though pa has been cheated of his bishops and senators and things (poor dear, he never dreams that sons of his might have turned out farmers like himself, only not half so good) the girls have certainly made up his loss in husbands, Indeed, pa seems to have more sons-in-law than he knows quite what to do with—and as to grand- sons | “If one could only feed them like chickens !'’ sighs poor ma plain. tively. After that little business talk pa and I had behind the barn I've settled in ay mind that the Browrs have got to economize, and I mean to start with the grand children by way of a noble beginning. “Now look here, ma,” I say Lo the dear old soul who is already swearing at me with big auxious eyes, like a hen with her feathers ruffled, “‘this thing has gone on long enough, and I just mean to hitch old Calico to the cart and dump every scrap of a grandehild at his own lawful door—I do! It's down- right mean in the girls to impose on us in this everlasting way—as if there wasn't work enough of our own ys “There, there, sis,’’ interrupts ma, pathetically, ‘‘they only mean to please pa"! “And a nice way they take to doit! Pa’s an old man now, and after pinch- ing and slaving all his live for us army of girls, what right bave they to keep him pinching and slaving to the last? Oh, you needn't look at me like that, ma, dear: children, like good mane ners, ought to be found at home—hi, you, Tom, Dick, Harry, etc., ete.” and when at last I have packed them in the wheezy old cart, and we go laughing, scratching and squalling down the road, I feel like the pied piper of Hamelin, only there's no hill with wide, greedy jaws, wait ing at the end of the trip——more’s the pity i" That sounds as if Sis Brown was not fond of children : but I really am, when they come like silk frocks and other oc- easional luxuries ; considered as every dav affairs, however, if I am to be al- lowed a preference between the two why, give me the 1eusts of Egypt and accept my grateful thanks. When I have impartially divided their howling household gods between the eight sisters who live so uncomfor- tably near, the sun is sinking behind the trees in a blaze of glorious yellow, There is a long road with many leafy turnings, that Calico knows as well as I, and while she dawdles along it with languid elegance that suits us both, I git, tailor fashion, in the bottom of the cart. thinking. heedless of whip or rein. I read a story once MEMORIES. —— BY A. ASHMUN KELLY. a All softly falls the sunlight this peaceful summer day, Thro the open casement ins flood of crys tal spray: While the ony Birds without the shady maples throng, 2 And fi) the morning air with the richness of their song: f “I'he scent of blooming roses, the murmur of the bees, The soft and tender sighing of the oderous summer breeze, : Oh, how they thrill the soul with a strange and sweet delight, And makethis dreary world of urs more I beautiful and bright!’ i Oft the heart in sudh moments a tender sadness fools, When a shade of mournful fancy in silence o'er it steals When some recollection of the past will come to mind, As if it were a message born on the drowsy wind. Back to my sunny childhood to-day my memories go . ; i live again the pure young life I lived so long ago, Ere aught of sin or sorrow had furrowed oer my, brow, : Or brought the early snow-flakes which frost my thin locks now. Dimly thro’ the mists of my foolish heart 1 ae My mother's loved image and I upon her knee; : How sweetly plays the warm smile upon her sun lit face, On es h familiar feature heaven's reflected light I trace. And for her boy she’s breathing to heaven a farventi prayer, : Fhat the L .r might make her darling his one especial care; Nor let thro life his footsteps from truth and honor stray, But teach him e'er to love his God, His ho- ly will obey. My mother dear! no other name sounds half as sweet as thine, a Around thy ssinted memory love's tendrills closely twine! And tho thee storms of years have seared my weary heart, The love I bear for thee shall neler thro’ life depart! The birds sing sweetly o'er her, and just above her grave The willows in the sunshine their graceful branches wave: There the sunshine and the shadews of years have come and gone, Leaving mo in sadness and tears to follow on. How peacefully she slumbers in the city of the dead, Where the grass is springing lightly above her pemceful bed; ; While I sitsa ily dreaming oer the mem ries of the pnast, : A nd longing still to slumber with the silent and the blest 