an IREEAVES.
All day the reapers on the hill
Have plied their task with sturdy will,
But now the field is void and still;
And, wandering thither, I have found
Tue bearded spears in sheaves well bound,
And stacked in many a golden mound,
And while cool evening suavely grows,
Aud o'er the sunset’s dying rose
The first white star throbs snd glows,
And from the clear east red of glare,
The ascendant harvest moon floats fair
Through dreamy deeps of purple air,
And in among the slanted sheaves
A tender light its glamour weaves,
A lovely light that lures, deceives—
hen swayed by Fancy's dear command,
Amid the past I seem to stand, :
In hallowed Bethlehem’s harvest land
And through the dim field, vague decried,
A homeward host of shadows glide,
And siekles gleam on every side.
Bhalows of man and maid I trace,
With shapes of strength and shapes of grace
Yet gaze but on o single face
A candid brow, still smooth with youth;
A srangquil smile; a mien of truth—
The patient, stap-oyed gleamer, Ruth }
ee —————————
AN INNOCENT DEOBETION,
WAY. it is delightful! Absolutely pers
feet, Mr. Tregarvis!"1 never saw a
wore splendid view! How kind vou
were to bring me here,”
A grim, rock-bound region on the
Notth, Cornish eoust; inland a grace
ful steel-biue river, bounded by verdant
pes and a stately grey bmw among
its terraces upon the banks, ‘I'lie house
was peculiar in its a~chitecture, as well
as its solitude; and May Probyn’s blue
eyes, after wandering over the land.
scipe, came back to dt
“] ris is a handsome placel”
Her companion, a bandsome, stal-
wart fellow in 8 miner's suit, seemed
averse to replying; but his grave glance
grew gloomy to severity.
“Do you Know who aives there, ¥r
Tregarvis?!’ she asked,
The young man answered the ques
tion with reluctance.
**Nb ong at present, 1 believe.”
After a moment, He added:
“It is called the Grange,”
Phd irl looked up at her companion
quickly. _ 4
sar dandlndy 401d me its history
esterday,” ‘‘How theowner, Squire
ferschioyle, died there last year; that
his only child had married against his
will; that he ra¢éived her child when
she died, yet always hated the, father,
who was never alowed to see the boy,
who grew up-as heir to the property;
yet Ins graadfather quarreled with
him on his dying bed, and left his
beautiful estate to the daughter of a
brother, whom he had not seen since
infancy.”
The young man's grave
was a study in its play o
he looked at the girl.
“Did sha tell you what the quarrel
was about?’’
“She did not know.”
Oswald Tregarvis spoke slowly,
“The Tather was a good, but dnfoc
unate man. He gave up the boy with
reluctance, at the prayer of his dying
wiley He deprived himseit
humble but upright life he lived solis
tary. But when the son was of hge he
made himself known to him. The two
men came to love each other. The
grandfather had never shown affection
for thé boy, whose heart starved in his
breast through all his youth "for a little
lowe, 2 » ’ on
The young man paused for a nos
ment, thén went on again,
“His father Lad been a miner in his
routlh. He returned to a superior
rafel of it In his old age, and sta-
tioned himself near his boy. There
was no hope tbat the grandfather
blonde face
{ emotions as
dearer to each other. Then came the
old man’s long, last sickness,
called his graudson, and biddin
repudiate his father's na
his, informed him what he
hiumbis sole heir. - The you
In every other way 1 have tiled
to please you grandfather, buf tifis I
cannot do.” The old man may Have
and take
made
oan re-
them, but Ris ahger was terrible. He
turned the g he had Bever be-
fore had eause to reprimand oul of the
“Do you keow whit he did’ thea?”
“Joined his father, went« into. the
mines, and worked with him.”
“He was very brave. The grand-
father was unreasonably cruel.”
The young man hurried fal from
the rock against which he h d “been
he cams to
that Rr “8 todielt
his will, bequeathing the Grange to
him'in ase of his cousin’s deaths,
Iam afraid,” be added, with a i
upward glance at the lowering clouds
above them, “itis going lograin; you
cannot sketch today.” §
The girl gla
took up the satchel, containing artists’
materials,
up bere ‘another time,”
rocky slope
man
4+] ean come
she said,
‘vows The two went down the
a
fair curls showing their crispness under
the simple cap. :
May man fleetly up the old staircase
to her mother’s room, and Oswald went
back to his labor,
He walked and worked with a mus-
ing eye, It had cost him something,
stirred him painfully, to refer to his
experiences, He was not in the habit
of speaking of his misfortune,
His unjust disinheritance was a sore
gpot, which he was fond of probing.
