THE OLD SPINNING WHERL. Broken, dismantled! would that it were mine. T would not keep it in that dusty nook, Where tangied cobwebs cross and inter twine, And grim old spiders from their corners look. From distaff, band, and polished rim, are hung The dusty meshes, Black the spindle is, Crooked and rusty—a dead, silent tongue, That once made whirring musie—there it lies. 0, dear to me is this forsaken thing! I gaze upon it, and my eyes grow dim; For | can see my mother, hear ber sing, As winds the shining thread, and whirls the rim, Bo sweet she sang! her youngest on her Knee, Now a warble, now some fine old Sublime, exultant, full of victory, Triumphant as the songs of seraphim. hymn, Sweet toiler | through her life of crowded Cire, While grief came oft, and pain, and wea riness, tie prayer, Till death came claspl CATess. i ng with his cold Beside She sings no more. the chimney wide No more she Above her grave I'he snow drills RTOW. Years come and upon the lone hill si lie, the spins. ie SU LL INGr grasses A HARTI A SLR MDB, MARKEBY'S REVENGE. When the Aunnerly’s discovered that Mr. Samuel Marbky, whose acquaintance i on the Continent, Kept brie shop in Bond street, a hey found them- tion upon card of It was only that Ms, A } lo RK up nisi i 4 L \ ' Was equi to thelr own, Hel invitation + return Lo town, sen to a dinner upol the hum Both and indignant, especially 158 Annerly, 1 thie Mr. Were aloud. to atone i a stating th UnGer a mies dis i Any truth, she had rather Markby's i when they ly b of Fitilg SECO Ig i 7 3 ' 1 had been, mm, and declining {Oo renew She Cale terms, feel ) misunderstanding in the hitess cut Mr. 1 Lhe ciearest ard avoiding WO express without i any AMIKDY dead M rt Vady { Nees ill in ana iu when street s they chanced t £4 3 aorily There is had Just cause to comj neriys' conduct; but he had been Wis a pleasing manners and appearance; bul, 1 U6 Li Of good-looking young How EU being suobbishh enougn Lo feel ashame} i of his busing a5, Lie al Ways endeavored to couvey the impression that he was gentleman at large, T g told the Annerlys no iies : himself, he carefully i CoOLCeAivg L 3 gerd Ought he ue But Sam that he was in any way to blame for the unpleasantness that had occurred. rage and were the more espec that Miss affections, indignation unbounded, ially Amy had consider with as ne tritled slight 14 1 y had i after being cut by them took the earliest oppo put ¥ in the street hs chance of picking up a tion that might be useful to him. human nature on a vast haviug interested motives, he followed had a brother once—a regular bad lot, The last I heard of him was that he was quodded for forgery, and 1 believe he is still alive,” “You don’t say exultingly, Mr. Montagu seemed a good deal sur- prised at his young friend’s evident sat- isfaction; but he asked no questions, and Sam shortly afterwards took his de- parture with a radiant countenance. He was a vindictative little man, and J he hurried off to concoct some scheme of revenge based upon the discovery he had made. But, though the secret of Mrs, Annerly’s origin seemed at first sight to furnish promising material to { work upon, he found a difficulty in | utilizing it to hs satisfaction, The { Aunetly's had attained too firm a foot- | hold in sccieiy to be easily assailed, and { though it would do them no good to | have it spread about that Mrs, Annerly | was the daughter of a publican and the | sister of a returned convict, the scandal 113 so!’ exclaimed Sam, The consequence was that or oated over the compromising | secret for some months, while waiting i for an opportunity to turn it to account, | Meanwhile he cherished his resentment, i [ for he was one of those morbid-minded | materially, {| Sam 1 individuals who brood over their wiong | and never forget an injury. i At lecgth the newspapers a | engage nt of Miss A Ann | young Lord Reavely, the Earl | woods SON | was intensified by a ny me thrill of jeaion 3Y discha ae his venom. The occasi { promising, for it was hardly li { Lord Reavely could be awnre of Anner'y's As for | Earl. Sam was convinced from what 1 him that he would 1 | had his son making such a mes antecedents, heard of evel { cansent t liance, he prospect thereby aming | the 1¥8 in general time g giving Ci well-kno at the West thus circumstance {h ALY have sun oly wuses were closed against him, but in | club and on the turf, and, | neutral ground he was rather px than etherwis vise, on Accot and bis { IDANDEers i humor. It occurs Algernon mn the eyes d to Sam ght ea vailed upon other, Lhe Earl, and generally nake things un- Anneriy’s. He knew 10 love lost between him and nephew, so that the prospect of nterfering with the lad’s not be likely todeter bh LO open to * Was 1 WOouk iin, obliging man in the ual in London society whose private affairs he did net know something about, and Sam not unreasonably hoped that he might have some knowledge of the Annerlys. Mr. Montagu received him in a perfectly easy and patural manner, for Sam was in the habit of intrusting him with his spare cash to invest on profit- able terms, as his father had done be- fore him. “Well, Sammy, my son, what brings you here?’ inquired the great man, pat- ting his visitor affectionately on the shoulder with his bejeweled hand, “Not business this time, Mr. Monta. gu. I want to havea little chat in a friendly way.” “By all means, my boy. What is it?” said Mr. Montagu, cordially, “Do you know any one of the name of Annesly?”’ “Anneriy! Annerlyl There was a young Annerly who came here once fo renew a small bill he had backed. He paid up all right. 1 bel’eve he is now in India with his regiment,” said Mr. Moutagu. “That is the family I mean. I know the son is in India,” said Sam “But 1 want to find out all about the old peo- ple. Old Anuerly lives at Lancaster Gate, and is something in the city.” “Oh he is all right! Good for any amount! You needn't be afraid,” said Mr. Montagu, reassuringly. “You don’t know anything against him. then?’ said Sam, biting his nails, “No, I don't!” returned Mr. Monta- gu, looking surprised; “nor any of his family, for that matter. Dy the by. you know who Mrs, A. was, of course?” “Mrs. Annerly! No! Who was she?” inquired Sam quickly. whe was the daughter of old Tom Rogers, who kept the ‘Silver Grid’ in Fenchurch Street years ago. You wouldn't think it, would you? 1'm told the Annerlys move in tip-top society, But ber father died when she was quite a child, so I suppose ske has cut the connection,’ “Then it seems she hasn’t got much to be proud of after all,’ said Mr. Markby, spitefully. “Only a publican’s daughter! She gives herseif the airs of a Duchess,” “They mostly do, my B03 When they come from nothing, By the by,” ad- ded Mr, Montagu, thoughtfully, “‘she well acquainted with him to feel no hesitation about paying him a visit, Lord Algernon always made a point of being pleasant and affable to gentle- men of Sam Markby's peculiar line of When he called he received him in his bedroom, where he was un- dergoing the process of shaving, and be greeted his visitor as familiarly as though be had been his dearest friend, At a sign from his master, the well trained valet placed a box of cigars and a ligeur stand at Sam's elbow and dis. appeared, *What is in the wind, Mr, Markby?" inquired his Lordship, affably, “I called to make a communication of a private nature to you, my Lord.” said Sam, with a shade of embarrass ment, “Oh! said Lord Algernon, glancing approvingly in the looking-glance at the reflecetion of his valet’s handiwork, “Well, take a cigar and a glass of cura coa, and fire away." +1 hear your nephew, Lord Reavely, is going to be married,” remarked Sam, as he availed himself of Lord Algernon’s hospitality, "Miss Annerly is the young lady’s name, 1'm told.” “I don’t know much about my nephew's affairs, but I believe that is s0,” said Lord Algernon, lighting a cigaretie, *] suppose Lord Bestwood is not aware that the young lady's mother is the daughter of a publican and the sis- i ter of a conviet,” said Sam, endeavor- ing to look unconcerned, “No, by Jove!” exclaimed Lord Al- { gernon with genuine surprise, ‘‘you don't say so?” Sam proceeded to give Lord Alger. pon all the information he possessed, and as hefhad taken the trouble to verl- fy Mr. Montagu's statement, he was able to convince his Lordship of the accuracy of his assertion. “Well,” remarked Lord Algernon, aoolly, when he had finished, “all I can say is, it is devilish lucky for the young lady that my brother knows nothing of all this” “1 suppose the Earl would forbid the marriage,” said Sam, eagerly. “Most certainly; and 1 don’t think Reavely would come up to the scratch, either,” said his Lordship, stroking his business, dyed moustache thoughtfully, i ! i “1 felt it my duty to tell your Lord- ship.” remarked Sam, rather crestfallen at Lord Algernon’s demeanor, *‘before it was too late.” “Too late! Oh! you think I ought to interfere, eh? said Lord Algernon with a curious smile, “Of course I don’t presume to advise or suggest; but imagined you might consider it advisable to do so, my{Lord,” anid Sam, endeavoring in vain to hide his eagerness, “After all, the Anner- lys are marrying into your family under false pretenses, as it were,” “Perhaps you are right, Infact, up- on reflection, I think I ought to open my brother's eyes, One owes something to one's family after all,” remarked Lord Algernon, sententiously. “Quite so, my Lord, Besides, minded of their proper position,’ said Sa. “Yes, It would be impossible to con- ceal the reason tor breaking off the watch. said Lord Algernon, with meaning glance, **I suppose I may take it that 1 should be rendering you a ser- Mr. Markby,” he added Vide, also, “Well, my Lord, I don't ing, between you and me, that I owe Annerlys a grudge,” acquiesced gly. and 1 thought you JIOW it." “I am. Mr. Markby. The is true, neverth less k nore I TE it 1s sald hough Sam fant Lord ed “However, safely atter i ied i ' ade You Iay n my hand el his fort us, B t+ hanline stl L iMieye « PECOTIZLINS 5 all I've friends, fact, in publish out.’ “Naturally, Then, I suppose it longer a secret,” said Sam, exultingly “About the engagement being broken offf Not the least. As regards the other thing, we don't want it to get into the papers for own sakes, mentioned 3 { ral wit self + are bound the reason for RHeavely backing mutual “ryder t OIE. is no But the | Anneriys will soon find people to know about it.” i Sam felt strongly tempted when Lord | Algernon had departed to write a letler of mock condolence to Miss Annerly, | but he had sufficient sense of decency to | refrain. His satisfaction was complete | when he heard the Annerlys had sud- | denly left town, and he considered he had effectually revenged himself. It] never crossed his mind that Lord Al- gernon had played him false, and con- | sequently the announcement which ap- | peared in the papers shortly afterward | of the marriage of Lonl Reavely and | Miss Amy Annerly came upon him like a thunder<clap. The ceremony had | taken place down in the country, and among the guests present at the wed- ding Lord Algernon Todd's name was conspicuous. Before he could realize the meaning of his lordship’s conduct, he received the following note from Mr, Montagu, which clearly explained the situation: Dean Say: If you know where to lay your hand on any of Lord Algy Todd’s paper, buy It immediately, either on your own account or on mine, I hear on the best authority that Mr, Annerly, whose daughter was married the other day, is going to pay his debts, Between you and me, I fancy Lord Algy must have got hold of that scan. dal about Mrs. A. and done a good stroke of business. Ever thine, “lL. MM." “So you wish to marry my daughter, well, I rather like you personally, but the question is ean you support her?” “1 have an income of §8,000 from an uncle's estate,” “Good; that will pay the rent of a ’ house, “1 get $7,000 more from bonds which I own,” “Good again; that will pay the ser- vants' wages.” “I have 85,000 a year from a busi. ness firm of which I am a silent pari ner.” “Yes, that will feed you, What else?” “That is all, sir,” “All And do you expect my Jaugh- tor to go without clothes? Do you think wo are Hottentots? She can never be Brown as a Detector, “In that a good half dollar?” asked a gentleman of a friend as they entered a Chicago cigar store, The coin had all the hvertisemouty of a spurious piece, It looked like lead, felt greasy and sounded dead when thrown ou the counter, Withont waiting for an awswer the gentleman said: *‘I had some fun once with one of these pieces, I was clerk- ing once in 8 bank at Aurora, a good many years ago, and there was a man whom I will eall Brown, since hs is not here to defend himself, who used to 'oaf about the bank and stick his nose in everybody's business, He was a dreadful bore, always getting off silly ittle practical jokes on others, but { never tolerant of the slightest joke on | himeelf, One day Mr. Bradley, the { cashier, and Mr. Rand, who has since | been mayor of Minneapolis, fizod up a {1ob. I was to go out and pretend to | make a collection, bringing back one of | these half dollars, which had been | provided, I went, and when 1 returned { I banded the money over the counter & | Mr. Bradley. { ‘Here,’ said he, holding up the bad- | looking coin, ‘what kind of money do you osll this? ‘‘At this Brown jumped up, as we thought he would, and, looking at the coin, began to laugh at me sud jeer me | for not knowing more than to take so | bad a counterfeit as that, “1 said I thought it was good money, Brown said I was a fool, Then Mr. Rand came up and agreed with me, “Well,” said Brown, ‘I'm ashamed of you, Rand. A man that has hanaled millions and mllions as yon have ought to know just a little something about money,’ “+ do,’ said Mr. Rand, ‘and that's why I say this is a good piece,’ “I'd bet £1,000 it isu't good mouey,’ said Brown, “All night,” said Mr. Rand, taking up a peu and writing a cheek for that amount, ‘1 lake the bet,’ “Both checks were Brown asked: “ “Who is to decide? * ‘You may,’ replied Mr. Rand, peel- ing off the thin foul with which the good coin Lad been carefully cov ered, “‘Brown was the maddest man [ ever Ob, he ripped He us a set of thieves who had con- to rob him, aud said he would r leave his money on the bar of written, when $i sil EAW, Aud swore, called | spired raf he 4 beer saloon than trust it to our keep- any longer. As he went out door he slammed it spitefully and walked toward another bank, He re peuted, however, and left his money with as simply | he knew it was judicious from a fi aucial point of view. Io a few days he learned that Mr. Rand never hed any idea of Keeping his gi O08): but for three or four months he did not loaf about the bank. Then he fell back to his old habits and we played avolher trick him, It locked like the same trick, and Brown was giad to play the | part Mr, Band had played wfore, But this time it was really a counter. feit half dollar covered with tin foil I'he rage that