J ————————————
For Our Youth.
s—
Washington in Youth.
Fortunately for himself and his coun-
try, Washington was educated in pov-
erty, the son of a Virginia farmer.
From his childhood he was probably
employed in active labors. His father
had large tracts of land that apparently
produced little money. The house in
which the young Washington was born
was small, and built of wood. The
country around was wild and thinly
settled. Washington went to a country
school, where the teaching was very
poor. At home in the plain, country
farmhouse he could have learned little,
His mother was an excellent woman,
and taught her son industry and hon-
esty.
His father died when he was a child
and his mother, who was his father’s
second wife, was left to support her-
self and her children from her farm.
Ske lived in comparative poverty in a
small woeden house. Her son George
was a strong, healthy boy, and gave
her, no doubt, all the help he could.
He studied well at school. He was
always industrious. Like many useful
men, he educated himself. His mother
would no doubt have been glad to have
sent him to college at Princeton or Har-
vard ; but the cost was great, and the
poor widow’s son could hope for none
of the advantages of a higher education.
John Adams and Samuel Adams could
pass through Harvard with success;
Hamilton was at Columbia College,
Jefferson at William and Mary, But
Washington, the most eminent of the
patriots, was obliged to educate him-
self in the midst of his labors on the
farm. IL.ike Franklin and Burns,
Shakespeare and Virgil he probably
read as he worked atthe harvest or
guided the plow.
Washington had never any leisure to
learn Latin or Greek, or even French,
His object was to make a living. He
kept no journal of his youth. He never
desired to become a ‘‘great man,” but
he was resolved to be an honest one,
and to maintain himself. At one mo-
ment he thought of going into the navy-
but his mother opposed it. She said it
was a ** bad scheme,” and she kept him
at home to become the founder of the Re-
public. The warrant for making him a
midshipman was already signed, when
she interfered so happily for all. She
would not part with her eldest son, the
stay of the family.
him to the temptations and dangers of
a naval life. A mothe. s love saved
him to his country. years
afterward, in 1787, he could still write
and subscribe himself, **
madam,
She feared to expose
Forty-two
I am, honored
dutiful and
(:. Washington.”
At fourteen Washington became al-
He had
already taught himself to write a clear,
round hand. He drew well and was 4
careful mathematician, very correct and
methodical in all that he did. He had
left school and went to stay with an
elder half-brother, who owned the fine
estate of Mt. Vernon. He seems to
have resolved already to become a sur-
veyor. He had surveyed the land
around the school-house, and was fond
of wandering over the country. He
had not sufficient knowledge to become
a teacher, like John Adams, or a law-
yer, like Jefferson. He seems to have
found farming a pugsuit that brought
in little monev.
He passed the winter in preparing
himself for his duties, and was em-
ployed, when under sixteen, by Lord
Fairfax to lay out his large estate
beyond the Alleghenies.
In this pursuit he plunged into the
wilderness, slept on the ground in chill
weather, swam streams on horseback,
climbed over rocks and precipices, and
performed his work well. Everything
that he did was done well. He grew
tall and strong ; he could bear hardship
and constant labor, He was trusted
for his honesty and good faith. At
nineteen he became the most active
of the surveyors of the colony, He re-
ceived large sums of money : he was
never again in want of it until late in
life. when his patriotism had made him
poor.
But his work
three years he was always busy in the
wilderness, He elimbed mountains,
explored valleys, became familiar with
the red men and the wild tenants of the
forest. and evidently loved his border
ife. This was the school and college
in which Washington was trained. He
was the product of a laborious youth.
Had he been accustomed only to the
luxurious life of a city, he could never
have borne the toils and cares of his
camp life. Had he been less honest
aud true he might have sought a crown
and a tyranny instead of the love and
gratitude of mankind.
It was because he turned to labor in
youth that Washington became useful
to all men. We celebrate his birthday
because he labored, not for himself, but
for his country.— Harper's Young Peo-
ple.
your most affec-
tionate son,
most ace identally 4 surveyor.
was constant. For
Years are like tigers. They always
“come with a spring.