Aad 2 new thought haunted him now,
which he tried to put aside; and, leay-
ing his monotonous task, began to talk
with the men about a proposed blast-
ing of rocks, for which a heavy train
would soon have to be laid, i
“You'll be careful, boy--eh? Blast
ing is dangerous work,” said a bent,
little man, mn a low tone, at his el-
Ww.
“I'll be careful, father,” with a rare
gmile. “We shall not be ready for a
few days, anyway.”
But when work hours were passed,
the haunting thought again took pos.
session of him, his blue-eyed girl,
whom he had known but a brief month
—he loved bier!
After he had parted from her the
truth broke upon him. How fair ana
sweet she was, and how fragile! Who
should wih must keep oc@refully this
delicate flower, though May Probsn
was far from believing herself not
strong, and, indeed, had a peculiar
elasticity of constitution. It was rather
a tenderness and sensibility of nature,
which seemed to need protection, and
the fostering care of love.
4 Did he read aright those eyes of
blue? Had he found favor in the'r
sight? .
The thought wade his countenance
luminous for a moment; then it grew
downcast,
He was a poor and homeless man,
He had no wish to wed one he loved to
such misfortune. What would any
woman gain by giving up her freedom
and independence to marry him? He
could not support a wife in comfort.
He would never ask this girl to live on
the wages of a mining overseer,
How lovely she was in the Sunday
calm of tne next day, walking slowly
along the pretty path of the old garden,
among the tall red holiyhbcks, in a
match her eyes!
He walked by her side, The atten-
tion with which he regarded her did
not discompose her. It was part of
May's chang that she seetsd qu te un-
conscious of her beauty, and unaware
of its effect pon others,
asked; “that the heiress of the Grange
is ‘going to take immediate
a
“1 have not heard.” And
*It does not matter to me.”
But something matiered,
down wearily when
rustic seat under an old tree,
“The housekeeper told Mrs. Lord,
our landlady, that they were expecting
Miss Verschoyle this week, Bat per-
haps you do not like to talk of this?”
“["do not!" he answered, "briefly.
He missed her glance of sympathy,
but Le felt that she pitied” him; vet,
she could 90t know how the world
seamed chaos aboul Nal
~ Wauld he had paver been Born if the
best things of his life—afféetion home,
wife must ‘be denied him “He loved
this girl! he wauld love ug other, and
vdded,
He sat
1
reticent face of Oswald ,Tregarvis be-
trayesd little, <
Day by day he fought hs fight. Tias
Miss Verschoyle, this utkpown cousin
of his—how fortunate Was shel
He recollected that he would be ex-
gl to call on her. “Ah, that was
asking too auch! Though he ned have
against her. He had heard
He bel'eved
was. an orphan. Yes, she was
(XE
so Round and round went the weary
cirele of tiought. There was nowhere
yelief but in the depths-of toll in the
mings, Physically wearled, he would
spend kis nights in slesp” instead of
thought.
Ab leagtly cane the day appointed
ior blasting the. huge mass of rocks
Fwhich obstructed the opening of an-
other shaft. The task was his, and
the trust ai ortant one.
e teiin jal apd the locality
clesp@d, No need $0 Wain those who
were familiar. with the danger of such
an explosion, bat a look-out must be
kept for persons unconscions of the
peril. :
Xet all seemed as it should be. The
sure red spol was creeping Lh. fhe hill
on ils way to the powdlder-lilled drills
Fahe explosion would cone, nd no one
ments of rock. “is 3 v
: ‘Gathered in knots st intervals of
, the gnen waited for the
rible report of the blast,
Suddenly a handl grasped Oswald's
aii EE
“Look there, boy!” whispered old
Murs Tregarvis, honasaly.