followed Brown's dis- covery of this second trick on hiw was a lasting one, He pever came 1uto the bank except on urgent busi- ness after that, and then he was very short with us and never smiled,” -—-— Weira sighias, ng ng the because on pi i marvel is gh perform- 1 uninhabited house Hammond yundary between Wareham M If the of vanous respectable people are O8LIY 3 Tieng? Te olnesiead, adieboro, ARSE is, the new outbreak beats month near the Westiield in the same This old farm-house, for years without a tenant, stands in a wild and lonely spot, a half-mile or more from false iy ¢ Last ¥ and Cheshire boundary, It is an old New England farm-house erected over 100 years ago. two stories characterizes such structures, The old farm-house has been the scene of frightful crimes, Many years ago (says committea In a room of this house, and five years later a young and beautiful girl was murdered and her headless body was found in the cellar. No clue to her murderer was ever discovered, and as time went on, the horrible deed was forgotten, only to be recalled by the recent remarkable phenomena which are said to be witnessed here, It has been but some three weeks since the manifestations commenced, and those who have investigated the phenomena are entitled to much confidence, The first was witnessed by a party of age, who, day after day were obliged to pass and repass the house, They report seeing a young and beautitul lady dressed in black, rush out of the house, closely followed by a man who held in his hand a heavy piece of wood, When but a few stepsfrom the door the young lady suddenly turned round aod faced her pursuer, then knelt down, and, with uplifted hands, implored him not to in- jure ker. The man, wot appearing to hear her supplicatioas, whirled the stick two or three times over her head, and with fearful force brought it down upon the poor victim’s head, prostrating her to the ground, The man then quickly took the body up in his arms, re-entered the house, and was seen to go down the cellar, As soon as the two were lost to view, the most distressing cries were heard, as though coming from a multitude of fe- male voices. The children say that they were frightened at first but that afterward they seemed to be magnetized and could not move; but after the man had, as they said, murdered the victim, and when he had entered the cellar, they all seemed to realize what had transpired, and when the mysterious eres were heard, frightened almost to death, they ran for their homes, which they reached in an exhausted condition, All available means were at once taken to ferret out the so-called phenomena and ascertain, if possible, the truth of the children’s story. A party of citizens the following evening visited the old homestead, tak- ing up a position in the woods near by, where they could have a commanding view of everything that transpired within and without the house. The party consisted of eight young men of the village. Suddenly the house within was brilliantly illumivsated and forms, both male ahd female, were seen Lo pass and repass the open window, The ex- citement in the place seemed to be in. tense, and the most unearthly shrieks were distinctly heard. Suddenly all was dark in the place and a death-like quietude reigned for hall an hour, when all the apartments from the ccliar w the garret were again all ablaze, The young men then started for the house on a run, but when they came near the manifestation ceased and all wus dark again, William R. Luce, who resides near Middleboro line, a few evenings since, was passing by this old house when be noticed the bright light within, Think- that tramps had taken possession of the place, he observed several females pass and repass the door, Boon they were seen to proceed up the rickety stairs, into the apartimertabove, After a while he heard a scream and the body of a female was hurled down the stairs amid fearful shouts from the Mr. Luce sprang from and quickly when inimnates, the vehicle {to the | suddenly the light was ext all death (58 4 S100, was not cited he real be a when i pr eoded HOSE wis as still as Mr. Luce Over wiat tragedy he fis } ‘ LERES : S030 investigated 0 cupied, { tT tn 3 HAYLE vesn ng house Prine } papers and let re ] SEE RERE ihile i to him as 50 much as mer of his from midsu iat the sul id. » reminds you o §i4Y i, difienng 0 £ nN the and the still dreamy alr tel hs at ively that they are { rinter. Taking a je meerschaum f 1 and bands his visit Leaning he turns toward you hifal in- ds Lo sinoke, or a box ol cigareiies, 1 huis chair, ull, deep gray eyes, at once thoug g, and lined to listen than to talk. The con- versation drifts from one subject to another, and it 1s only when some chord which interests him is struck, that you catch a momentary glimpse of the va ried knowledge, the rich cultivation, the genius and power which have made for him so great a name on both sides of the Atlantic. sn A 55505 —— $y i SINS hore Jars of Gold Pleces, Harrison Raymond lived for many yearsin Hinckley, Medina eounty, Ohio, and amassed considerable property, most which was in cash. He would not trust his money to the keeping of a bank, but hid it about his own premises keeping the hiding-place secret even from his own family. A short time ago he told his wife that he had hidden about $30,000 in money and that pretty soon he would inform her of its whereabouts, so that, in case of his death, she would know where to look forit. He neglected to do this and about a week ago he died of apo- plexy. After his death an examination of his papers showed that he had $335,- 000 in money all hidden about his pre- mises. The most thorough search failed to reveal the hiding place, and the widow began to despair, Then she was impressed with the notion that if she prayed with faith the Lord would direct her to the place where the money was hidden. On Wednesday she prayed all day and all night. On Thursday morning she was impelied to go to the bee-hives, which stood on a bench near the house, and in the excitement of expectation she knocked over one of the hives, disclos- ing to her view the top of a bench with a pile of greenbacks of large denomina- tion upon it. A search under the other shive resulted in finding a total of 15,. 000, In the afternoon one of the family dropped a bunch of keys through the barn floor, which necessitated taking up a plank to find them, and when the young man put his hand down be struck half<a gallon fruit jar. which he pulled out to find partly filled with $20 gold pieces. Other jars and a grain bag were also found containing gold and silver, and when it had all n counted the total amount figured up over $213,000, The widow was overjoyed, and in her statement to the correspondent said she believed that the discoveries were in direct answer to her prayers, FOOD FOR THOUGH. Chance usually favors the pruden’ Iron ehain or silken cord, both are bonds, To know how to wait Is thes ‘great secret of success, A long face is plaguy apt U long conscience, One always has will apply it well, The word *“impossible’ is the mother tongue of little souls, Fellows who have often all eyes and ears. time enough if he no tongues are Honesty provides the most certain conditions for saf ely. king without thinking is sho ont taking aim. The way to forget our miseries is to remember our mercies, A increases his knowledge, ve man makes himself greater as he 4 ned to common ser “a providence, Exper ence 196, to mortals is r i8 about as scarce in the n a dog kennel, meiod OR Are those th eo made more sweet, liifortune neve whom good for we at peace future; th Content that turns all He t chance, Lif SOB O6LY at wher ye may dance, fri fiw e like the +% ¥ ifn “4. va taal FOTAUG and eRled., The vears write den eye Can see, We mast, if we calculation in our life, and what we shall spend now, and what we shall keep for the future, Purpose characler; letter of it, is blunt and torpid, When once the lake is cased heat from below cannot warm face; only the breath of heaven bring life and motion. As we distrust the sincerity of travagart expressions of friend so do we that of ostentatious profes- sions of religious fGdelity. A good man and a wise man may al times be grived with the world, but no man is ever discontented with the world if he does his duty in it, Sober-sense, self-possesson, and in- telligent self-conrol are the safeguards of head and heart, and make a beauti- ful temple for the soul We were sent into the world nol only to enjoy ourselves, but to do our best to make those under our influeace good and wise, strong and happy. Despise not any man, and do not spurn anything; for there is no man that hath not his hour, nor is there anything that hath not its place. No cry ls ever more pleasing to the divine ear than that which comss up from hearts which sorrows have made conscious of sin and helpfulness, The name of God is the believer's harbor; where he may betake himself as boldly as a man steps into his own house when overtaken by a shower, Character, judgment, virtue, unsel- fishness, mastery of one's self--it is these that tell in the long run, far more than the most brilliant qualities, A believer hath so much opposition in his way to glory, that he had need be well-locked into the saddie of his profession, or be will soon bs dis mounted, There is an unfortunate disposition in a man to attend much to the faults of his ogmpanions, which offend him, than to their perfections, which please him. All changes, to be permanent and improving, mast be gradual. Leaps and jumps are not successfully taken either in wental advancement or in moral character, There is nothing which helps us so much to feel that our lives have been worth living, as the humble but grate ful consciousness that we have helped some other soul to fuliii its destiny. inner ci wise, make some “4 3 AE 3 # of edge and point is the superstition on tae Character, without 8 the in ice, its sur- Cali f ex- 3 Ness,
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