A Greek Wedding in London.
present at an interesting ceremony in the
beautiful Greek church at Bayswater,
in itself is a study of Byzantine archi-
tecture and elaborate decoration, A
Greek maiden was to wed one of her
own nation, and to make her future
home in classic Athens among his peo-
ple. But very few young women, ex-
cepting the bridesmaids, were present,
and I noticed that the men and women
sat on different sides of the church, as
is the case in our own very High
churches. As the bridal party walked
up the centre of the church, two
golden doors above the altar steps were
thrown open, and two priests appeared,
gorgeously robed, wearing curious hat-
like coverings to their heads, much like
those worn by Jewish rabbis. One of
these, the Archimanorite, isa handsome
man, They descend, each holding a
cross in his hand, and proceeded with
the ceremony in a language quite un-
known to me, and I found it was equal-
ly unintelligible to a distinguished Greek
scholar who was with me, who explain-
ed that the pronunciation of 1nodern
Greek differs so much from that of the
ancient Greek of the university schools
that though he could read it tolerably he
could in no way understand or converse
in it. It was noticeable that no instru-
mental music enters into the service of
the Greek Church, but the voice alone,
chanting or intoning the prayers and re-
sponses, conducts the whole service,
I was curious to know why I had seen
two wreaths on the table, thinking, per-
haps, that two brides were expected, but
1 found that in this very symbolical
ceremony the bridegroom is crowned
with flowers as well as the brile. This
is solemnly done by the priest, and the
wreaths are and exchanged
above the heads of the pair in a wonder-
ful way, until, with them supported
well as possible in position by an attend-
the bridegroom is led
intoning as he walks, still
by the hand, in a sort
of procession round the centre-table of
the church, followed by the bridesmaids
and the assistant matron,
young men of the party,
large wax candle,
crossed
ant groomsman,
by the
holding his bride |
priest,
and by two
each holding a
high
I white flowers
It must have been a
trying position for the young man,
about six feet
lighted and wreathed wit
and satin ribbon.
and
certainly neither a dignified nor a solemn
one to an outsider, looking more like the
performance in a cotillion than a religi-
the
hurch much is symbolical, and
O18 8 rvic &
Greek Cl
appeals only to those who can estimate
+ but 1 was told that in
the significance of each little ceremony.
h indicated joy
I'his processional nar
and rejoicing.
The si
ign of the
as by a dance,
CTOSS WHS very con-
stantly made by the congregation
a Roman Catholic service, and the thick
gold wedding-ring for that
purpose by the priest on the forehead of
both bride and brideg
placed on the
was used
room beforeit was
lady's finger. The
pair
the same symbol. Of course the
riage was really and legally effected by
the registrar at an early
day, and a Greek lady told me that
ceremony we
the
witnessed included
and variety. In such classic society
this we scarcely expected ordinary food,
but I found that English roast
beef agreed admirably with preserved
rose leaves and delicious honey from
Mount Hymettus, where the bees of to-
day still extract luscious fragrance from
luxuriant and perfumed flowers, under
the sunny skies of Attica, as they did in
the ancient times of classic story. The
honey cakes we had for lunch this
occasion I shall not soon forget. They
were a dream of flowers and ambrosial
sweetness, and were washed down by a
rich wine whieh tasted to like
nectar.
good
on
me
virtue of prosperity is tem-
: the virtue of adversity is forti-
The
perance
tude. Bacon.
To die in order to avoid the pains
of poverty, love, or anything that is dis-
agreeable, isnot the part of a brave man,
but of a coward : for it is a cowardice to
shun the trials and crosses of life, not
undergoing death because it is honor-
able, but to avoid evil,— Aristotle,
He who knows most, grieves
for wasted time, — Dante,
No man really knows the Lord,
until he has found him out in such a
way as that he feels the Lord has touched
him. When we feel the Divine Humanity
pressing down upon our souls, when we
feel the breath of the Divine Spirit in our
hearts, when we feel that holy yearning
that quickening inspiration of the
Divine love that can only come from liv-
ing, conscious contact with the Divine
soul, then we know the Lord ; for it is
nothing but this that brings us into ac-
quaintance with him. Thomas A, King.
