VOK 1.111.
OKIT i WORD.
Ofelr a word ! a little winged word
Won a thr.wuii the hnaj town,
lighter than thistle down,
lagi'twr than duet by roving hoe or lard
fftwhod from the hkwaomuii; lily's golden
mars ;
Borne illt he*e and there.
Oft an the entnmer air
Ahoot aset>> doors the nunnt etiUtteee stirred.
(hit a word!
B* aharp. oh sharper than a two-edged sword
Tr p erre and eting and scar
The h. art whose peace a breath of blame oonld
Oahr a word, a tittle word that fell
i t) heeded as the dew
That fioaa the darkling bine
(M i saw r uidmgh; sofllT steals, to tell
las tale of etngnu; brook and star-hi doll
la yonder tx-ueoaa* street.
Wham, pais with dnsi and heat,
TV In tie w.adew flower ia workman's cell
Its drooping bell
Fphfts to greet the kias it knows so well ;
A word—a drop of dew !
Bat oh. its tcmeh oonld life's last hope renew.
The Captain's Daughter.
said I. •*ytwi shan't have him."
"(•h. pa!" said she. "but 1 love him so
—1 kw htm so dearly."
* **l don't care." said I, "A common
saikw like hiiu!" and then she bellowed
and wiped her eyes, as might have been ex
ported of a rirl.
My girl was a beauty, ami she was the
only *ne 1 had—the only one I ever hail—
and 1 owned a boat, ami 1 was known
< an a hen- as Captain Barker. of the Sam v
Jane, and all I had Jennie would have
aotne (lay; ami was it likely I'd give her to
Jack Rlazr. as he was liefore the uiast ?
No!
Well. I *-t my fool down, ami supposed
tbe girl w ould obey. But. lo ami behold !
w hat should I see <we day w hen I came
home from the river hut a couple of people
wuunng on my gate!
It was Jack Blaze and Jennie, and his
arm was ar.wmd her waist.
1 bolted in between Vm like a shell, ami
I <*derai Jennie to her room, and I ordered
Jack away, and I told hiiu what wouid
happen if 1 saw him swinging on my gate
again.
•*lf yon weren't her father, sir," said
Jack. "I'd nt W*ar such wonls from you;
hut, as :l is. and you're an old man—''
With that I fired a flower pot at him and
called him a confounded mutineer, ami he
sheered off.
••Jennie, " says I've done well by you—
your old father has done well by you, and
what have you done by him ? I've taught
you to play the piamaer, or had you taught
which is the same thing, and you've got
ooe. You dress ic silks, and I keep a ser
vant for you. and I've got you down m mv
will for all I shall leave, and how do you
use me ? While I'm away following the
water you mutiny. Now, I'm sorry to
IHinish you. I daren't leave you alone, and
I'll lock up the house and take you along
with me on my trips. The cabin is com
fortable and ymi'll not suffer, and if you
d-m't like it you shall lump it. Keeping
with a fellow like that! Ugh!"
'ffVm't be cross, papa," said Jennie.
*Td like to go, I'm sure. As for Jack,
lie's tbe lest fellow I know, and I'll keep
companv with no one else ; but if you
don't like it yet we'll wait."'
"Wait!" says I. "Wait ! \Nliy, if I
wanted you to marry, Jennie, there's the
captain of a steamer told me last week I'd
the prettiest daughter of any man he knew,
and that be was tired of single life. The
captain of a steamer, Jennie, think of that!"
**l don't btlieve he's as nice as Jack,"
said Jcnnia ; "and 1 love Jack.''
Then I shook her. I'm sorry to say I
shook her, and the next day I had her
trunk sent down to the boat and took her
under my arm to tbe same place.
Tbe cabin was good enough for a queen,
and tbe little stateroom a picture, and she
seemed to like it.
You'd have thought I was giving her a
treat instead of punishing her.
She used to sit out on deck all the fine
days, with knitting and sewing, or a book,
and she sang to me evenings.
But ah'* didn't give up. not even when
rie saw the captain—six feet three; hand
some as a picture.
No, slve stuck to Jack, and I stuck out
against him as stiff as she, and so we sailed
up and down the river, and Sumnwr went
and Autumn came, and Winter was a-com
ing but my girl was obstinate as ever.
It was my last trip.
All Win er, after the river was frozen,
the >mucy Jane lay at the dock.
"If you were a good, olvedieut girl," said
L, I shouldn't have locked you up; but as
it is I must.
So I kissed her—l was glad to rcmem!>er
afterward tlial I kissed her —and 1 vict
ualled the cabin, and locked the door and
put the key in my pocket, and off 1 went.
I had to go a distance out of town, and
there, when 1 settled my business, I dined,
and h was evening before I got back to the
Saucy Jane, or, rather, to Poplartown,
where she lay.
I thought *to myself, as I came down,
that I had never seen the place so busy, but
as I wared the dock. I saw that something
had happened.