Oswald followed his father’s point.
ing finger to the top of the hill,
A. yamand figure stood there.
id did mot know who it was,
He ‘only saw that she had come over
the hill from the other side, and
ing, had turned to look back, over the
landsca , He saw, too, that the other
ge is at fhe foot of the hil," he
Dogs! Call to
het
ou "catinbt do it.
tore o
pn
A AEE PAP)
grandfather's heiress! Only one little
instant he lingered, but in that brief
time Satan made a bid for his soull
“She does not heed—she does uot
understand!’ he ered, his voice breéak-
nj suangely.
hen he was off,
Ho was a swift runner. He bad a
powerful voices, too, and he used his
legs and lungs with the desperation,
The distant shouting had failed to at-
tract the girl's attention; but as Os-
wald came aeross the Held, she turned
her head and looked at im. 4
In that instant his voice failed him;
but his wild leaps brougut him to her
glide,
“May! are we too late?”
His ery, as he snatched her up, was
ambiguous; but she grew white.—
She clung about his neck. Speechless-
ly he bounded down the rocks she had
lately elimbed so leisurely, Roots and
Lbrasches snapped unter his stron
tread, Once he slipped, and it seemec
as if they would be whirled to the bot
tam, but clasping his precious burden
ti hier, the young man bounded to the
hill’s foot, and springing into a cave,
lost his footing ac last, and fell, as the
whole world seemed drowned In the
volee of the exnlosion,
Hestruggled up,
*‘My little darling! ave you hurt?”
“No, no! But you look so dread-
fully—ssxOh, what is the matter?"
He told her,
She could scarcely be whiter, when
she understood what her peril had
been; but her broken words confessed
her love with her gratitude.
“Sweetheart! pure soull’”” he sobbed,
“1 ‘am not worthy of your dear love,
Buta moment ago, I had the beart to
let you perish, 1 thought you were
my grandfather's helpess,”’
And so I am. Dear Oswald, will
you not share my good fortune with
me?"
“Youp»
“1 am May Probyn Verschoyle. 1
have played a little ruse, II was a
harmless on You will forgive me, 1
wanted lo Know you, and I did not
want you to bate me at the siart,
Come; here is the carriage; let us go
and look at our home together.”
How could he resist such soft be-
guiling? And, indeed, there was no
longer any need to deny his heart,
eh ————————————————————————
*$iaif » Dollar At Least.
Ee ass.
A stranger who got into the Union
swileh locomotives had not aman at
work in the flour sheds seized him and
pulied him off he track, The stranger
for a moment, but after he had taken
a seat on the plat (ru and got his breath
he cailed out:
“My mao, that was nobly done, |
suppose you can make use of $5,000 in
cash?”
“Well, parhiaps.”’
The stranger brestbed Leavily,
rubbed his arm and after a minus con-
tinued:
“Yes, I feel just like making you a
present of a thousand dollars,”
his first observation, but it wasn’t for
the nour-rolleriofind fault, Ile brushed
away at the stranger's hat to gel the
dust off, and ashe banded it over he wis
informed:
“1 think vou would know where (0
put a nundred dollars if you badd it,
eh?" .
“L want sothing, sir. You were
dager, and 1 pulled you away.’’
“But I shall insist upon your ace
cepting something. You certainly
saved my live, and I shouldn't begrudge
$25."
He got out his wallet which wa
crowded full of bilis, and as he handled
them over he remarked:
“Ten dollws would buy your wile a
dress, and every Lime she wore it you
could think of we.”
Yes mir,”
The bill came’ oul bul was quickly
replaced, and after 8 minute spent in
somes mental calculation, the stranger
all at once handed out a $2 bill with thie
observalion:
“Iere, my man, go aud get you a
pew hat, and ret assured 1 shall ever
be grateful vo you."
“Then it was seen that the laborer
was painfully embarrassed. He shifted
from one leg to another, looked up and
down the shed, and wnen asked the
trouble he replied:
“Please, sir, but haven't you any
small change about you? 1 think a
quarter would be plenty of reward for
saving your life.”
“A quarter? Well, considering the
radroad pays you for Lhe time
you were hau
5 around, anaybe
that is enough, Here 18 is and 1
in
-
again, you can look for half a dollar at
least,”
tine of the Legends of Caps May Poin,
There are somo old reminicences of
Cape May that are quite interesting to
our Neues; na them this may be
apropos: Ab bis rears ago, what
is now Known us ay Point was
Under the control of Hon Downs Ed-
munds; some of his workmen found
one day on the marled surface of trees
Pam. The signs created a
lo ent, and ’
’
ey
To
They found marks :
which directed Sham 10 4 certain spot,
now within a few feet of Lily Lake.