Nature has presented us with a large
faculty of entertaining ourselves alone,
and often calls us to it, to teach us that
we owe ourselves in part to society, but
chiefly and mostly to ourselves, Mon-
taingme.,
When men comfort themselves with
most
philosophy, "tis not because they have got
two or three sentences, but because they
have digested those sentences, and made
them their own; so upon the matter,
philosophy is nothing but discretion, —
Selden.
The most trifling actions that affect
a man’s credit are to be regarded, The
sound of your hammer at five in the
morning or at nine at night, heard bv a
creditor, makes him easy six months
longer ; but if he sees you ata billiard
table, or hears your voice at a tavern,
when you should be at work, he sends
for his money the next day.— Frank-
tin.
There are many vices which do not
deprive us of friends; there are many
virtues which prevent our having any. —
Tallyrand.
Search others for their virtues, and
thyself for thy vices, Fuller.
Poverty is the load and
wealth is the load of others, perhaps the
greater load of the two. It may weigh
them to perdition. Bear the load of
thy neighbor's poverty, and let him
bear with thee the load of thy wealth.
Thou lightenest thy load by lightening
his.
Grieve not that men know
grieve that you know not men.
of some,
Augustine,
not you,
- Confu-
CUS.
Among the means used to fetter and
restrain thought, there is, perhaps, none
more powerful than *‘ sectarian’ jour-
nalism, or ** party ’’ newspapers, These
are framed and conducted, it is to be
feared, for the express purpose of keep-
ing the sect or party well in line,
satisfying, or attempting to satisfy, the
mental requirements, with supplies
carefully prepared, so as to prevent any
growth beyond the lines laid down. In
sading these, the mental lungs are op-
pressed as by a rarified atmosphere, feel
restrained constantly by some subtle
sense of an attempt to deprive of free-
doin. to teach and enforce, which checks
their free play. Everything critical >f
the n arty’ of
thought, is carefully We
miss the elasticity
of the outer air,
outside the
of health-giving
Foulds.
All ceremonies are
by
“eects line
Iuded.
and opposing
Oor
exe
and are
enclosure for fresh
thoughts
5.1
obliged
silly things ;: but vet a man
should know
works of manners and decency,
would t
onut-
them. They are the
too often be broken in upon wer
it not
distance, It
treat
enemy at a proper
that 1
coxeombs
that reason always fools
and with great
true fi
good
cient barrier € hen
field.
To
1 a} . fie %
slowly : to live
against them.
live long it 1s hecessy
happily to live
{wero
of hopes and cares of
and of disguise
upon
be
to
if it
added hours,
had not
acceptable
vour last and
the 1
looked forward, will
Horace
which vanity
itself under sueh a variety of
P py 1
(Ese
was to super-
Hoven
boon, «
There
displays
IS ho arena in
in conversation.
-—-
States
Coins.
As frequent
concerning the values of old United
States coins, the following list is given.
The prices are, in every case, for coins
in fine condition: Dollars—1794, 219
1706. $1.50: 1797. $1.50; 179s,
small eagle on the reverse, $2.50;
with five stars facing Be figure-head,
1804, 3410; 1836, 4.05
1848, $1.20 1851, 86;
to 1858. $3.10 each, Half Dollars—17M
$3.50: 1706, $18, 1797, $14; 1801, $2.50;
1802 0: 1815, $3.25; 1836, milled
edge, : 1838, with “0 over the date,
3.10 3 1852, £2; 1853, without arrowsat
sides of date, $3.75. Quarter Dollars
1706,82: 1804, £1.75; 1805, 40
1823. $20: 1827, 220: 1853,
arrows at sides of date, $2.50.