Then was a crowd there, and people
were talking and shaking their heads, and
amnebow I couldn't we the smoke-stack of
the twucy Jane peer through the shadows
as I might, nor the red and green lights at
her liead. nor any sign of her, and a great
fear crept into my iieart, and I began to
shake and shiver.
"IT* only the fog,* said I; but there was
mi fog.
"It's dark." said L, but the darker it was
the brighter the lights would have shone
out.
Then all trembling and shaking like an
aid man—like my old grandfather, who had
the palsy, used to do, 1 remember thinking
—1 caught hold of a man who was passing
ing and mid:
"Ijook here, man, what's the matter ?
What's the crowd about ? What's hap
pened C
"It's the little steamlmat down there."
said the men; *the Saucy Jane. She's
been run into and sunk by a owl lvoat. She
went down in thirty minutes. The cap
tain was away they say, and the men went
<m a spree. * hily the cabin boy was there;
thy picked him up. You can just see her
nok<-ftack above the water. The rival
bmtf was hurt a bit, too. She's lying out
"Ob. my GodT saidl. "Mydaughter!"
Me MMM Aonrnul.
Then I didn't know what hup|u>ncd, but
I found myself in the doctor's ship pretty
soon and a crowd about mo, uud board
some one saying softly :
4 *ll is daughter was aboard. Slui went
down with the Imat—"
"1 locked her in" said I. "Wretched
; old brut* that 1 am! 1 locked her in that
cahiu; I murdered her—l, her father! The
door was locked and the windows small,
and 1 locked her in to drown like a rat !"
Tnen I went off again, and it was all a
horrible dream, until 1 awoke to flml it was
night, ami 1 was alone in lied, and 1 saw a
man sitting beside me.
"Who is this f" i asked, not recognizing
him.
"It's .lack Blaze, Captain. l>o you find
yourself bettor ?"
"Do you think I want to la* better," 1
said. "1 want to die and go to Jennie, 1
murdered her."
"No, no Captain," said .lack softly to
me. "You locked her up from her true
love as loved her, but you didn't know
what was coming."
4 Uli, if I could die this minute," said I.
".lark, if you have a pistol put it to my
head! My little girl."
"Well, she is safe from marrying me,
Captain," said Jack. "1 suppose that's a
comfort to you."
"Oh. Jack !" said I. 44 0h, Jack Blaze,
if my Jennie could come to life again,
there's nothing I'd deny her ! She might
marry a chimney-sweep, ami I'd give her
my blessing, let alone a good sailor like
you, as 1 know nothing against, but that
he's what I was thirty years ago. Oh,
Jack, if Jennie could come back to life, I'd
give her to you and be happy ; but its uo
t use. she's drowned."
"Captain," said Jack Blaze, 1 lending
over me, "I don't feel sure of that."
, 4 'Kli!" said I.
"To be sure," said he, "if she was in
the cabin, locked up as you left her, she'd
have drowned certain sure; but she mayn't
have been."
"Eh !'' shrieked I again.
"Indeed,'' said Jack, "I know she
warn't."
Oil, Lord, help me! Don't torture me,"
said I. 4 'Speak out."
"She warn't Captain," said Jack, "for
fifteen minutes after you left 1 went aboard,
burst open the door —there was no one
there but the cabin lxiy—and took her out.
We went to the cabin together and we bail
a lovely day. The Saucy .lane's cabin was
stove in ; the coallioat walked straight into
the cabin. Captain, and it's God's mercy I
took her out."
Then I heard a dear sweet voice, crying
out:
"Jack, open the door; let me come to
pajia."
1 hadn't cried liefore since I was flogged
at school, but 1 cried like a baby then, and
how could 1 help it? For Jennie had come
out of the grave, as it seemed to me, and
was holding my head in her arms, and
kissing nie, and calling me. her darling.
X Ww on hoppj I Uronglil I trt*.-.%.* ,
and I never remembered that I had lost the
Saucy Jane until the next morning, though
the boat way the very apple of my eye.
I own another now, ami Jack and I take
her up and down the river.
Jennie goes with us very often, for she
married Jack Blaze last Christmas, and I
like the lad—yes, 1 like him almost as well
as Jennie does. I think, for if I had been
left to myself, and he had not set himself
against me that dreadful (lay, I should have
no daughter now, and I would be her mur
derer.
Our "Finafor®."
"We'll have a boat, and not a horse this
vacation," roared our hopeful, just out of
school and just in his teens. "Because
when we've got a Ixiat, we've got it, and a
horse always eats his head off, to say noth
ing of shoeing and keeping the wagon in
repair."
So the boat was purchased, a second liarul
flat bottomed punt, and for two days I
heard little liesides "her model."
Being the exchequer of the family, the
first draft made was for "painting" and
"caulking"—"because" she needed "fix
ing up," and "like all other row-boats she
leaked." For two more days the entire
conversation was devoted to the appearance
of "her bottom," "puttying her seams,"
and the prettiest colors for our craft.
Once again in the water, she was found
to "yaw around badly," when a rudder was
decided to be the thing. Consequently a
carpentsr was enlisted and a rudder such as
a house carpenter and land lublier would
fashion was made for the Pinafore.
