a noble huslmnd after all. My roguish brother Tom goes about the iHiuaesaaging— TtiejSts nofooee. bowerer gray, but soon or late Mafl 9nd ajtne honest gander (or her mate. And I—all tikis seems very strange to me. I cannot realise it that the bridal dr<ws of mtowry Stain, with the gossamer veil and wreath of odange flowers, can be for plain Caroline Hudson. But the strangest of all ia, that I am to marry John Grant—John Grant whom I learned to love years ago, but ail thoughts of whom I strove to put far fnrm me. It is six years now since that morning in early summer, when we walked together through the green wood, the leaves stirred by a gentle wind, and the birds singing their morning songs. We were a little apart from the rest of our party, and when wt had leathered our hands full of wild flowers that were scattered in profusion at our feet, we set down upon a felled oak to wait for them. 1 was happy on that June morning, as I sat on that old tree by the JMt flfJoha Grant. while he wreathed the raids and blossoms and the green leafes of thertmihflg. COT volvuions among the braids .of my brown hair. We did not talk much that morning, and we bad sat in silence several momenta, when John suddenly said, "Caroline, I to U4l yon something." It was not •the Words that made my heart beat so and ha hioad xitsh to my cheeks and fore ■flad. for ww had knojm each other for a lOKft time, and he had often made a confi dant of me—but it was the low tone, full of jae w aad strange tenderness, that thrilled mp whole being. Ido not know, but per iians my voice trembled a little, as I said, "Weil, what is it, John f n "Cany, dear,'' hat the ntmcr was not finislied—just then £ the rest at the party made their appearance, and effectually made an end to all confi dential conversation. The Bert dqy John Grant left Tunbridge cm I—illi in which required his presence in nevoMtorc for several weeks. 1 did not sse him for some time after his return, and when he called at last, there was a some thing WBdefinaMe in his manner ; but yet a change, a restraint, which told me that those words once on his lips would not be * ojjokeß. \ ♦ Xoaths came and went, and again he left home ostensibly for business, bat it was ru mored that a beautiful young girl at Ferny Ooomhtm, whose acquaintance he had made, was the real cause of his frequent visits to Devonshire. -- In a Kttle while It was said, and upon good authority, that John Grant was en gaged to be marrisd to Maty Keating; and ft was also said that she was very young > and very beautiful. Never till then, till I knew he was to marry another, was the .se cret of my own heart revealed to me; Iwt • then I know how I had loved him—how all hope, all joy, all earthly happiness, was centered in him —even now I shudder when I think of that time, when life seemed such a heavy burden, and I longed for a time to lay it down in the grave; hut 1 could not; a thorny path opened before me, and I was to walk in it. John Grant returned to Tunbridge soon after his engagement, and in a few weeks Mary Keating came to Elm Wood, on a visit to his sister. Soon after her arrival I was invited to a party given during her star. I dreaded to go, and yet I could not v stay away ; bow plain I looked as 1 stood hafore my dressing glass that night, m a plain silk, with a few scarlet verbenas had said one* they contrasted well with my dark hair? I was early, and of all the girls jh the room Mary Keating was the most lovdy. Ido not wonder -loved you, Maay; vou were beautiful, t you came into the room, in a dress of light muslin, your golden curls falling over your sweet childish face, and your blue .eyes running over with happiness, and he—but T dared not look at bim long, for 1 was not very, strong. 1 In the course of the evening I was in troduced to her; and strange as it was, from that moment she seemed to cling to I i me. fibs was a child in aitlessness, and soon commenced tolkingof "John," asking if I knew him. etc. 4 'How strange he never mentioned you—he told me of so many of his friends. John—John," she called as he passed us, "why didnt you tell me •bout Miss Hudson?—you spoke of so ma ny others.* Our eyes met for an instant, and then I said pitying his embarassment, \ l fle has so many friends, it isn't at all flhgular that he should have forgotten one." But I knew then, as I do now that he had Just then, looking up, I saw in a mirror oppivute, the retleotion of our little group -^-and—John Grant. When I saw the con trast between Keating and myself, 1 forgave him, if 1 had not before. Not that I was so very plain—l do not think 1 was —but she was so beautiful, so confiding and loving, no #ue could help being charmed with her; and I could not blame him, for hl had always been a great admi rer of the beautiful. Mary Keating came to see me frequently wiiile site staid at his sister's, sometimes, not ofteu, aooompauiod by Jolin. It WAS ah autumn afternoon, full of clouds ami sunshine, whin she came to makf Wr fare well can: He whs with her wwtchlug her eveiy momen with loving pride; aiul yet it seemed to me that lie regarded her some what ash beautiful plaything, winding her yellow curia around hie Angers, and railing her pet names. We weut out Into the garden to gather some dowers; and as site ran about, laughing and talking, picking dowers, and wresting them in her hair, she seethed a lovely and bewitching, child. John had gradually lost his ocWtrained ana