1706, $1; 1797, 82; 1798, $2;
1801, 82; 1802, $2: 1803, #1:
1805. 1807, 1800 and 1R11, 30 cents
each: 1822, $2: 1846, 75 cents. Half
Dimes~-17T94, 1796, 1797. $1.50 each;
1800, 1801, 1203 and 1805, 75 cents each ;
1802, $23: 1846, £1. Cents—-1793,
(wreath), $2: 1793 (chain), $3; 1793
{Liberty cap), $4; 1704, 40 cents; 1795,
95 cen 8; 1796, 75 cents; 1797, 40 cents;
1718; 40 cents; 1799, $25; 1800, 1801,
1802 and 1803, 10 cents each; 1804,
$5: 18056, 1806 and 1808, 30 cents each ;
1800, $1: 1810, 25 cents; 1811, $1.10;
1812, 1813, 1821, 1822, 1823 and 1824, 15
cents each; 1856 (nickel), $1; 1857
(copper), 25 cents. Half Cents—1703p
756 cents ; 1794, 25 cents ; 1792, 25 cents ;
1706, $12; 1797, 15 cents; 1800, 15
cents; 1802, 75 cents; 1808, 1805, 1806
and 1807, 12 cents each ; 1811, 40 cents;
1831, $2.50; 1836, 1840 to 1848 and 1852,
$3 each.
queries are received
with
178,
JER, £10;
1852,
1839,
3 IRA,
£10:
cents |
without
Dies.
ga .
180), £2
1804, 84;
i a —"
Salt and water will prevent the hair
from falling out and will cause new
hair to grow. Do not use so strong as to
leave white particles upon the hair
when dry.
———
A Tea Party.
®
‘Boston harbor is black with unexpected
tea. CARLYLE
Ln
Lo! Boston harbor black with tea!
Our fathers cried, “No more Bohes !
The tea we WANT is Liberty!”
Their children's guests this evening, we
Are cheered with hospitali- ty:
The honored matron’s cup we see
1s filled with grace and dignity,
While boys and maidens $ right with glee,
Drink flowing bowls of jolli-ty ;
And youth and age to-night agree
Refusing no hilarity.
And so, what er our lot shall be
Ma we ne'er want the best of tea:
ideli ty, sinceri-ty,
hi ty. humill ty
And ami-ty and equi-ty,
And, best of any. chari-ty ;
But taste no drop of vani-ly,
Duplici-ty or enmi-ty!
While patient in adversi-ty
And simple in prosperi-ty,
Our fragile cup of life shall be
Fragrant with natural pie-ty,
Until from earthly springs we flec
To drink thy founti—Eterni-ty.
lp
CALLED FOR.
gat alone in the wide,
shady kitchen, busily engaged in pick-
ing over worthleberries, Without, the
sunshine of an August afternoon bathed
the green fields and dusty that
wound to the village, and touched with
ticher hue the nasturtinms and gerani-
ums in the tiny garden, and the Virginia
creeper that climbed blossomed
Lynn
Bessie
Ie yal
and
calico apron spread over her blue spring
muslin dress to defend it from the stains
that had soiled her little brown hands,
She was a petite and daintly rounded
maiden of about eighteen, with great eves
curls, shading a fair brow
and cheeks that had a touch of wild
rose bloom upon them.
The kitchen,
picture wi
too, was such a pretty
th its well scoured floor and
dressers, its asparagus-topped clock, its
shining with of herbs
hung behind, and great bouquet of viv-
stove bunches
id cardinal flowersset on the
The kitchen
¢ buzz of flies and
snowy ta-
still,
ticking of the
the cricket and the
alone disturbed the peace.