In pulling alKHit the river, on the banks
our hopeful discovered a snaro in the form
of a l)oat-builder, who rented all styles of
well made crafts, to make others dissatis
fied with their own. The first of this old
fellow's suggestions was a sail for the Pin
afore. Therefore, the oars, which, by the
way, were just paid for (the old ones hav
ing no "spoons" j, were looked upon with
disdain by our son and heir, who began
hoisting his breeches and donning the man
ner of a skipper. The sail was made and
stepped, and we supposed the goal reached,
when a "leeboard" was found indispensable.
This added, there is nothing now desired,
but a new Pinafore "built to sail, you
know, not an old tub altered over." Bur
ring the daily renewal of a spuuge, an oc
casional rowlock, and rope and float, which
are stolen alwvut every other night, we sail
quietly forward, anticipating the new Pin
afore which the old snare has promised to
"build cheap during Winter months."
The City of Paris employs one or two
very effective devices for street sprinkling,
one of these Iwung a tank, or oblong box,
made of sheet iron, and which has a scat
for the driver, whence the tauk can be op
erated. The capacity'of this tank is some
:J4O gallons, and it works on a strip fifteen
feet wide at each passage; it is emptied
after a run of from 1,500 to 2,000 feet, ac
cording to its contents The filling is done
by a leather or India rublxjr hose screwed
to hydrants under the sidewalks, and so
spaced that the tanks have only short dis
tatices to run when emptied. One tank
suffices for an area of two and a half acres
of metalled surface, or five acres of paved
streets. Hand sprinklers are used for the
planted alleys; the hose is screwed to hy
drants placed at suitable distances, and the
apparatus which is from forty to fifty feet
long can, with a head of fifty leet, accom
plish the task of throwing a jet of forty
feet amplitude.
A WARRANT for a mail's arrest is like
an old coat, because it's sv "•
Street Sprinkling in Farm.
MILLIIEIM, PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, J879.
(lon. Furrokt'a of I'okor.
Several yours ago General Forrest visited
Nashville, nnd stopped at the old City Ho
tel. That night several gentlemen called
to see him, among them a gentleman now
connected with the Banner. The room hud
been crowded during the early part of the
night, and Forrest had received the usual
attention liestowed on him. Now, however
he was sitting off by himself, uud appeared
worn and tired out. Our informant, wish
ing to have a talk with him aliout himself,
sought him and entered into conversation
with him.
"General," says he, I've heard you were
a great poker player in your time."
44 Yea," says the general, "1 have played
some," and his eyes began to sparkle with
the memory of old times, and he at once
seemed interested in the subject, for lie it
known that no one was foiuier of recount
cring his wonderful exploits.
"How much, general, was the largest
stake you ever played ?"
"1 once called $48,000 m New Orleans."
"Did you win ?''
"Oh. yes! 1 won it."
"What was your hand, general?"
"It was three kings."
"But," says he, "the hardest game I
ever played was at Memphis. Just after
the war closed me and my wife went to
Memphis, and stopped at the Worsliam
House. The next morning we got our
things together, ami 1 emptied all of my
papers out of my trunk on the tioor, ami
Mary, (I'm not certain his wife's name was
Mary, hut that will do for the tale) went
over and over them, hunting for something
to raise money out of. I emptied my pock
ets and Mary emptied her'n, and between
us we had $7.30. After huntin' over ev
erythmg we found that every man who
owed us was either dead or broke. 1 had
not one single paper on which 1 could raise
a cent out'u.
44 After we got through the pile I looked
at Mary and Mary looked at me. 'Now
what's lo be done, Mary,' says I. 'I don't
know,' says she, 'but the Lord will provide.'
You see, Mary was one of the best women
in the world, ami she had a heap of faith
in her religion. I looked at her straight for
a long time, ami at last says: "Mary, you
are a mighty good woman, ami I'm going to
tell you something. There's to lie a big din
ner at this evening, and I'm invited.
They always play poker at that house, and
you have always been agin me playing, and
1 reckon you are light alxiut it. But things
have become desperate with us, and some
how 1 feel if you wouldn't he agin me, hut
would pray for me, i could make a raise
to-night.'
4 'Sayß she: 'Bedford, I can,t do it. It's
wrong for vou to do it, ami I'd alieap rath
er you wouldn't.'
" 'But Mary,' says I, 'I never was in
such a fix before.• Here we are with no
money but #7.3(, and that won't pay our
tavern bill. I can't lose no more than that
for 1 swear 1 won't bet on air |
we'll have something to start on*'
"Well, I argued and argued with her,
but she wouldn't say yes. But at last she
says:
" 'Bedford, I know your mind is set on
it, ami 1 know you are going to bet, wheth
er lam willin' or not; so 1 won't say noth
ing more aliout it.'
"But,somehow, I felt when I started that
she was for me, and 1 jist knowed liow
'twould IK*.'