embarrassed manner when with me, and, excepting that we never approached, personalties in our couversation, our inter-! course was getting to be something as it once was. Our tastes in many things were •imilar. We had read and admired the ..same au thors, and upou most of the important sub jects connected with human life, our thoughts were alike. We were speaking of some-worker* had lately read, .and were quite interested in discussiug iU merrits, when Marv suddenly checked her happy play, and with a grave face, walked silent ly for a few moments at John's side. At last she said "You never talk in that way to me, John, but its because I don't know enough." "You kuow enough for me, dear, ' he answered; but she went on, "I shall be but a 'child wife.' Caroline would suit you much better.'' "Allowing you to be judge,'' I said laughingly, for I saw Juhu could uot answer readily. We said no more ou that subject, but I think John asked himself more than once that day, "Is Mary right ?" When Mary bade me "good-bye," that afternoon, she wouud her white arm around my neck and kissed me, saying in her gen tle voice, "Write to me often, Caroline, and teach me to be worthy of him." And she went out of the gate, through the hop garden, leaning on his arm, the warm au tumn sunlight falling on her golden hair, making her very beautiful. Soon after this John Grant left Elm wood and took a farm on his own account in the west of the Btate, adjoining that of old Mr. Keating. I seldom heard and never men tioned his name then. Mary wrote frequently to me during the winter; her letters were like herself, graceful and charming, full of love and confidence. She spoke much of John—"How proud she was #f him, what letters he wrote, so much bet ter than hers, and wasn't it strange he should love such a child as she was !" She went on writing in this way for several months ; but at length there was a change in her manner of speaking of John; it seemed as though she were not quite as happy been; she said she began to be du'd about ever knowing any more, amflWted that John wasgetting dis satisfied with her—generally ending her letters with- some anecdote about her favor ite cat or canary. It was not long after this, when she began to speak of her cousin "Harry Smi;h," who was so agreeable, and yet didn't know a bit more than she did. A month or two after this, I was not much surprised when she wrote that her engage ment with John Grant was broken by mu tual consent—"They were not at all suited to each other, and no doubt would both be happier,* 1 she said; for he knew so much and she so little. She concluded with a long account of her new black kitten Top sy, which seemed then to be the one ob ject which engrossed all her attention. Two years passed, and I seldom heard John Grant's name mentioned, and if I thought of him at all, 1 believed I had con quered my old attachment —my life flowed on quietly and serenely. One year ago— how well I remember the day—l was sit ting quietly reading in the fading light of an Octolier sky, when hearing a rustling among the leaves, that lay thick upon the gravel walk, I looked up and saw John Grant approaching the house. • | When he last was there, she was with him, but ke was alone now, and my heart's quick throbbing told me his errand. Was I weak and wanting in self-respect when, after he had told me all—told me that although he was fascinated with a beautiful and loving child, deep down in his heart had always lain a love for me. All my love came back to me, and with more confidence that 1 could have felt four years before I laid my hands in his, and said, "John Grant, I will be yours!" John has sold his farm at Ferny Coombes, and our new home is near Ashford, as the old house at Elm Wood was taken down to make room for the railway. "We neither of us expect to pass over our path of lite without meeting with occasional storms; but we place our trust in One who is both willing and able to assist those to remove them who put their hand cheerfully to tho work); and with us it will be both a work of trust and love. Silk Raining In the United States Parties in North Carolina have found it sufficiently profitably even with present drawbacks, to raise silk-worms and ship the cocoons to France. One gentleman in Ra leigh, Mr. E. Fasnach, has shipped two bales to Marseilles,each containing over 100 lbs. of choked cocoons. They have been sold at Marseilles for as high as 32 francs (or over $6) per kilogramme (not quite 2 1-2 lbs), and the freight from Raleigh to Marseilles did not exceed $3 per cwt. The cocoons were raised by the children of the family; and aside from the silk product, Mr. Fasnach also produced a number of eggs for which there is now a ready mar ket abroad at $3.50 to $4 per ounce of 26 grammes. Several other persons in diffe rent parts of the country have also reared sufficient cocoons to warrant New York brokers in offering from $1.50 to $2 per lb. for the same. When parties find it profi table to raise silk under these adverse cir cumstances, there can be no question as to the growth of the industry whenever a home market is furnished for the raw ma terial, and that when once it shall have been demonstrated that there can be offered and paid for cocoons some stated sum that will yet allow a fair profit on the reeling, the industry will be fairly established, and private capital will not be wanting to seek profitable investment