I that
t herself, and vawned sor
was perfectly
cle wk :
insects
and outside
Bes-
every one in the house
ne-
ber-
it of
aloud.
as she the
the
uttered
tossed over
with
half
this having summer 1}
§
ries, finishing YAWN al
iloquy about
warders
“Miss Dessie.”’
way so suddenly th
said a voice in the door-
0
it Bessie nearly upset
in her great surprise
“Oh! Mr. Vane, is
bashfully, nding de
ityou?y'
wn 10
berries
CLINE 10
:
looking
with
“IH pick
new comer,
“im up
1
a tall and handsome
twenty-one
meres
blue eves, short auburn hair curled close-
a straw hat, diving for the mis-
ith ungraceful dexterity.
is I, Have vou for-
ir PI lies with
afternoon?”
but I didn’t
know: only
responded Bessie. demurely
“Well, we'll call it this
won't we?" the persuasive rejoin
“Yes, it
gotten vou
of course,
mi toon f is
dnise 10 go for 2
“Oh. afternoon,
this say
afternoon this
some
Ww eek - "
afternoon,
der
as the straw hat was tossed on the chair.
“1] Lend half that
apron and we will have them picked over
was
help you me
in a trice.”’
Mother
biscuit
“But I shall have supper to get.
is away, and there will be to
make,” insisted turning her
face away to hide a smile that would
curve her lips.
“Never mind that,”
rice Vane. bringing a chair to her side,
“Tea is at half-past six, isn’t it ¥ and it
is now only half-past two, We'll be back
at five. without fail, and have time to
get half the lilies in the river,” and he
began to assort a handful of berries with
Bessie,
responded Mau-
much earnestness,
CWeel-l," assented after a
pause for consideration and a glance at
the clock “‘I ean go for a little while,
perhaps, Oh! don’t stain your coat,
Mr. Vane.” But Mr. Vane was sub-
limely indifferent to his coat and worked
with such good will that the berries
were soon picked over, and Bessie and
himself on their way to the river.
Five minutes later, Bessie with her
draperies daintily bestowed around her
was seated in the stern of the boat,
which, propelled by Maurice Vane's
practical hand, shot swiftly down the
stream. Although Mr. Vane said to
Bessie five times within an hour that it
was a lovely day, and although Bessie
assented every time, I hardly think they
appreciated the beauty around them,
for Bessie was quite absorbed in the
lilies and their reflection in the water,
and Mr. Vane looked more at his com-
panion than at the aspect of nature.
They had enough lilies to satisfy them,
and Bessie was leaning backward and
idly trailing one hand in the water,
when she suddenly uttered a little
scream and sat erect with white cheeks,
from which the color had been fright-
ened.
“Oh! I almost lost it. How careless
I am I’ she exclaimed, replacing an old-
Bessie,
fashioned ring, set with a tiny circle of
rubles, on her finger.
“Pid the water sweep it ont of your
hand 77
“1 suppose so, It’s too large for me,
I'm always loosing it and finding it
again. I wouldn't lese it entirely for
the world, because it used to be grand-
mother’s. She gave it to me.”
“What a curious old ring it is !”’ said
Mr. Vane, without interest. ‘May I
look at Pon’t trouble yourself to
take it off,” he said, drawing in his
oars and leaning toward his companion.
Bessie allowed her tiny brown hand
to lie in his aristocratic white one a
moment, then as coquettishly withdrew
it, “Isn’t it pretty ?”’ she inquired,
archly.
“Very pretty. Shall I tell you how
to guard against losing it in the fu-
ture 7%’
“Oh, yes, if you please.’’
“Well, wear this little ring of mine
to guard it, or better yet, exchange
with me. Give me yours and take this
instead,’ the dar-
ingly.”
Bessie
said Vvoung Iman,
looked at the
gold ring he held out to her, then looked
back the with an innocent
“Oh, I don't think it would fit ?*’
Pry it) her
softly.
Bessie
agreed,
heavy chased
at water
' suggested companion,
shook her head,
blushingly, that
harm to try, and slipped the ring on her
forefinger.
“It's a perfect fit,”
delightedly ;
Why,
mean to give it back 7”
“Of course I do.” was the
““ Why not 7’
“ Because,’ said Mr. Vane,
earnestly and disregarding his fears al-
together, while he tried to get a glimpse
of the face hidden by the flat hat,
cause I meant to ask you to wear it
but finally
it would be no
cried Mr. Vane.