"Well, I went sometime l>efoiv dinner,
and, sure enough, they were ut it. They
had three tallies—oue had a quarter ante,
one a half, and oue a dollar and a half. I
wanted my seven dollars to last as long as
I could make it, so 1 set down to the quar
ter table. We bet on until dinner, and by
that time 1 had enough to do better; anil
after we had eat, 1 sat down to the dollar -
aud-a-half table. Sometimes I won, and
then again I'd lost? on until about midnight
and then 1 had better luck. I know'd
Mary was setting up and praying ; 1 felt
like it, and it made me cool. I set my hat
down by my side on the floor, anil every
time I'd win I'd drop the money in the hat.
We played on, and 1 didn't know how
much I'd won. 1 didn't keep any count,
but 1 know'd I was winning.
"1 thought may be I'd won a hundred
dollars, or may be two hundred dollars, but
I didn't know. I set there until day broke
and then we went home. 1 took my hat up
in both hands and mashed it on my head
and went home without taking it off. When
I got to my riK)m there sat Mary in her
gown, and the bed wasn't mashed. She'd
set up all night waiting forme. She seem
ed tired and anxious, and though she look
ed mighty hard at me she didn t say a word.
I walked right up to her, and pulling off
my hat with both hands 1 emptied it all
right in her gown. And then we set down
and counted it."
"How much was there, general ?"
"Just fifteen hundred dollars even."
"Anil that," added the general, as he
walked off, "give me a start."
A Chance for Work.
One morning I walked out by myself.
All along the marsh road the farmers were
busy in their meadows mowing and turning
their lmy. A couple of regularly ordained
tramps, idle and aimless as myself, and
much better acquainted with the road, pass
ed me, and I tagged along in their longing
wake. Presently the voice of the farmer
came over the sweet-scented meadows :
"Hallo 1"
The tramps halted. "Hallo yourself,"
shouted one of them.
"Do you want to hire?" yelled the
farmer.
Judge of my astonishment when both
tramps chorused back
"Yes."
"Well, I thought, they aren't American
tramps anyhow, or they wouldn't disgrace
the profession in this way. But I stood
still to listen and watch, for it was an un
usual sight; two tramps going to work.
"Then come over here!" yelled the
farmer, and the two fellows sprang over the
fence and trudged across the meadow with
the brisk air of men who really wanted
work and meant business. The farmer
staixl still, leaning on his pitchfork, gazing
intently at my motionless figure. Present
ly nis voice broke the silence once more,
"Don't that other fellow want to hire,
too?" he yelled.
The two tramps turned and glanced at
me for a reply. 1 ahixvk my head sadly,
but firmly, and moved ou, without waiting
to hear the farmer's muttered comments on
my laziness. An American may die, hut
he never works.
—The C'abots discovered Labrador in
14U7.
(JoOll llOUWkHflllllg.
In the flrst ulacej the thorough house
keeper feels that the successful manage
ment of her domestic duties requires much
thought and attention. She is, therefore,
quite willing to e\|iend some brain |xwcr
upon it. Now, suppose we set aside one
hour each morning, and decide to devote
that entirely to our house. Let the larder
flrst be visited, and the ways and means
for the day's food he well considered before
the orders are given; and then, if possible,
| let the orders be final. Do not consider it
; at all derogatory tq lie seen studying a
cookery book; we must lie very perfect if
we can learn nothing from other sources.
Endeavor to have a change of food, and
also a variety in the way of serving it—in
short,'study your'daily dinner. Have a
I look upstairs in which you enter all the
orders and quantities which should tie given
to the tradespeople each day, and should
the cook order extra or different things, let
, her understand that you intend to tie the
dispenser of your own income. A good
housekeeper will have some plan in her
; mind for the week's food. She will know
' when the cook should have suflicicnt stink
J to make soup; and every housewife will
soon find how expecting the soup to lie
; made, and explaining how it must lie done,
will form the habit of having it done.
Our servants are very much what we make
them, ami it has liccn the lazy and inetli
cient system that housekeeping has degen
erated into that has made servants what
they are. In factories ami workshops, the
foreman or forewoman exercises constant
supervision over the workpeople; so also
should our servants lie looked after. After
the kitchen is uttended to, walk up Htairs
and see if the rest of the work is properly
carried on. Probably you have given some
order, see if it has been executed as you
wish. This general supervision will he ten
times more effectual than the usual fault
finding by fits and starts —a grand row now
and then, when both mistress and maid
lose the control of their tempers, and which
probably ends iu notice to quit being given
from one side to the other. Lastly, pay
your hills yourself: it brings you into eon
tact with your tradespeople; it lets you
know more fully the current prices of arti
cles. Now, your hour's time well em
ployed, and done to the lieat of your ability,
dismiss the subject from your mind. Do
not be worrying over dinners and servants
all day. always bemoaning shortcomings; |
and, alwive and lieyond all, lie morally
courageous. In a home that is well ami
conscientiously managed, it will Ik* impos
sible to find discontent and unhuppiness.
A Fisherman** 'Tall Yarn."