Mr, Miller carried ths money rod. At
od It 4s | as he could
bo oi lie a a ha nt ety
men like Sowers,
le Blaskos Bo Easily.
- romeiniagor
“But didn’t you see him blush?”
“Well, what of that?"
“Don’t you think he was lying?”
“No, I don’t. I know he was telling
me square truth *’
“Do you know the circumstances?”
“Yes, and I know he told them just
ad they were,’
“If sounded like a lie anyway. ’’
“That is why he blushed,” said Mr,
Denison, for this talk was taking place
in his law office just after the departure
of a young man who had been sued and
was seeking advice from his attorney.
“I venture to say no man has had
more trouble than I with blushes, and
1 think I know some of the causes be-
hind them. You may have noticed
that I blush on every conceivable occa-
sion, If a question is put to me quick~
ly, I blush, If I meet a friend slap on
the street—unless I see him some time
before I reach him—I blush, If any-
body speaks my name from behind or
frown some unexpected quarter, I blush,
As much as I have been before juries,
cate refers to me as ‘the “irned coun.
sel for the defense. Hang it! I blush
on all sorts of occasions, and yet I don’t
believe anybody would say 1 am an es
pecially modest or bashful man.
“No, sir.” continued the old attorney,
“J have blushed and blushed all my
life, and the more I blush the more [
try not to to, and the more I try not to
the more I blush, Above all, the mean.
&8t blush is just such n one as you saw
on that young man’s face just now. I
know just how he felt. He knew he
was telling a pretty hard story, and he
could see in your face that you didn’
believe him, That's why Be blushed.
If he had been talking to me alone he
would not have blushed, because he
knows I am familiar with the circum-
stances he related; but you looked
doubtingly at him, and he feit your
mistrust so keenly that it brought the
blood to his face.’
After a little pause Mr, Dendson cop-
tinued: *I never pay the least attention
to blushes when examining a witness,
The blush is not, as is too often bellev-
ed, the evidence of a lie. Nor is it a
true signal of embarrassment, I know
that, for I have been told that I was
blushing purple when I was as cilm
and unembarrassed as I aw at this mo-
ment. There are many causes for my
blushes; some of them purely physical,
I think; but often when I am telling
something—soma little personal recol-
lection, perhaps, that amounts to npoth-
ing--I get it in my head that somebody
doubts some part of it. Then 1 blush.
Then 1 feel that 1 am blushing, and 1
say to myself: Now he will see me blush
and will be sure to think I am lying,’
and that makes me blush all the mue,
until finally I can feel my face bum
and glow like a coal, and I say to my-
self: “Now he issare ] am lying, and
he thinks I know be issure of it,’ and
s0 I. stand and blush because I think
he doubts me until, perhaps, I really
make him doubt we bécanse of my
blushes. **
—
Sen Monsters.
The kraken i¢ deseribed in an ancient
MS, (about A. D. 1180) attributed to
the Norwegian King Sverre; by Olaus
Magnus (1553); and by Christian Fran.
cis Paulinus of Elsepach (1643-1712).
Ponloppidan’s work was published in
1751, and Mr, Lee, supporting what he
says by quotations, describes him as a
conscientious and painstaking investi.
gator, who did his lesb to separate
truth from falsehood and exaggeration
and who wrote in a modest anid candid
gpirit, The e which Mr. Lee
notes, and which 15100 long for repro-
uetion here, contains a desegintion of
ihe krakeu gathered fod the reports
of the fishermen, who from time to
time seen il; and, allowing for exag-
geration, it agrees clofely enongh with
the deséription of a gighntic entitle.
fish,
Pontoppidan, getting confused in his
genera, show nevertheless, some
shrewdness when he wrole that “‘as this
enormous sea-animal in all probability
may be reckoned of the pol ype or of the
starfish kind, as shall ter be more
fully proved, it seems that the parts
that are seen rising at its pleasure, and
are called arms, are properly the ten
tacula or feeling instruments called
horns as well as arma.” The Bisho
went on to Lament that, as there seéme
little hope of seccumtely obferving a
live kraken, nobody iad embraced an
opportunity which onoe cceurred of ex-
amining an entire dead specimen. This
opportunity he had heard of from the
Rev. Mr. Friis, Minister of Bodoen, in
Nordland. !