0 happy singing birds, this happy summer Sing on your careless songs and sing my grief away! Impart the sunny mood of thy little breasts to me, Wha lives but in the pastand in a memory | Bryn Mawr, Pa, Hous Naw a Sis Brown's Fortune. To begin with, I am a young perscn witli big bones and plenty of them— and I don't care a button if my hair is 1! I have good reason to know that I am cousideradde beantiful ; that my instance—but there's really distressing de- tals, My falbe:, Peter Brown—ihe best farmer living in all Foirfax, be the dead one whom he may —is the unfor- tunate possessor of thirteen children, every single one of them girls—and the magried ones, too, for that matter ! "Of course, girls are all very well as far as they’ go, but one gets too much of a good thing sometimes, and so when poor pa takes a notion to upbraid fate because alt his boys turned ont girls, I must say I rebel aginst the decree that condemns me to slavish frocks and frizzes. Most good folks sing out that they want to carry harps and be augels, put” I-if only 1 were Peter Brown, junior, and had a farm like pa! 1 don’t blame ma, of course, but I really do think the even dezen ought to have contented her—and, what's more, I say, 50, when pa and I get beyond the subduing influence of her eye-for there’s nothing trifling about ma’s eye ! When pa and ma’s love was young, and their future a rose-colored rose— there! I've heard pa say it a dozen times, but ‘when a girl happens to be shackled with a memory like a bey’s pocket upside down and the middle nowhere, snd got that memory from her ma, [ suppose there’s to be allow- ances—anyhow the first girls got the benefit of it all Tn the Way of mugs and soral, and hames as finda fiddled ; then there came such a disastrous lull in pa’s enthusiasm. that ma says, ‘when he panted up from the fields one hot noon and found out dear old twins waiting, insted of his dinner, it set him so fran- tic that he threatened to“bunch the whole family together like a string of fish and do a dark and desperate deed. But ma just kept ont having her own way—which means girls— until by the time she wound up the home circle with me--at your service—sbe bad sc worn ber intellect down at the heels thinking up double-barreled names for the other dozen, that she handed my chris over to pa, and pa ever- lastingly disgraced himself, in my esti. mation, by heartlessly calling me Sis abs dutely nothing but Sis, If I had been a boy this indignity, at loast—but there are some wrongs so great that the only thing one can con- veniently do is to forgive them | But, f ¢ £ a. B® apr : Hse of a devil-fish crawling over the roof of a pretty cot- tage bY some I don't suppose there was a word of truth init; re southern sea not nose, o need for for but, some way, ever since pa made a sel clean breast of his troubles, 1 can’t get that shiny black monster out of ms Eh nvm wih # dav Dime ie % a nord a mot indeed, that tgage like ours was a trifle the worst of the two, becanse there's only one weapon to fight it, and where in the world is pa to get the first red cent of that terrible three thousand dollars ¥ If pa had only told me in time, perhaps I might have done some- thing heoric with my poultry—a flock of grey geese did grand things for his tory once on a time—but no, he kept as dumb as Cheops, until I found it all out myself, and no thanks to anybody. The way of it was: Ma started me down to the meadow one evening last week to see what pa meant by keeping supper waiting, and when I found him leaning against the barn there as quiet and gray as the twilight shadows, why, I think the One who doeth all things well must bave put it in my heart to wake him up and tell me the matter. There is no woman in all this big glorious world so weak as Samson with his head shaved, and so he told me be- tween sobs—I don't ever want to see my father cry again—how the big fam- fly had gobbled up the small earnings, and how at last there was nothing to do but to borrow money on the dear, shab- by old place, and now a villainous bill of some sort was coming due, “Never mind, dad,” I said, ‘come along to supper; I'll get you out of your fix.” I don’t think pa realized at the min- ute—and 1'm sure I did not—that I had never so much as seen a hundred dol- fares in all my life together, for he fol- lowed me home contentedly, put his head under the spout while I pumped, and then, with his hand on my shoul der, went into tne house and ate supper ‘@wugh for two! The next day pa was out of his head with 4 fever, and now to see him prodding about the farm with a stick in his hand and a pain in his back—poor, dear pa! Of course, the first thing that suggested itself at his bedside was blood, and plenty of it, and I did saddle Calico and race off to mur- der the mortgage man—but I might have saved mys<elf the trouble, for the vile creature wasn't at home ; then I turned the old man's head toward the fami! p-law, but there waso't a ! husband among them who had the cash 4 3 oi vy thing quite as conveniently as children. I even decided to—— “Say, young woman !”’ I am not a coward, but the creature who has brought the cart and my thoughts to such & sudden balt looks so like some great famished wolf standing there at Calico’s head, that I shiver from head to foot, and he sees it, “You needn’t be afeard,” he gasps, in a rasping sort of whisper, *‘I haven't the strength to harm you, if my will was goed for marder—look at this,” His eyes turned toward his breast his right arm lies stiffly across it, clotted with something that must be blood and the fingers look like the flesh of a dead Han. I think he understands that I am SOYTY can jump back to its right place again he drops the reins and touches his man-~ gey cap. “Dye been skulkin’® in these ‘ere woods Miss, nigh onto a week, and what with starviu’ and the pain o’ this, I'm most about dead played out,” “If you will cut across the fields to that farm house over there,” I said kindly, I am sure—for God knows I pity him from the bottom of my heart —*1 will see that you get & good sup- per.” “J couldn’t crawl there much less walk, and my time for supper is over for this world, 1 reckon.” I am so sorry for the poor, misery-rid- den creature standing there in the summer twilight, with the fragrant woods all around him, and the birds chirping sleepily in the trees—so very sorry, and I tell him so. He totters as [ say it, and 1 am just making up my mind that Calico and I have a disagreeable job before us, when he lays one miserable hand on the wheel and drawing his face near enough for me to see the ghastly seams that want has seared there, cries im- ploringly : “There's them that are hinting me to my death ; for God's sake won't you help me 7’ All my life 1 have wanted to be a man, and now the time has come to act like one; I am rubbing Calico down in her stall—pa and I being the only men—I mean pa being the only man about the place, we do this sort of thing ourselves—when the dear old fellow hobbles down the path. WAY puts his head the door. “Ris. " he begins, with wide excited eves, “‘did you meet a big fellow down the road—a dark chap with of bumps, and black, frizzled ers 7" I had not, and said so. “Well, scamp and lots wisk- he came by here hunting up who robbed Richmond and got down to these pm with the a beuk in its and /OINE money in his pocket I started hit the main road, I wonder you didn bullet in his flesh, him.” » I drove around by apswerad I feel like a cateh his scamp “Think not ¥ Why ? ‘Because I've got him snug barn I “Goodness gracious! then 1'H ji quietly enough considerin srnado @ “but to-night, dad.’ in Pa is making his way toward jus- tice as fast as his weak legs will let him, when I steady him against the stable door and take away his cane, “Dad,” I cry savagely, ‘'1 adore you, but if you take another step to harm that man why-—you've only got a dozen daughters to go through the rest of your life,” “Youl” gasp pa—and I wonder the wisp of straw he has been chew- ing does not strangle him black on the spot—‘‘a child of mine help a thief.’ “Exactly | and she means to make you an accessory after the act. Now, see here, pa, I don’t set up to be a cherub, but when a fellow creature, starved and bleeding, asks me help him in the name of God why I mean to help him if I break every law in Virginia to atoms-—so there !”’ Pa looks stunned a bit, and then laying one big brown paw on my head, as likewise expected, Kknow- ing pa's way as I do, cries stout. ly: “Spoken like a man, Sis, and now let's have a look at your villian,’ When we stand at last before the poor fellow he looks so pitifully help- less stretched out there on the friendly straw that pa's loving heart gets the best of his law-abidirg principles, and he bathed the hurt arm as tenderly as if it had never been raised in crime. When pa first hotices the jug of water I have brought him from the spring, and carriage-robe rolled up for a pillow with the rough side in, he looks at me wondertully for a second, and then ejaculates with most contented bappi- ness : “Thank God, Sis, you are only a woman, after all |” 1 suppose pa meant well, but it does not sound encouraging I've been trying RE — ers are human ! the wound. “I'm goin’ fast, boss, but she sald they should not—touch TE en ?? “Don’t worry, my lad,” cries pa, cheerily. “Right or wrong here yon stay until?’ “It won't be—long—I feel it coming fast—and harde would have died out there on the black roadside except for her, God bless her! If you—don’t mind”’—and here he looks at me so like some gaunt, faithful dog, that I lean over him by pa to catch his dying words—*'if you don’t mind—will you take this bag from-—around my neck ? It chokes me—it chokes—-—"’ “There, there,”’ says pa, tenderly, “and now, my lad, before you go to— sleep, tell, me, does this money belong to the bank ?”’ “Yes, yes,” cries the dying man, with an imploring glance at pa, while he tries to touch my band with his own poor, feeble fingers; ‘‘take it back, boss, and tell them--tell them-—that the—reward—belongs to—her—-"’ ¥ * * * * # Yes, that is the true and simple story of my fortune, no matter what the pa- pers said. For a loug time pa would not let me touch a peuny of that $5,000 but when the people at the bank insist- ed that business was business, I had earned the money and there it was, why =e Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper. Chats about Horses. “Hally, Doctor, what have you got there 7’ shouted a man to me one day, few years ago, as [ was going my rounds among my patients ; “‘a new one, Joe ; what do you think of her ?*’ this Joe was, what's called in England, a rough rider, oue who broke colts to saddle, and one of the best men in that line of business in Lancashire. “She's a beauty, where did she come from 7" “The Eccleshill stables ; she is only a blood weed.’ ‘My, she’s a pic- ture ; call her a weed, eh ¥ Why if she aint fast enough for a galloping race she has style enough about her for a lady's pad ; better let me break her to saddie, there's good money in that mare, I tell you.”” “No, no; I have taken a fancy to keep her, she is like a child, and knows as much as a man, I'll. keep her as she is, Joe, she just suits me as she is.” This mare was a perfect beauty, she had the beautiful well poised head usual among thoroughbreds, the springy elastic gait and free motion so alluring to the lover of a good horse ; color, a bright bay with black points, square wuzzle, but so fine **it would have gone nto a pint px £,”’ as we say in England, “sprefty as paint,” ing as & man. I bought her to fill the place of one of my horses that had fallen lame, intending 10 sell her when rone had recovered : she was what is called a “blood weed, ’’ that is, me bred for racing but on trial not ound speedy enough for the turf; a class that make the best of light driving horses for Vets’ work as you can’t kill he was as and as the othe them by any amount of fair work. On breaking her to harness she proved #0 tractable and knowing that 1 made up my mind to keep her and can tell you she grew into my affections in a way that mone but horsemen can understand. However, | want to tell you about her tricks an! cunning ways. One morning while ha ing breakfast, Juck, my stable lad, came in and said, “Master, do you know what Pet has been doing #'? “No ; has she hurt her- self ¥' “No, she was put in No. 3 box last night as she had had a hard day and 1 bolted the doors as usual and this morning after feeding her she started to play with the bolt of the bottom door, pulled it back and walked into the shoeing forge (almost every Vet in Eo- gland keeps a shoeing forge for the benefit of his customers), and one of the men asked me what 1 wanted done at her; when I told him she came of her own accord, he said, ‘she knows better than you what is amiss ; look at that foot, the shoe is broken and one half is off ;* well, the men shod her and then she walked back into her box, quite comfortable, as if she knew all about it.” Another time as I was driving her through a small country town after dark, some chidren ran across the road right in front of her; one fell and I was badly seared, as I ould not pull up in time to save the child form being hurt, however, Pet broke her bearing- rein, ana absolutely picked the child up from under her feet, enrried it like a dog would for a few yards, stopped, and sst the child down as carefully as if she was a nurse, You should have heard the crowd cheer her, and seen the AA SARI. Ar ——— out L did not know