Sixty miles from Brooklyn, on Long Isl
and, there is a small village well known as
a favorite resort for fishermen. Its natives
all own Imats, ami are celebrated for their
skill with the hook and .-hwV
"... wriu> r and friend tn admiration
upon a large fleet of fishing-lioats, which
were anchered thereon. While thus en
gaged we were joined by a low-sized weatli
or-lieaten son of the sea. lie approached
us slowly, raised his haltered straw hat,and I
said:
".lust arrived, gen'lmen? Beckon you've
conic down to take a hack at the blue fish."
"That is our intention," we said. "Have
you a boat fit for the purpose ?"
"Wall, you're right, geu'l'men. Do you
see that sloop yonder ?" and the old man
extended a stump of a forefinger in the di
rwet ion of a cranky-looking, small-sized
Isiat lying at anchor all alone, as if she did
not deem herself fit company for her uiore
modern-looking sisters. She was painted
a dirty yellow, with a faded blue streak
above the water line, and she possessed a
decidedly unprepossessing appearance. This
was suggested to the old man in a manner
which was not calculated to hurt his feel
ings.
"I'll allow she ain't much on style,"
said he, "and if ycr want a boat with vel
vet cushions, where yer kin lay with yer
head in yer gal's lap and munch candy
while she reads |H>'try to yer, she ain't the
craft for yer ; but if yer wants a solid craft
that ain't afeerd of wind or water to do yer
Ashing in, there's your boat and I'm the
man kin sail her."
There was something in the force of his
argument that led us to place contidence in
him, and in two minutes a satisfactory bar
gain was made. We trudged back to the
hotel, at which, under the inspiration of
sundry potations, the old man grew confl
dantiul and voluble.
"GenTmen," said he, "when you've
heerd what I'm agoing to tell yer you'll al
low there ain't no t>etter ls>at in the bay
than the Sary Matilder. 1 calls her Sary
Matilder after the youngest gal of Scuddee
Conkling, who owns that big house down
on the P'int, I git an odd job now and
then during the winter down to the P'int
and I named the boat out of—of—"
"Gratitude," was suggested.
"That's the word, genTmen. Well, as I
was a saying, a few summers ago there was
a couple of young student chaps came down
from York, and they hired me for a week
to take 'em ffshin' and sailin'. Well, the
fust day we ketohed sixty-flve blue-fish and
Spanish mackerel, and when wo got home
sir, them fellers' hands, as wasn't used to
hard work, was all cut and Vtercd. I
doctored 'em with sweet ilo and flour, but
they t<x)k a long time to heal, and they
wore gloves on 'em while they was hero.
Of course, this put an end to their fishin';
but they were genTmen, and they stuck to
their bargain, and took out their week in
sailin' over the bay. They was very fond
of sailin' along the beach and gathcrin'
shells and gull's eggs and beach plums and
sea-weeds, and all that kind of trash—"
"Well, 1 don't think it'll hurt me," he
said, in answer to an interruption, and he
poured out a half tumbler of Medford mm.
"Well, we was a-sailin' along one after
noon, huggin' the shore pretty close, when
I heerd a tremendous screechin and flutter
in' of wings, and I looks up, and there
over the Pint was more'n a million gulls
actin' like they was crazy."
"What's that ?" says my passengers.
" 'Gulls a-feedin', sez I. 'Mayhap a
school of bunker or some dead sharks is
a-comin' through the inlet and the creatures
is a-feedin' on 'em. llowaomever, we'll
run down and see.' With that I shook the
reefs out'n the mains'l, and away she flew.
GenTmen, when I got beyond that P'int I
see a sight what I'll never see ag'in. Right
in the middle of the channel the waves was
a-bilin' four feet high, and they was alive
with Ash; blue-Ash, genTmen, and whop
pers at that. On liotli sides of the channel
the water was as quiet as the licker in that
bottle. Now, boys, there ain't no spryer
old man 111 Suffolk County, if I do say it,
myself, and I don't allow no man to give
me pints about hlue-flahin', and iu iess'n a
minute I had two out riggers ami four starn
liiivs a-driftiu' in the water behind us.
"We sails up the smooth water right
'long-side of these rollin' waves, whatM re
mind yer of stoopln' along a stone wall, an'
there I see fish a-dartin* and a-flyiu' like
shrimp in a box. They rushed on them
lines a hundred at onct, and, whish ! away
went the whole tackle. That happened
ag'in and ag'in until I hadn't a squid aboard
the Isiat; but I warn't comin' ashore with
out some of them fish ; not by no means;
so an idea st ruck.
44 4 Boya,' says I, 4 be you game ?'
" 4 We be,' says they, and they looked
game, spite of their sore hands. •
44 4 Will you jine me in dom' what no
mortal man has ever done afore V
44 4 We will,' says they; 'we'll stick
through thick ami thin.'