therm." MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, J87!). Butchering Mountain Trout. Trout go up the Truck oe river iu Califor nia in schools of thousands towards their spawning beds. If unimpeded in their course they would separate into number less crystallite trout brooks and depositc their spawn far up the stream, out of reach of sawdust or fishermen. But just at the foot of the Sierra Nevada, in the" State of Nevada, close to the California line, is the Verdi dam. This dam has been constructed to supply a fine sawmill with water power, and great precaution was taken to arrange a suitable flshway at one end. The water is made to tlow over a sort of apron, or plank door, which has such a gradual in cline that any fish can ascend. This fish way is further improved by means of the rocks and earth of the river bank. There is a large pool or eddy just at the foot and lower side of the apron, where the fish col lect in great numbers to rest preparatory to making the dual leap, or struggle, which carries them over tue daui. The tishermen, however, fastened two or three heavy planks just along the upper edge of the apron, and so the trout And an impasaahle wall at the place where they should enter the reservoir aliove the dam. Thus the fish an- imprisoned. Such restless, impatient, struggling prisoners as are these mountain trout camiot be found elsewhere. They at tempt to leap over the main dam, only to IK; hurled hack by the falling water. They spring fully five feet in the air, and strike Hie maiu apron of the dam with territlc and frequently fatal force. They bruise their bodies and heads until oftentimes they die. They learn nothing from experience, hut continue to jump against the dam, until, worn out and nerveless, they drift, com pletely exhausted, into the eddies formed by the piers of the dam. One can watch for hours these poor, desparate things iu their brave struggles to get over the dam, without having a moment elapse in which some trout is not leaping through the air and against the dam. Generally from one to a dozen fish are visible at the same time. It is a grand but a pitiful sight to watch the great speckled beauties in their vain endeavors to get over the dam. But the pitiful merges into the horrible when one sees the merciless grabliooks let down into the struggling, quivering, exhausted masses of trout gathered in the eddies below the piers. By means of the short, unyielding rod, a succesion of quick upward jerks is given to the four hungry points of the grab hook. The water is full of foam from the cascade, and circles in blinding whirl around the pool. The fish are crazed and blinded by their fruitless, frantic leaps, and readily drift against the sharp, needle-like points of the barbed hooks. Once impaled, the struggle begins. The hook may have entered underneath the head, or the body, or it may have pierced the side or the fins, or the tail. At the first moment of its fright the startled fish dar.s away with a fury of strength that is marvelous. A large fish is almost ungovernable during the first frenzy of its death struggle. The fisher man's only plan is to lei the trout weary itself witll its maddened plunges. and leaps, and struggles, and then by a dextrous twitch lands it on the pier. More than half the time the fish makes some terrible hound and tears himself from the hook, on ly to tioat with the current, torn, mangled, and dying. Olllae a Moose. It was a most lovely evening. It wanted but about half an hour to sundown, and all was perfectly still. There was not the slightest sound of anything moving in the forest except that of the unfrequent flight of a moose bird close by. And so I sat watching that most glorious transformation scene—the change of day into night; saw the great sun sink slowly down behind the piue trees; saw the few clouds that hovered motionless above me blaze into the color of bright burnished gold; saw the whole at mosphere become glorious with a soft yel low light, gradually dying out as the night crept on, till only in the western sky there lingered a faint glow fading into a pale, cold apple-green, against which the pines stood oat as black as midnight and as sharply defined as though cut out of steel. As tlie darkness deepened a young crescent moon shone out pale and e'ear, with a glit tering star a little below the lower horn, and above her another star of lesser magni tude. It looked as though a supernatural jewel—a heavenly pendant, two great dia mond solitaires and a diamond crescent — were hanging in the western sky. After a while the moon, too, sank behind the trees, and darkness fell upon the earth. I know of nothing more enchanting than a perfect ly calm and silent autumnal sunset in the woods unless It be the sunrise, which to my mind is more lovely still. Sunset is beauti ful, but sad; sunrise is equally beautiful, and full of life, happiness and hope. I love to watch the stars begin to fade, to see the first faint white light clear up the dark ness of the eastern sky, and gradually deepen inte the glorious coloring that her alds the approaching sun. 1 love to see nature awake shuddering, as she always does, and arouse herself into active, busy life, to note the insects, birds and beasts shake off slumlcr and set about their daily tasks. Still the sunset is inexpressibly lovely, and I do not envy the condition and frame of mind of a man who cannot be as nearly happy as man can be, when he is lying •comfortably on a luxurious and soft couch, gazing in perfect peace on the glor ious scene around him, rejoicing all his seuses, and saturating himself with the wonderful beauties of a Northern sunset. Bo 1 sat quietly below, while the Indian calk d from the tree-top. Not a sound an swered to the three or four long-drawn-out notes with which he hoped to lure the bull; after a long interval he called again, but the same perfect, utter silence reigned in the woods, a silence broken only by the melan choly hooting of an owl, or the imaginary noises that filled my head. It is extraor dinary how small noises become magnified when the ear is kept at a great tension for any length of time, and how the head be comes filled with all kinds of fictitious sounds; and it is very remarkable also how utterly impossible it is to distinguish be tween a loud noise uttered at a distance and a scarcely audible sound close by After listening very intently amidst the profound silence of a quiet night in the forest for an hour or so the head becomes so surcharged with blood, owing, I presume, to all the faculties being concentrated on a single sense, that one seems to hear distant voices, the ringing of bells and all kinds of strange and impossible noises. A man becomes so nervously alive to the slightest disturbance of the almost awful silence of a still night in the woods that the faintest sound—the crackling of a minute twig or the fall of a loaf, even at a great distance—will make him almost jump out of his skin. He is also apt to make the most ludicrous mis takes. Toward morning, alwut daybreak, I have frequently mistaken the first faint buzz of some minute fly, within a foot or so of my ear, for the call of a moose two or throe miles off. Al>ouf ten o'clock the Indian gave It up in despair and came down the tree; we rolled ourselves up in oar ruga, pulled the hoods of our blanket coats over our heads, and went to sleep. I awoke literally shak ing with cold. It was still the dead of night; and the stars were shining with in tense brilliancy, to my great disappoint ment, for I was in hopes of seeing the tirst streaks of dawn. It was freezing very hard, far too hard for me to think of going to sleep again. So 1 roused the Indian and suggested that he should try another call or two. Accordingly we stole down to the edge of the little point of wood in which we had ensconced ourselves, and in a few minutes the forest was re-echoing the plaintive notes of the moose. Not an an swer, not a sound —utter silence, as if all the world were dead, broken suddenly ant horribly by a yell that made the blood cur dle in one's veins. It was the long, quav ering, human, but unearthly scream of a loon on the distant lake. After what seemed to me many hours, but what was in reality but a short time, the first indications of dawn revealed themselves in the rising of the morning star, and the slightest possible paling in the eastern sky. The cold grew almost unbearable. Thai curious shiver that runs through nature —the first |py cur rent of air that precedes the day—chilled us to the bones. I rolled myself up in my blanket and lighted a pipe, trying to retain what little caloric remained in my body, while the Indian again ascended the tree. By the time he had called twice it was gruy dawn. Birds were beginning to move about, and busy squirrels to look out for | their breakfast of pine.buds. I sat listen ing intently, and watching the blauk emo tionless face of the Indian as he gazed around him, when suddenly I saw his coun tenance blaze up with vivid excitement. His eyes seemed to start from his head, his muscles twitched, his face glowed, he seemed transformed in a moment into a different being. At the same time he began with the utmost celerity, but with extreme caution to descend to the ground lie mo tioned to me not to make any noise, ami whispered that a moose was coining across the barren and must be close by. Grasp ing my rifle, we crawled carefully tluough the grass, crisp and noisy with frost, down to the edge of our island of wofsls, and there, after peering cautiously around some stunted juniper bushes, I saw standing, about sixty yards off, a bull moo*'. He looked gigantic in the thin morning mist which was beginning to drift up from the surface of the barren. Great volumes of steam issued from liis nostrils, and his whole aspect, looming in the fog, was vast and almost terrific. He stood there per fectly motionless, staring at the s|>ot from which he liadheaor'ibr crv of the syi>iosed cow, irresolute whether to come On or hot The Indian was anxious to bring liim a lit tle closer, but I did not wish to run the risk of scaring him, and so, taking aim as fairly as I could, considering I was shaking ail over with cold, 1 fired and struck him lx hind the shoulder. He jumped forward on his knees, jumped up, rushed forward for i about two hundred yards, and then fell dead at the edge of the heavy timber on the far side of the barren. Taking the Rdge Off. Recently a sort of slouchy-looking hun gry-eyed, cadaverous fellow stepped into a restaurant and said he wanted a cup of coffee and a piece of bread and butter. The waiter told him that the place sold nothing short of a complete dinner, and the price was fifty cents. Said the stranger, "Well, you see, 1 ain't real hungry, and I only want a little coffee and a bit of bread " Waiter—"lt makes no difference; we sell a whole dinuer for fifty cents, and