“nothing can be better.”
Miss Bessie, you surely don’t
SAUCY Te.
joinder,
speaking
‘he ©
for
I meant to ask
Vane,”
“do see that lily
Won't you get it for
‘T'l get
vou will listen to me
Will
*s head was
my sake,
“Oh
YOu
Mr.
you
listener
left ?
cried the
on your
me?"
others if
first. Do vou care
that and twenty
for me? you marry me 7%’
turned
Bessis
her head bent lower.
wiO0 neck
her ears,
' No
d took he hand,
Wel
3 fen ! Ww
MERIC ans
véeniur-
leaned over an 11
agusly.
ring 7’ he
‘ Bessie, will vou wear the
questioned, softly. jut the hand
of
awn,
Was
hastily drawn away: a
flashed
pair SAUCY
sack eves into his and
rang over the
I'd rather have grandma's,
ucht t
please
o go home,
wik up the oars again 1
He
college ana heid Lhe stroks
ithout a word. was fresh fron
GAr In means
ace. hut pever made better time than
he made that afternoon
The ligl
in rowing up the
with
the rower's brow knitted and his teeth
river. hit boat shot along
set. Not once did he look at Bessie,
who sat in half-purzzied, half-alarmed si-
lence. now and then stealing a sidewise
glance at the offended voung Hercules
from under her hat, Mr.
lief when the
grated on the sand,
Bessie to
Vane drew a
last
ted
land and curtly offered to carry
her he shouldered the
marched firmly toward
Bessie,
more angry
breath of re » boat at
and having assis
lilies, oars and
home by her
somewhat bewildered and
. made no effort to break the
and endeavored to
keep from crying. When at last he left
ber at the door with a cold “Thank you,
Miss Bessie,’ and departed to carry the
oars to the barn, it was well he did not
look back, for Miss Bessie tossed the li-
lies aside with a petulant gesture and
had a fit of erving with her head on the
kitchen table,
When Mr. Vane returned from the
barn half an hour later, he did see a
picture which comforted him a little
through the hop-wreathed pantry win-
dow. It was Bessie with her sleeves
pinned up, molding biscuits in desperate
haste, while the tears fell thickly on
high calico apron. This picture
amazed Mr. Vane that he retreated
hastily behind a lilac bush to observe it ;
and lingered so long that he was late at
tea. This was a model supper. There
was the great dish of berries with snowy
cream beside, flanked by cheese and
raspberry jam. There were two moun-
tains or plates of snowy biscuits con-
trasting with sponge cake and the richer
gold of the butter. Mr. Vane, who had
supposed he should never have an appe-
tite again, felt quite revived by the sight
of this table and the memory of the pic-
ture,
The rest of the boarders seemed to
share the sensation, for the group was
very hilarious and the eatables disap-
peared rapidly. Bessie, presiding be-
tween the pots, seemed rather out of
spirits, but Farmer Lynn atoned for
her silence by unusual jolity. * ‘When
the biscuit passed a second time, to Mr.
Vane, hesaw that only one was left, and
would have decorously refused, but the
hospitable farmer pressed it upon him;
“ Pon’t be afraid of it, there's plenty
more in the kitchen, ain't there Bes.
side,
silence studiously
the
80
—
Thus pressed, Mr. Vane accepted the
biscuit and Bessie disappeared to re-
plenish the plate, Mr, Vane divided
the biscuit, then dropped it suddenly
with an exclamation that brought every
eve upon him. There embedded in the
light, white bread, lsy Bessie’s ring.
Shouts of laughter arose that brought
Bessie back from the kitchen in haste,
just in time to see Mr. Vane coolly re-
move the ring from the biscuit, amidst
the merry chorus, and drop it into his
waistcoat pocket to ** be kept till called
for.” he said, with asignificant look at
her scarlet face, Poor “Bessie! There
was no peace for her after that. An
army of jokes quite overwhelmed her
protestations and disclaimings, and she
was thankful to beat a hasty retreat to
the kitchen when the meal was over,
But there even, was pursued by a laugh-
ing trio of ladies who harassed her with
questions, and wonderment, and merri-
ment, until the last dish was set away,
and she started to the village for letters.