"With that 1 puts the Isiat aliout and
sails down to where the seu was the rough
est. 4 Bovs,' says I, 4 hraee up agin' Hint
cabip an' hold on for yoitr lives. Don't
move till 1 say "scoop," and then you want
to scoop.' There was a stiff breeze from
the nor'west and I depended on that to help
me through. I got astride the helluin ami
pinted the how for a big wave that looked
like it was a-goiu to swallow hs. Sary Ma
tilder knew iier repcrtation was at stake,
and she wasn't a-goin' to lose it. She dash
ed right into it like a duck, and away she
went two feet under water, and right Inflow
that school of fish that was a-figiitin' and
a-hitin' right over us. \Scoop,' says I, and
the way them fellers gathered in them fish
was a sight to see. When wo got out into
the smooth water the cock-pit was three
feet deep with them fish a floppin' and
a-trvin' their liest to get out. Tliey was a
slidin' over the decks, and when me and
the young fellers had got 'em uli stowed
away, the gunnels of the Sary Matilder was
only an inch out of the water, and three
tireder men than we was never canio hack
from a fishin' excursion. Why, them three
men couldn't raise their arms to their heads
for nigh onto three days."
"How many fish did you capture?" we
asked him.
"Well. genYmen, by actool count there
was just 1,1 <>7 blue-fish, ami not one of
them weighed iess'n ten pounds. That's
without count in' a bushel or so of small
fish that we chucked overlioard. 1 felt as
if I'd done my duty that day, and I didn't
blow much aliout it; hut, somehow the
story got out, and down comes some of them
newspaper fellers from New York, and
they offers me as high as $25 to tell the
story; but I wasn't agoiu' to give it sway.
But I been! last week them two young fel
lers was drowned in a fresh-water place in
York State, and I felt somehow as the story
had to Ik* told some day or other. That's
why I told yer to-day."
"When did this occur, Cap?" asked the
landlord, who had been a silent listener.
rvsW<Hl <lou.it luwtt
"you're always interferin' where you ain't
got no business. Come, Iniys," said lie,
turning to us, take a "nightcap" with me,
and I'll lie on hand for yer at five o'clock
sharp.
Joint Knmlol|>lt Vanquished.
John Randolph was not always victor in
the petty discords of the nejghliorhoud. He
was vanquished once, on a held of his own
selection, by a quiet, resolute neighlnir;
and he confessed himself, not in so many
words, but by his actions, as beaten at his
own game. The locality must be dcscrilied:
The land of Mr. 11. lay broadly between
Rushy Park and the courthouse, and the
land of Bushy Park lays as broadly bet ween
tin* residence of Mr. 11. aud the mill l the
neighliorhood on Staunton river. I here
were two roads to the courthouse for Mr.
Randolph ; one, the longer aud worse, was
the stage road from the courthouse to the
river; the other, shorter and better, through
the lands of Mr. 11. There were two roads
to the mill for Mr. II.; the shorter ami bet
ter one through Bushy Park, and the stage
road to the river, and then along its low,
flat and muddy banks to the mill. These
private roads had been open and free from
olden time.
One morning the mill boy returned to the
house and informed Mr. 11. that the old
way to the mill was cut off. Mr. Randolph
had erected a strong jMist and rail fence
across the road, and there was no opening
in the fence on either side for a long dis
tance. Everybody went to mill, and every
body s<x>n found out the fact of the fence in
the way. The one conclusion of all was the
same. It was one of Mr. Randolph's freaks.
Beyond, and deei>er in the woods than the
private road to the mill, was the private
road to the courthouse. When 011 the next
court day Mr. Randolph passed out of the
woods 011 his own premises into those of
Mr. 11. he was confronted with a fence ten
rails high, with stakes and riders at every
panel—a formidable obstacle in his way,
and extending right and left as far as the
eye could reach. He took in the situation,
and, as he was alone, it is not known that
he made any remarks, or whether they were
sharp pointed or not. Months passed away.
The situation was not changed. Incon
venience, trouble, exasperation grew and
multiplied as the time lengthened.
Late one morning Mr. Randolph, just ar
rived, riding across the courtyard, met Mr.
H., and checking his horse, leaning over
the saddle, said, with a courteous bow:
"Mr. A., if you'll let me go to court I'll
let you go to mill."
"Certainly, Mr. Randolph, with pleasure.
But, Mr. Randolph, you began it."
"Yes, sir; and I'll end it."
In a few days, strong, wide gates, over
each road, swung freely to every one who
had occasion to go through in either direc
tion
How to Deal with Kat*.
We clean our premises of these detesta
ble vermin by making a white-wash yellow
with copperas and covering the stones and
rafters of the cellar with a thick coat of it.
In every crevice where a rat might tread we
put crystals of the copperas and scattered
the same in the corners of the floor. The
result was a perfect stampede of rats and
mice. Sinee that time not a foot-fall of
either rats or mice has been heard about the
house. Every spring a coat of the yellow
wash is given to the cellar, as a purifier as
well as a rat exterminator, and no typhoid,
dysentery, or fever attacks the family.
Many persons deliberately attract all the
rats in the neighliorhood by leaving fruits
and vegetables uncovered in the cellar; and
sometimes even the soap-scraps are left open
for their regalement, (lover up everything
eatable in the cellar and pantry, and you
' will soon starve theiu out.
Bertha and the Ocean.