noth ing else." Stranger—"You give a hull dinner for fifty cents ?" Waiter—"Yes, a whole dinner; mast meat, potatoes, succotash, bread, butter, pie, pudding, coffee and tea" Stranger—"Well, I s'pose you give a man all he wants to eat?" Waiter— 4t Oh, yes; we fill you up for 50 cents, and give you a solid, good, plain meal." Stranger—"Well, I've lialf a mind to eat with ye. The fact is the ole' womin give me a half a loaf of bread and a piece of corn beef for a bite, and I eat it up at Carpenter's just now with a glass of beer. I thought Fd like a cup of coffee and a lit tle bread and butter to kind o'er wash the thing down but ye say ye can't gim'e that?" Waiter—"No sir. We'll give you, as I've said, a solid, square meal for fifty cents. You can eat as little or much as you please. Red Spider on Frult-Tree. Among the insect enemies of the fruit grower it is singular that no one has re ferred much to the spider. It is a small enemy to be sure, but one by no means to be sure, but one by no means to be despised. It makes up by its immense number for its diminutive appearance. They appear lar ger than those we find in greenhouses on roses, fuchsias, and other tender plants; but whether or not they are a different spe cies from these, are natives to the soil, or are introductions from some other parts, are questions which may perhaps interest the entomologist, but will hardly aid in the de struction of the foe. We suppose on large trees the labor would be too great to attempt any means for their eradication, but for young trees which are easily reached, it might be well worth while to keep them down. The popular receipt in garden books is to mix flour of sulphur in greasy water and then syringe with it, of course keeping the mouth of the syringe near the surface of the water while drawing up the liquid, as the oily and sulphury water floats only on top, and is drawn into the syringe only in that way. This greasy liquid causes the sulphur to adhere to the leaves, and it is said the red spider abandons these leaves in disgust. The hot dry atmosphere of our country is peculiarly favorable to the exis tence of the red spider; and when we know how great a pest it is to the fruit-growers under glass, it seems to us well worth look ing after him, when he undertakes to fast en on our fruit trees in the open air. Washington at Valley Vprge. i In the latter jmrt of the summer of 171M5, when his second term as President of the • United States hqd nearly expired, and he was about to retire to private life, Washing ton concluded to mio Valley Forge once ' ; morfl, the acetic of so mauv toils and slrug ; glcs. The particulars respecting this visit 1 an old farmer living near there at the time 1 related to his son, who made a record of ' i them. It was in tbd afternoon, he said, as he was engaged ploughing on lua farm in the vicinity of the encampment grounds I that he observed an elderly man of digni fied appearance on lioraehftnk, dressed in a i plain suit of black, accompanied by a j colored servant, ride to a place in the read j nearly opposite, when he alighted from his horse and came into the field and feordfafly 1 took his hand. He told him ho had called to make aotne inquiries concerning the own ers and occupants of the different places abcut there, and also in regard to the coun* try; the system 6t fanning practiced in 1 thai jiart rf the cotintry; the kinds of efrain j and vegetables raised; the time of sowing i aud planting; the best method of tilling the i ground, aud nlpneroua other questions se j lating' to agriculture. He alio made h. i quiries after certain familiea in the neigh borhood. As answers were given Ire noted them down in a book, the farmer informing him that he could not give as correct answers as he wished, for he had not lieen bronght i up to farming, and besides had only moved into the vicinity since the war, thought he had been in the army when it was encamp ed there. This gave a new turn to the con versation. The stranger informed him tliat he had been in the army and at the camp, and as he expected to leave the city in a few mouths, with the prospect of never re turning, he had oken this journey to visit the place which bad been the soene of so much suffering and distress, and see how far the inhabitants had recovered from its effects. On being informed that bis name was George Washington he told him that his appearance was so changed that he did , not recognize him, or else he would have paid more resjiect to his late commander and uow the chief magistrate of the nation. He replied that to tee the people happyj and the desolate fields recovering from the disasters they had experienced, and to meet with any of his old companions now peace ably engaged in the most useful of all em ployments afforded him more satisfaction than all the homage that could be paid to his person or station, lie then said that pressing engagements rendered it necessary for him to be in the city tliat night, and taking him by the hand lde him an affec tionate farewell, and this was Washington's last visit to Valley Forge. lowa Ksttlokw. . "I see," said Judge Smith Acker, as he mopped his liald head witb a red and black silk handkerchief, "that some papers do vote a good deal of space to snake stories. It's a good plan, for people like to read about snakes. There is a curious fascina tion aliout the creatures, whether in tlve or in print. -Xow. I Ugve had so Die