Instead of going to the she slid
along the h
village,
climbed the wall aud
end of the orchard
where she flung herself onthe grass and
cried as if her heart would break, She
perhaps had cried half an when a
step crushing the dry grass by, her side
roused her, and the very
dreaded to hear, said :
edge,
ran to the other
hour,
voice she most
‘ I've come to return your ring, Miss
Bessie,”
Bessie
the unfortunate
* Thank you,”
face again.
“You needn't
have brought it
find you.
Poor little sat up hastily, took
ring with a faltering
then immediately hid her
thank me; I should
before, but I couldn’
I hope you are not troubled
those jokes #*' he
*
about
added,
i N02
between her sobs, ** 1-
think I did it
How could 1 have
was a
ridiculous
Bessie,
Ith
on purpose, ”’
responded miserably,
wught you'd
thought so? It
my getting that
I'm very sorry you've
mere accident
particular biscuit.
been so annoved in this way. I'm going-
Miss Bessie,’
The sobs partially and Miss
Bessie Arevou ?”’
good-hy rr
{ away to-morrow,
ceased,
said, surprisedly, **
‘ Won't vou bid me
“Yes”
did not
Ls Y
Bessie #'
jessie said, unsteadily, but
raise her head.
hake hands, won't you, Miss
No can’t
you are with me.
hy vou are
ou’ll 8
answer, *%* 1
offended
at least tell
20
away while
Ww
erving 91s
ont
you me Ww
Os
* Because 1-1
ring.”
grandma’s
making a great
Mr. Vane laugh-
‘Why, it’s safe
a whit the
Is there
my
sobbed Bessie,
effort for composure.
ed in spite of himself.
on your finger, and not
for it
Worse
s baking. really no other
eason ¥’
*NO-
shall have
offended
tragically, *'1
as I did this
away and
Won't
shake hands?"
Mr. Vane turned
but was detained by a
never
snot hapm hong if I've
Mr V
was a brute to treat
13
vou,” said ane,
You
but
afternoon ; I'm going
HOY
shan’'t ar
forgive
you again, you
me now and
Another long silence.
away in despair,
faltering
*{--T"1l forgive
‘Well ?
position.
“You
The more observant boarders noticed
at breakfast the next morning that
Maurice wore the ring he found in the
biscuit on the little finger of his left
hand, and Bessie wore a heavily chased
gold circle in the place of her last oma-
ment.
To use the words of one of the before-
named boarders: ** That tells the whole
story.”
YOO,
you if
was the breathless inter-
won t-—go-—away ¥"’
—-————
A Mixture. v
The Elopement.—
Their pa
Rents said
They must
Not wed
A Tale.
From win-
Dow ope
There hung
A rope,
By which
To slope
Without
A sound
She reached
The ground,
Her lov-
Er found
They fled,
Were wed,
Quoth he,
Lets fly
To par-
Son nigh
Quoth she,
“Ay! Ay!
One night
She rose
Took her
Best clothse
While Pop Enough enid
Did doze Arravr Lott in “Puck
A Cincinnati clergyman thought he
would raise his own pork. So he
bought five pigs and fattened them.
Now that they are fit to kill he hesitates,
He says they appear so much like his
own children that he hasn’t the heart to
kill them.
“Tomorrow's Sunday, Isn't it,
mamma? Mayn't 1 play with the
cards and build castles with them ¥*’
“Certainly not, my dear!” *“‘But,
mamma, mightn’t I play with the
prayer books, you know, if 1 build a
church with them ?
A lady dropped in on one of her
neighbors for an afternoon call, * How
is your daughter,” she inquired.
“Splendid. She bas just got through
the Normal school where she ciphered
clear through from ambitions to chemi.
ual Saatunch, atu then Shishi up pot
Sty nd jobhety; sud ngs she oun
the i