When Bertha looked from the windows
of her home she could see the ocean shin
ing, darkening and moving restlessly under
the sun, the clouds and the wind.
Bertha little knew of the sorrow the
ocean had created. To her it was a joyful
mystery. Who put the great water there ?
Why did it whirl, dance, frown and smile
along the beach and never go to sleep like
little girls? These were questions Bertlia
asked herself and could not answer.
It brought her fine gifts, too, of pearly
shells ami trailing sea-weed, and traced
ran- curves and delicate markings along the
sand.
Bertha's mother used to sit by the win
dow sewing, ami once in a long while her
humis would rest idly in her lap and her
eyes looked far away over the rolling
waves.
Then Bertha would h*ave her play and
nestle close by her mother's side and ask
her many questions, and chief among them
where her father could be and why lie
never came home; hut her mother only
answered, still looking at the waves, that
father hail gone aw ay in a far country, she
thought, and so if was not long before Ber
tlia noticed, or rather felt, that her mother
uevet smiled at the sea.
It was a lonely shore where Bertlia lived,
and she used to play about a great deal,
talking sweetly to herself all the time.
Bertha was a queer little girl. Often she
sat down in u sheltered nook, secure among
the rocks, and wished there was some one
to play with her. But there was no one.
Often in the quiet afternoons she liad long
dreams about her father, who went away
in a great ship, and whose face she could
just remember.
From her place among the nicks she
could see far away along the sand, a little
village where there were white houses and
a jKirt, and once in a while a sail would
grow slowly out from the silent horizon
and glide gently towards that village lia
vcn.
"All the ships go in there," said Bertlia,
one day. "Perhaps my father will come
that way. 1 must go and see if he don't
right away this minute."
Without thinking how frightened her
mother would lie or how long it would take
her to reach the village, she ran swiftly
away over the hot and shining sand.
For a long time she walked, and her feet
began to ache and her heart to sink within
her, for the village seemed further away
than ever before.
The sun went liehind a cloud, and the
waves instead of dancing joyfully as when
she started, now seemed to aliout as they
rolled in upon tiie shore, "Go back, return,''
over and over again. But when she looked
hack, her home was not to IK* seen.
She was lost, and in her mi mi's eye she
saw her mother running about among the
rocks very white and frightened, calling,
"Bertha, where are you?" The village.
IH-imit sin uowrr TiespouoeiiL auu weeping:
As she sat there wondering what she
should do, she saw a bearded man ap
proaching lier. As soon as he reached her
lie put his great brown hand gently upon
her shoulder, and said, very kindly:—
"My little lass, what is the trouble?"
"I am loosed," said Bertha.
"Isißt, you mean," satd the stranger
smiling, "And how came you so What
is your name ?
"Why don't you know ?" she said. "1
lie Bertlia. I was going to find my papa,
because I and mamma lie all alone and
papa has been away a dreadful king lime,
such a long time 1 think he never will kn jw
the way hack if 1 don't find liim and show
him where we live—oh look at that big
white bird out there! But Hie'fraid I
can't find my papa now. Do you know
where "
Bertha stopped talking suddenly. The
stranger was pressing her in his arms so
so close she could not sjieak, and there were
tears in his eyes.
"I will take you home little one," he
said huskily.
"Has you got a cold?" said Bertha;
"'cause you don't talk right and plain like
I do."
When Bertha and the stranger entered
the cottage her mother gave a great cry.
That night the waves upon the l>each
had hushed B&rtlia to sleep before she
could believe she had really found her fa
ther at last.
Fifteen Kulen fi>r the Table.
When you go to the table take your seat
quietly and do not commence to eat until
all your friends are served.
Do not eat fast.
I)o not shovel your food into your mouth
with your knife, but eat with a fork and
cut your fomi with your knife.
If you are asked what part of anything
you want, state it. If you do not the per
son waiting on you docs not know what to
give you.
Do not rest your elltows on the table.
If a plate is passed to you keep it, and
do not pass it all around the table. The
person who waits on you does not know
who to pass the next to.
Do not .make the drinking from cup or
spoon a vocal exercise.
Do not heap your plate with what you
cannot eat.
If anything is wrong with something you
are eating, do not sjK'ftk about it or show it
to anybody, hut get rid of it as quietly and
quickly as possible.
I)o not catch hold of knife, fork,or spoon
with the whole hand with a grip like a lob
ster's, but hold them easily and in the right
position.
When you pass your plate for more food,
rest your knife and fork agaiust either your
butter plate or saucer.
Do not reach for butter with your own
knife, but use the butter knife.
Do not pour coffee or tea into a saucer to
cool.
Do not blow anything to cool it.
I)o not leave the table while anybody is
eating without asking to be excused.
A lUvr ot Ink.
In Algeria there is a river of genuine
iuk. It is formed by the union of two
streams, one coming from the region of fer
ruginous soil, the other draining a peat
swamp. The water of the former is
strongly impregnated with iron, that of the
latter with gallic acid. When the two wa
ters mingle the acid of the one unites with
the iron of the other, forming a true ink.