experience with snakes, principally rattle snakes, and it was not in Pike county, Pa., either. lowa used to be no bad place for snakes, aud I'll tell you a little experience 1 had one summer and fali, a good many years ago, in lowa. I went out to Milleray, late in August, to shoot prairie chickens. Ten or twelve miles from Dubujue is a regular young Ireland. The towns are called Garryoweu, and Terry, and Bally clough, aud Milleray. The people are, most of them, Irish, and in Milleray there is a big monastery, where an Irish order of the monks of La Trappe have a oolony. They own thousands of acres of land, and arc receiving as inmates or 'Brothers,' as they call them, a great many of the young men around there. Well, to get back to my snakes. I went out to shoot chickens and put up at the Twelve-mile house. It was then a well-known inn, right on the road to Pike's Peak, and kept in good style by Lem Litton, a mighty good fellow. I remember he had a couple of pretty daugh ters and a bright son, and 1 hear one of the girls has become a nun and the boy is a 'Brother.' Well—snakes? Oh, yes. It was iny first season there, and Litton said to me, 'Judge, you must look jut for snakes on the prarie. Wear boots always, keep your flask filled with whisky; and, look here : See this weed,' and he pointed to a small plant about ten inches high, of a pale green color, and evidently a species of cac tus, for the leaves were smooth, with little thorns on the edges. 'Tliat is the snake weed, and if a rattler does get his tooth in to you, just fill up with whisky, chew some of that weed, swallow the juice, and put the pulp on the bite. That'll fix you.' "Well, sir, I did And snakes, rattlesnakes, lots of 'em. My pointer usually let me know where they were, and sometimes they'd let me know by their shrill rattle. I'd seen snakes in Steuben coiinty, Ohio, spotted fe]jpws, but these were unlike any I'd seen, being almost perfectly black, not very large, but very active. 1 killed seven teen snakes and three chickens the first day I was out —not that the chickens weren't thick, but the snakes were thicker and at tracted more attention. "The next day, while working over a wheat stubble where a gang of men were shocking wiieat that had just been bound, I heard a yell. One of the irishmen had been bitten by a rattler that was under a sheaf of wheat, and had fastened in his arm as he picked it up. The poor fellow was soared to death 'most. 1 out with my flask (it held a plump pint), and he put it to his lips, and when he took it down it was empty. Then we started him on a run for the hotel. I looked for snake weed, but not a blade could I find. I believe that's usually the way—you can't find it when you want it. We got the man, whose name was Martin something or other, to the house, and there filled him up with more whisky. At first it didn't seem to affect him, and the arm kept swelling and got black. But by'mby Martin began to get happy; then he got hilarious; then fighting drunk, and final ly he fell off his chair, dead drunk. He was saved. The next day he was out with Ills arm in a sling, and I found him over in that same wheat stubble slowly walking around, and gazing intently at the ground. 'What are you looking for, Mart ?' I asked. He looked up, winked slyly, and drawled out: 'Faith, sur, Oi'm looking for the boit of a shnake.' I took the hint, and gave him a good swig of whisky, without putting him to the trouble of getting bitten by a rattlesnake in order to secure It. - "The children around there used to kill the snakes and pull off their rattles. By tying a thread around the centre of the rat tles, making a loop at each end of the thread, and twisting it slowly around the fingers, so that the thread would fub hard against the flesh, the rattles would vibrate and sound a remarkably natural manner. Iu the district school on the prairie there was a young woman Just from the east who was dreadfully afraid of snakes, and it was a cheerful habit of the young ones, when they wanted a holiday, to get out their rat tles behind their desks and set them whir ring. Why, they used to scare the life out of that poor girl, who would gather up her skirts and scoot for home at the first rattle. The little devils used to vary their perform ance and render it more realistic by leaving dead snakes around the school house, and giving it out that there was a nest under the floor. M; J Ju jars i fl : "There was a little Irishman, named Tom Olancey, who worked for Litton, and who had a reputation as a snake catcher. His plan was to pin the snake's head to the ground with a forked stick, then tp slip a loop over the head, fasten it to his stick, and thus drag bis captive, squttrihig, home. I wanted a live specimen of the timber fat ter, which is usually much larger than his prairie cousin, and, instead of being black, is orange and black, and a decidedly Wfeast. One day Tomnty succeeded In capturing a Dig yeflpw fa low, with fifteen rattles, and was drag ging hi nr home in high glee at the praspect df twffi I had offered Tor the reptile, when a fellow driving a breaking team as he I paused, struck the snake across the hack with his ten-foot ox-whip. Ypu know a light blow wiflkiil a rattier, and this blow killed Tommy's captive. W&i, ybu'd bet ter boliOvc that Irishman was mad. Whirl ing around, he lilted his stick, and, using the big snake for a lash, walloped the team ster lustily. At first the fellow returned the compliment with his ok-goad, but when he. felt that elanuay snake flap around his face and neck once or twice his nerve went back on him, and be turned and ran, pur sued by the little Irishman, who whipped him with the rattler as long as his breath held out Tommy afterward caught me another big snake, but not so big as the i first, and I had liad the pleasure of bring-, ing him east and presenting him to my brotuer-in-law, who has h weakness for that sort of pet.''