Mr. Friis related that ““in’ the year
1680 a krake (perhaps 8 young and
foolish one) came the water that
haus et wien the rockaand elif s ip tiie
wg; though the gene
cfistom of that creatine 15 to Keep seve.
ral leagues from land, and therefore, of
course, they must die there.” This
row" passage and
the comments on t
known te do any great harms, except
they have taken away the pi those
who consequently could not bring
tidings. ’’ cv
fe
to discriminate between friend
foe, and ultimately becomes very
1
of what Mr. Lee has to teil us about
the octopus (of which he says that an
ordinary; specimen may very well ‘be
dangerous to bathers) and its ten-armed
relatives, we come lo the fact that no
octopus {s known to have attained such
a size as is necessary to account for the
kraken, and which is perhaps more im-
portant, that it does not tb on the
surface of the sea, but hides and skulks
in corners beneath, ‘‘Sepia might pass
as a microscopic miniature of the great
Scandinavian monster, bat lacks the
attribute of size, There is no reason to
believe that any true sepia has a body
more than eighteen inches] Asto
the existence of gigantic calamaries,
there is pienty of evidence, which, how-
ever, Mr. Lee fells us was not finally
accepted either by naturalists or laymen
until in 1873 two specimens were en-
land, and a portion of ons and the
whole of the other were brought ashore
and preserved for examination by zoolo-
gists,
The first was seen hy tW0 mus 2080
off Belle Isle, Conception bay, y
took it for a piece -of wreckage, &nd
struck it with a gaff, upon which J
shot out two tenacular arms as [£10
seize them, They severed the arms
with an axe, and the vreature moved
off ejecting the inky fluid. They de-
scribed its body as being 60 feet™in
length, and said that when httacked it
reared a parrot like beak as big as 4 six-
gallon keg.
Reconstructed by Professor Verxill
from the fragments preserved, the crea-
ture’s body is shown to have been 10
feet in length and 2 fest 5 inches in di
ameter, “Long tentacular arms, 92
feet, head two feet, total length about
44 feet.” The six-gallon keg beak
would be about three inches long wn the
upper, 14 inches in the lower mandible,
About three weeks later a smaller cala-
mary of the sane species was caught in
a herring net in Logie and brought
ashore entive, but for the loss of its
to cut off; and it is noted that they had
great difficulty in dispatching it. Doth
specimens were preserved by the care
of Rev. M. Harvey, of 8t. Johns, New-
foundiand,
Es ree tigi
The Old Time Doctor,
The old doctor who years ago was
such a great man in Arkansaw, has re-
tired from practice. Hig old saddles
Bags hang on the quilting frames ander
the shed, and his grand-children peel
apples with his surgical instruments,
The bones of his old horse have been
used as a fertilizer by some progressive
Yankee, There was a day, though,
when the old man now so gray and fee-
ble, was strong, almost as stiong as the
medicine he carried, His word was
law in namervus households, Quinine
aod calomel were the only medicines
fof which he had any respect. When
these medicines failed, it was thought
time for the patients to call on a higher
power for naturalization papers in an-
other hemisphere. The lancet was a
great factor. If aman was shghtly ill,
bleed him, If he was dead, wait
awhile. Bleeding was a mania among
the doctors. It taged like an. epidemic,
If a man had his left arm torn off, the
next thing was “‘souce’” a knife in has
right arm, It did not seem to enter
the minds of these “old timers’ that a
man needed blood, With them, flesh
ight enter the Kingdom of Eseulapius,
but blood was excluded,
gested to several physicians with whom
he was holding a consultation that it
would no doubt be betier not to bleed
the patient any more. The old physi.
cians looked at the young fellow in
amazement, and one of them found
breath to exclaim.
“What
“Isaythat 1 dont think that it
would be a good idea to bleed hima any
more at fpetent.
The old physicians looked at each
other, and sorrowfully shook their
beads,
“Upon what do you base this wild as-
sertion, sic?"
“1 base it upon comtoon sense. The
patient was suffering in the first
from loss of biood, thén we bled him,
and now, I say, that it- would be betler
to wait until he is able to stand another
drain upon his system.”