the road, I slack- i ened the reins and said : “now Pet, go home ;’ well, sirs, that mare turned right round and went back nearly two miles, then turned into 8 narrow lane, 1 made sure she was wrong but let her go on, but she was right after all, as she brought me home as straight as if it had been broad daylight, A few weeks after this, I had occasion to call ata farm to see some horses suffering from influenza, of a very contagious form; uniuckily I drove Pet, and as usual did not tie her but left her free as she was in the habit of standing still without hitching ; this time she followed me to the box door where the worst case was, and being busy, I took no heed of her until [ had examined the case, when I moved her and tied her up while I saw the other patients. A few days after this, Jack, the stable- lad, came to me and said Pet was not eating ; had left her breakfast and seemed very thirsty ; on looking at her I found her sick from the same kind of disease as the patients | had seen a few days before when she followed me to the box, Although I treated her, and gave her every attention she gradually got worse, and one afternoon I found she was dyin ; as I petted her, she turned her eves on we with a half hu- man expression of affection in them, put her nose on my shoulder, rubbed the side of her had against mine and seemed as if she wanted to speak ; it made me feel bad, for she had been a companion to me when on the lonely country roads seeming to know all that to her and returning in her petted way all the caresses I gave her. As she got weaker she straddled her legs so as to stand up, but at last she fell gave a sort of sigh or two and died. 1 was senti- mental enough to have her taken out of the town where 1 lived, and buried instead of selling her carcass to the horse some years, I think I would do the same again. C.B. Bostock. M. R C, V. 8. Veterinary Surgeon - sm. So —— A Great Emigration Scheme. sssap— An Ottawa (Can.) despatoh to the New York Sunday Times says: The British Government has decided to officially undertake to aid Irish emigra- tion into Canada on a colossal scale, The proposition made by President Stephen, of the Canadian Pacific Rail. road, on behalf of a syndicate of Cana- dian interests, has been practically abandoned. Stephen offered to settle 50.000 of Irish poor in families of five each upon stocked and equipped farms in the neighborhood of Winnipeg, pay- ing all the expenses of and settling them (yovern- ment loaned the syndicate moving providing the £1 000 000 without interest for ten years, dicate in turn to take a mortgage of £500 upon each farm, without interest for the three first years, and at 3 per cent, after that, the settlers to have the option af securing thelr holdings in fee simple at any time upon the payment of 8500, The British Government at first favored the proposal, but Catholic priests in Ireland opposed it so strongly that the Cabinet finally refused to en- tertain the matter unless the Dominion Government guaranteed the repayment of the loan. Sir Alexander T. Galt, ex-High Commissioner to London, and Sir Charles Tupper, his successor, both endeavored to secure this guarantee, but failed, owing, it is said, to the opposition of Lord Dufferin, who has strong faith in the future of Canada, and who bent his energies to secure direct action on the part of the Govern- ment in favor of the largest possible emigration to Canada, The Canadian Government having finally decided to lend no official in- dorsement to any railway schemes of immigration, the British Government took up Lord Dufferin’s ideas, and decided on undertaking to carry them out. A special conference was held at the Mansion House, and after a long discussion on elaborate scheme of as- sisted emigration was resolved upon, based on the principles of the United States homestead laws, The details of the scheme sre not yet ready to be placed before the public, but it has been decided to remove from Ireland and settle in Canada 200,000 of poor Irish people in familiss. Lands will be divided into sections of 100 acres, each section te be provided with all buildings, equipments, animals, seed and food necessary for the beginning of farming on unbroken land. Each settler will be given the use of his homestead free for the first three years, and after that will be required to pay #8 rent 3 per cent. upon $500, but may at any time acquire absolute title up onpayment of the latter sum. nw ———— so ~] say, Paddy,«that is the worse looking horse that I have ever seen in harness. Why don’t you fatten him up?’ “Fat him him up, is it ? Faix, {ale ureuat’e on him now,” replied * the syn- ¥ res semsmeme—————, Culinary. Swerr PickLep Beers, —Boil them ina porcelain kettle till they can be plerced with a silver fork ; when cool cumber ; boil equal parts of vinegar and sugar with a half tablespoonful ef ground cloves tied in a cloth to each gallon ; pour boiling hot over the beets. COFFEE ICE CREAM, —Make a cus tard, without any flavor, of a pint of cream and four yelks of eggs. Put into this four ounces of freshly-roasted Mocha coffee berries; they should, if possible, be used hot. Cover up the stewpan closely with its lid, putting a napkin over to keep in the steam, Let the custard stand for an hour, strain and sweeten, and when cold put it into a freezing-pot. Cream thus prepared will not take the color of the coffee, and when carefully made is very delicate and delicious. Coffes ice cream is also made with a strong infusion of coffee. To make the infusion, put two ounces of ground coffee into a French cafetiere and pour over it a gill of fast boiling water. When the infusion bas all run through, boil it up and pour it over two more ounces of coffee, Put the in- fusion thus obtained to a pint of sweet- ened cream or custard an. freeze, EGo-PraxT.—Cut the egg plant in slices a half-inch thick, sprinkle a thin layer of salt between the slices and lay them one over the other, and let stand an hour ; this draws out the bitter prin. ciple from the egg-plant, and also the water. Then lay each slice in flour, put in hot lard, and fry brown on both sides. Or boil the egg-plant till tender remove the skin, mash fine, mix with an equal quantity of bread crumbs, add salt, pepper and butter, and bake for thirty minutes. TasTELESS JELLY.—~Procure one- third of a pound of ivory dust and boil it for eight hours in a quart of water ; when done strain through a jelly-bag. It can be flavored, but its main use is, that being highly now ishing and at the same time tasteles, it can be introduced in tea or coffef, and unknown to the OATMEAL WATER, — Brown a suffici- ent quantity of coarse meal, before the fire or in the oven, and pour over it boiling water ; cover it close and use it cold. This is considered very useful for stopping sickness. Lemon WaEY.—Take milk and water, a pint of each; add to it the juice of two lemons, and let the mix- ture boil for five minutes ; strain and add sugar to taste, Recommended for a cold. EGG-PLAST (STUrFED).— Take half a dozen ege-plants ; split them in twe, lengthwise, and scoop out the interior until only a mere shell is left ;: salt these and let them drain. Chop the interior of the egg-plants with three onic then with some chopped mushrooms and parsley and a few crumbs of fresh bread ; sea son well with salt, pepper and nutmeg : then bind with velks of half a dozen eggs, Fill the body of the egg-plants with this stuffing ; cover them witha few bread crumbs; put them into a roasting-pan and wet them with a little sweet oil ; then into a quick oven for about ten or fifteen minutes to give them a nice color, BanLey WateER.—Wash 2 break- fast-cupfui of pearl barley twice, once in cold and again in hot water and throw away the water ; then put the barley ints a covered quart jug with a very thinly pared rind of a lemon and a small piece of sugar; fill up the jug with boiling water; let it stand till cold. and pour off clear without strain- ing it. To make thick barley the bar- ley must be boiled. Sort Crass Friep.—Fhrow them into boiling water aad let them boil ghout ten minutes. Drain and dry them well, and remove the spongy flesh or “dead men.” Season with pep- per and salt, dredge lightly with flour, and roll them in bread crumbs. Fry them in boiling lard, a——— > The Consul and His Wife. A Protestant Bshop who bad just been appointed to a missionary see in China wished to pay a visit of ceremony to the Taostai, er Chinese official who was in charge of the city which was en- trusted to the Bishop's spiritual care. Asthe British Consul, who was to aceom- pany him, would be in uniform, the happy thought struck the Bishop that it would be well for him to appear in his episcopal robes and lawn sleeves. This was carried out, to the great be wilderment of the Tao-tal, who had, of course, never bebeld anything simsilar, He treated his visitors with the usual as render butter ;. add the yesterday ; but, tell Why Was ve
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