| "Dead Dress." ' '■*' *' * --!'■*" rydiaun i.! The Irish peasantry are very oareful to make due preparations for death, partic ularly to provide theh last garments or "death dress." This care weighs -fery. much upon the invalid, who frequently or ders those in attendance to take the shroud out of the box where it haglain in readiness and air it properly. The writer has more than once heard this command given while visiting the sick in County Donegal That the 4 'dead dress" is the cause of solicitude 1 to the people of Imogen's county even in an other state of hang, the following anecdote will show: Two oH women lived at Castle Pook, a rambling old place, oaoe magnifi cent, and the scene of wild revelry so long as its owners had anything to squander. Hut the spendthrift landlords were dead had gone, and of the Dennis family only two memitem, an. aunt and an niece, re mained, they were called the 4 'ladies'' by their poor neighbors, and were greatly ( looked up to on account of their ancient name; hut they had not had any better ed ucation than that which a village school master could give fifty years ago. The el der Miss Dennis bed a small annunity, and it was no wonder that Miss Honor was al most crushed by grief and anxiety when she became very iU, and was given up f>y the doctor. 4 'Come hern, Honor," whispered the dy ing woman, from her pillow. "There's ten pounds in the box; you'll have that, an' my clothes an' the furniture, an' you'll be sure to wake me decent, and put my fine linen nightgown wid the frills on me. Bring it out to let me see if it's all right." Miss Honor promised to obey, but miser liness overcame her, and she grudged the corpse so fine a dress. She happened to liave some black calico covered with white spots, which she had bought at a great bar gain from a country peddler, and she made the shroud of it, intending to turn the frilled nightgown into money at some fu ture time. The villagers from Clopook who came to the wake wondered at Miss Dennis' "dead dress," but nothing was said against it. The funeral took place; and now began a dreadful visitation for Miss Honor. As regularly as darkness fell, Miss Dennis ap peared in her black and white shroud at her neioe's fireside, She pointed to her dress, and never spoke a word. Miss Ho nor could not bear it. On the third night the cofiin was taken tip and opened, and the frilled nightgown puts upon its tenant instead of the black and white shroud. The ghost was now appeased; she did not again appear. Food at Saratoga. At Meyer's and Moon's on the lake, they are famous for game dinners. A regular game dinner for one, without wine, costs $5, and with wine it often runs up to sl2 and sls, and even S2O. The $5 game din ner consists of five courses. Soup, black bass and stewed potatoes,chicken, partridge and fried potatoes, woodcock and salad, and ending with coffee. A plain game dinner of black bass and stewed potatoes, and woodcliuck and fried potatoes, costs, without wine, $4. The $26 dinners that Pierre Lorillard, Belmont and Traverse take are produced by an indiscriminate slaughter of Joliannisberger, champagne, old Burgundy and dollar cigars. The Sara toga black bass are caught early in the morning in deep water. They weigh from a pound to a pound and a half. They are very juicy and delicious. No one ever touches brook trout in Saratoga after hav ing been once spoiled by eating black bass. Mr. Belmont says the Saratoga black bass are the best fish in the world. We have, also, what is called the Saratoga white bait, which really tastes better than the white bait caught at Manliattan Befteh. Saratoga white bait are produced thus: Sunfish an inch and a half and tvyo inches long are caught in shallow water. They arff placed in salt water which causes them to disgorge their entrails. Then they are fried whole in butter. Saratoga white bait are an im provement on the genuine article. * The Weight of Woods, The woods which are heavier than water are Dutch box, Indian cedar, ebony, lig numvitse, mahogany, heart of oak, pome granite, vine. Lignumvitae is one-third heavier, pomegranate rather more. On the other hand cork, having a specific gravity of .24, and poplar of .83, are the lightest wood products. 1 ' y.\ .i'W'.KA. Ha'l NO. 31. . • >-—■ - ,rri r sn iv> i f A Hlgh-Prteod SMataka. j Two miners sat dowa in a "wilderness of ' southern Utah, a few months since, *to ' munch their bread and theii fiuttue .their 1 wanderings and their search for weath. 1 They "prospectors * who, having left, the beaten track of pleasure weakens, wan dered oft, to thejAßiistmaqftrof their fel • lows, Into the comparatively level country, where months 01 MMIIMUg 111U WVUBfed tain country, .fait t saidtfi " pard." > As he spoke his tool struck something a few inches under the sand, and the, pros pector found a fracture on the rocks and picked up a snaajl yel]ow piece of stone. "What's that?" said Tom, as he saw with what feverish earnestness hti "ptfrd " examined the place. • .1 v.