All useless misery is certainly folly,
and he that feels evils before they con.c
may be deservedly censured, yet surely
to dread the future is more rw<r*ble
than t *
FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
Few men are quite fit to live.
When the moon gets full it keeps late
hours.
The oldest verse in existence—the
Universe.
Ignorance has no light; error follows
a false one.
There is no grief like the grief which
does not sjieak.
He who blackens others does not
whiten himself.
It is a good sign when a man is glad
that God see him.
A fine coat may cover a fool, but
never conceals one.
Ignorance is a subject for pity, not
laughter.
A knowledge of mankind is necessary
to acquire prudence.
Darkness, solicitude and remorse are
a grim and hateful company.
The test of moral character fa no in
fallibility but recuperative power.
Often a reserve that hides a bitter
humiliation seems to be haughtiuess.
A great experience transforms. We
must even be more or less than our old
selves.
When a human mind gets down to a
deep In a rut of thinking it is hard to
lift it out.
Flower* sweeten the air, rejoice the
eye, link us with nature and innocence,
and are something to love.
This 1* the present reward of virtuous
conduct—that no unlucky consequence
can oblige us to regret it.
integrity without knowledge is weak
and useless, and knowledge without in
tegrity is dangerous and dreadful.
It is so hard for us to understand why
our friends do not feel our wrongs so
poignantly as we do.
The improved and pious way of gos
siping is to sweeten scandal with the
treacle of homilizing inferences.
Nothing in all this social universe is
so utterly thrown away and troddeu un
der loot as a dishonored woman.
Hero making is a woman's work;
even your sensible and practical woman
must take to hero making sooner or later.
Envy and malice are devils that drive
possessed souls into the contemplation
of that which aggravates their madness.
The metaphysics of salvation are not
so much consequence, when one is en
gaged in the practice of actually sav
ing men.
It is one of the advantages of women
that not pretending to be logical, ihey
can change front on the instant, when
they see fit. -
There is no safe ground for a good
sound preacher, but to attack aucient
wickedness and the sins and .supersti
tious of foreign countries. . ■ ■■■ ■■
lie who sees evil iu prospect meets itou
the way; but lie who catches it by re
trospection, turus back to find It.
The hunible man, though surrounded
with the scorn and reproach of the
world, is still in peaee, for the stability
of his peace restest not upon the world
but only God.
He who begin by loving Christianity
better than truth will proceed by loving
his own sect or ohurch better than
Christianity, and end in loviug his opin
ions best of all.
Knowledge cannot be acquired with
out pain and application. It is trouble
some, and like digging for pure waters,
but, when once you come to the spring,
it rises up to meet you.
It Is better that joy should be spread
over all the day in the form of strength,
than that it should be concentrated in
to ecstacies full of danger, and follow
ed by reactions.
There are treasures laid up in the
heart—treasured of charity, piety, tem
perance and soberness. These treas
ures a man takes with him oeyoud
death, when he leaves this world.
A man's nature is best perceived in
privateness, for there is no affectation;
in passion, for that putteth a man out
of his precepts, and iu a mew case or ex
periment, for there custom leaveth him.
The beginning of hardship is like the
tirst taste of bitter food—it seems for a
m ment unbearable; yet, if there is
nothing else to satisfy your hunger, we
take another bite and tiud it possible to
go on.
When one sin Is admitted, it is gener
ally found that it hath a companion
waiting at the door; and the former
will work hard to secure the admission
of the latter, iu which it generally suc
ceeds.
Women govern us; let us try to ren
der them more perteet The tnore they
are enlightened, so much the more we
shall be. On the cultivation ot the
minds of women, depends the wisdom
of man.
Make up your mind what you intend
to do. Sit down and count the cost. Do
act undertake more than you can per
form. It is unwise to commence work
that you are not able to finish indue
season.
Oh, how full of error is the judgment,
of mankind! They wonder at results
when they are ignorant of the reasons.
They call It fortune when they know
not the cause, and thus worship their
own ignorance turned into a deity.
Let those who are appointed to judge
of the character of others bear in mind
there own imperfections, and rather
strive by sympathy to soften the pang
arising from a conviction of guilt, than
by misrepresentation to increase it.
Vice is very prolific. A lie hates to
be alone, and must have company. He
who tells one lie is sure to tell another
to cover up the first, and a third to
cover up the other two. After that he
becomes accustomed to it, and stops
counting.
Make use of time, if thou lovest eter
nity ; know yesterday cannot be recall
ed, to-morrow cannot be assured; to
day is only thine; which, if thou pro
crastinate, thou losest; which is lost
forever. One to-day is worth two to
morrows.
A farmer likes a field that is filled with
corn, not oue that grows with resplen
dent poppies; he likes grass that is
pure grass, fit for the service of the
beast upon the hills, not that which is
mixed with buttercups. So when w# (
go to the sanctuary it is not flowers we
want, to be a bouquet of beauty, but
food to sustain our souls and strengthen
us for the toils and trials of fhe week.
NO. 38.