“He i8 hopelesdly insane,’ said one of
the doctors, meaning the yo fellow,
“I don’t know that his case is. hope-
jess,” one of the party replied, ‘bat (it
goon will be unless humediate action Is
taken, Ie needs bleeding,” and they
seized him and cuba hole in his scalp,
All of these old fellows have retired
{rom practice, with records red with
the blood of their countrymen. They
have not become jeconciled o the new
‘and Jess boisterous mode of practice,
and even now, if one of them should be
ealled upon, he would have his knife in
the patient in jess than five minutes,
mn A AISI
— Petrifida Oysters.
: sl ii
Nite Tawrence Bis
natural History bureau of the Jib-boom
Jub New London, Conn., with a euri-
ous freak of nature. It is a branch of
white birch, covered
i»
YOO YOR THOUGHT.
Prejadice is the reason of fools,
Health is the vital principle of bliss,
Yaith Is a higher faculty than reason.
Ii we build, gh, let us begin low
and deep.
Discretion of speech is more than
eloquence. . :
Splendor and extravaganceare masks
for poverty.
crack the nul.
He has hard work, indesd, who has
nothing to do.
Truth becomes sffective by frequent
contemplation.
The figsb and worst of all faults is to
cheat ong’s self,
The great aureole encircles only the
brow of the dead,
Choose the path of virtue, and im-
tate a high pattern,
As every thread of gold is valuable,
$0 Is every minute of time,
Advice is seldom welcome,
who need it most take it least,
I've heard sunning old strangers say,
fopls for argdinents Hse wagers.
"Prosperity 18 no jast scale; adversit
‘is Lhe only nee to weigh friends,
Selest’ a worthy object in life, and
bend all your efforts ju that direction.
The weakest spot. of every man is
where he thinks himself the strongest,
Women are happier in their illusions
than in their most agreeable experiences
Knavery is suppl and ean bend, but
honestly = firth and upnght and
not.
The Progress of rivers to the ocean i»
not 80 rapid as that of the man ft
error,
Petty singularities: are peonfs
little mind, instead of an originality
genius,
That action is best that procures 1
greatest’ happiness for
numbers,
The more we do, the more we can d
the more busy we are, the more leisu
we have,
No principle is. more noble, as
is sone more holy, than that of a tru
phedience.
A certain amount listrust
| wholesome, but not so much of othe
| as of ourselves,
He who is the most slow 152
piemise Is the ost faithful in the per.
formance of it,
Neyer let vour zeal outrun you
charity, The former is but human the
latter is divine,
Sorrows are like thunder clouds: h
the distance they look black; over oul
heads hardly gray.
If ye do well, to your own behool
will ye do it; and if ye do evil, aginst
yourselves will ye do it,
Where we may nol pe able lo ex
tirpate an evil, 1} 1s still our duty to d
what we can to lessen it,
Steadfastly set your face
needless delays in doing any no
the good of your fellow men
To judge of the real importance
an individual, ope must think of
effect Lis death would prod eK
Taketsp one by ene ihe plain, peacti-
cal duties that lie nearest to hand
perform them ns fast a8 possible
A wike may stands firm in
fremities, and ‘besrs the
humanity with a divine temper.
Those
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True goodness is like the glow-wor
lin this, that it shines most whe:
eyes except those of Heaven are
it.
Weigh not so much what men as
as what they prove, remembering
truth is simple and naked, 30d n
pol invention to apparel her comelis .
By desiring what is perfectly good,
even when we don’t quite kfiow what
it is, and cannot do what we would, wi
are part of the divine power against
evil.
Alas! if the principles of content.
ment aré mot within us, the height of
station and worldly grandeur will as
sooni add a cubit to a man’s stature as
to his happiness.
Doubt has been the great discoverer,
To question an old lie is usually the
first step fowands the truth. Itisan
act of heroism to dispute a moss-grow:
error out of existence.
Profanity never did any man the
least good. No nan is richer, happier,
or wisér for it. It commends no one to
society; it is disgusting to refind people
and abominable to the good.
A wise and good man will turn ex-
amples of all sorts to his own advan
tage. The good he will make his
patterns and strive to equal or excel
them. The bad he will by all means
avoud,
Try to repress thought, and it is hike
trying to fasten down steam-—an explo
sion is sure 10 follow. Let thought be
free to work in its own appropriate way,
and it turns the machine, drives the
wheels, doss the work.
‘Experience keeps a dear school; but
fools will learns in no other, and scarce
in that; for it Is tre. we may give
adviees bat we cannot give conduct,
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