* •' < > " Egad ! I Hunk it's born silver! " They were out of provisions and clothes; they had not means with Which to pay the fee for securing their' "find.*' After open ing up their pmttiK£kttttfsto show that a vein of ore .eawatedv it tft Mr. Ben Morgan, of Pittsburg, who is operating smelting works a fpw miles below Salt Lake City, for ffUJIHW. 7k Mr. Morgan sought the sdvfo© of the Superintendent of the Ontario Mine. Together they carefully ex - amined the new "find," and, unfortunately -for the genial Ben, they decided it was not worth risking ttie money on. *i&is miners continued to open their vein, but soon again were stranded, when otA of them wrote to two Irish friends, who had already lost money on supposed *' finds," ahd besought them to try their luck once more- After much importunity they invested enough I money to give the miners a good Mart, when ' the development of the mine proceeded rapidly. Four shafts were suhk and a number of intermediate galleries run which connected the shafts. The work was pushed solely with a view to show of the deposit.. It was the marvel of the whole country. Conservative old engineers measured the ore beds actually fn sight, taking nothing for granted, and made nu merous analyses In all parts of the mine to determine its richness, and the most cau s27^ol^,ooo^ prize, secured an option of one-half inter est for $2,500,000 for m short time, and hastening eastward he induced/* number of Englishmen in New York to invest and they took it at this price, the fbh# original own- ers declining to sell the remaining* half at any price, This is now Uie famous "Awn Silver Mia©" 4 Or '*fteWßonan^*'iurbttnd which a town lisoii afew months clustered called " Frisco,' ; and to which one mine the Utah Southern railroad will this sum mer be extended nearly hundred miles. ' a fc—i n . 1 t ftjn ■ Imagination cm tip, W>thr, ;)( i A. citizen doing business on Griswold street, Detroit, has given this weather question a great deal of and re cently he began a series of experimen s -to ascertain whether imagination hasn't as much to do with a hot day as a thermo meter. At 9 o'clock in the morning he en tered his office, built a brisk fire in the stove, closed the door, and sat down to his newspaper, having his chair close to the stove. In a few minutes one of his cus tomers opened the door, and before he could express his surprise the official called out: t "Come in i What change in the weather since last night! I hated to buOd a fire, but it was positively like November id here. Come over by the stove." * 4 'Has—has the weather chinged?" hesi tatingly inquired the caller. "Changed! Why there's a difference of 81 degrees since 10 o'clock last bight! Hear what the weather report says: Northerly winds, great change In temperature, with indications of a severe frost at might! I wish I had brought down my spring over coat " "Well, I felt the change, but I didn't realise the full power of it," said the otoer as he edged over to the stove and nibbed his hands. "You should watch these things and dress accordingly. I wouldn't dare come out in that thin coaL First you know you'll have a chill." "I—l know Tm rather careless, hut I must look out for myself in the future. This fire feels rather good. " } f "Yes, it does; you'd better get thor oughly warmed up before you go out in the raw air." The caller remained there at least 10 min utes, all the time standing beside the hot stove and yet when the thermometer marked 100 degrees he made no complaints and went out saying that he would go home and get on a thicker coat. They All Lifted. Several brethren were sitting til a Sooth street store, and somehow got to talking about lifting weights. { "1 lifted a barrel once," said a lean man in the corner, "that weighed over 200 pounds. None of the rest seemeu to care a bit about what he had Iff ted. "And I," said a tall, lanky man sitting on a bag of corn, "I lifted a woman once who weighed over 500 pounds. She was geing to faint, but I caught her." The proprietor of the store opened his eyes a little and looked at the mpn, but no further interest was displayed. "When I was down at Sandy," said a small, fat man, M 1 carried off a ton of ore to the care." ' Several of the men shifted their positions at this big one, and the proprietor looked cautiously out of the window to see if any body was listening. The last man, who was fitting with his feet dangling down in a box of eggs—an awful small man—who looked as if one waft of wind would finish him, at last spoke: "I suppose you remember when the Walker House was building. Well, one morning the boss came to me and said, 'Jimmie, there is something the matter with the back foundation of the hotel; get under and see what it is.' I got under, and the two men lifted the hotel off its founda tion, and the fabric came down on me.* Silence fell upon the crowd and tjbe men passed out one by one; the proprietor heaved a sigh, wiped away a tear, and went up to Jinuny and said: "Jimmy, you may have recovered from it, bu,t you must remember our church is full of liars, and you, in your commendable zeal to eclipse them all, may be 'fte.busy batching monsters when Gabriel Wows his golden horn that you will forget tol buy your ticket. Take something for your brui sea, Jimmi, and leave thte big ones for Brother Cannon." n . <j- .
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers