THE INVITATION,
Come to the trysting tree:
8it "neath its boughs with me*
There I will tell to Thee
Legends 80 sweet
While in the sylvan glad
Songsters of every shade
Join in the serenade,
My love to greet.
€ome, with thy sparkling eyes,
Bright as the starry skies,
Glowing with glad surprise
Tender and true.
Cheeks pink with blushes rare,
While in the perfumed air,
Light gleams thy silken hair
Golden in hue.
Then shall thy bosom swell,
Woo'd by the tales 1'11 tell
Tales lovers know so well;
Aud in thine ear,
Whispering sweet vows to Thee,
Of my heart's constancy,
All ‘neath the trysting tree,
This shalt thou hear,
SES RTS
BESS.
It was twilight in Yosemite. The
crest of the half-dome lifted upward
into the sunset fire was wrapped into
crimson flame. Among the amber bil-
lows of light the snow-white peak of
splendor, and the
waters of the upper Yosemite fell down-
gloom below.
Earthward the silence fell and the
dream-land below seemed hushed in
the eternal quiet of the spirit-land
above. Like a great giant the shadowy
dusk arose from the earth and made
war with the god-like sun.
his face behind the purple ranges, and
night lifted the misty fingers of the
dusk and laid them upon the slopes of
amethyst and gold.
On the shadowy trail leading to
ing upward to the peaks of splendor,
Her eyes seemed never to weary of the
changing views, for many times in her
ascent had she
bridie of her horse falling idly from
her hands and her fair face wrapped in
a thoughtful glow. But at last she
seemed to awaken to a realization of
the coming night, and, springing into
he saddle, urged her horse toa faster
gait,
Through the quickly-gathering sadows
of the woods on one side of the path,
slmost precipitating the rider from her
saddle,
“Were you trying to break my neck,
James?” she asked, shaking her finger
wairningly at the small aparition. If
you were, you well-nigl succeeded."
“Oh, no, Miss Bess!” apswered the
young scape-goat, with a grin, “I've
been watching for you this long time,
Let me take your horse, Miss Bess,
I'll tend to him splendid and see that's
all right for you in the morning.”
Thanks, James," she said, dismount-
ing and throwing him the bridle, ‘take
bim along and I'll follow.”
James led the way, chatting all the
while after the fashion of loquacious
small boys, It was not many moments
before Bess knew all the news of the
Point. even including the hotel,
stupner. George Manro, the stage-
driver. said he was an artist, "cause he's
things. He saw 'em, and besides, he
gays he's traveled an awful lot—szeen
the Alpines and all that.”
“The Alps, you mean,” said Bess
absently. She was scorcely heeding
the boy's gossip yet she had a vague
feeling that it would be a rare pleasure
all of Nature's moods,
The hotel at the Point was a very
or polish.
the guest chambers had chinks in them
communion with another,
place was as clean as the labor of
hands could make it, and though the
ous repast, he was regaled with the
most palatable of home-made dishes,
And what the hotel itself lacked in at-
tractiveness was amply compensated for
thousand foot precipice, Nowhere from
sny point adjacent to the valley could
there be found a view more sublimely
beautiful than this hotel commanded.
facing the grand peaks of the High
Sierras, snd within sight of the far-
famed Vernal and Nevada Falls, it was
a site that even a king might have envi-
ed for his most costly palace; and
and calling had gladly partaken of its
humble hospitality for the sake of this
feast of grandeur.
Bess was a school-teacher in the
fittle village school in the valley—a
prosaic occupation truly amid such sub-
{imity, but circumstances had forced
her to accept the position, and she fill-
ed it with grace and dignity. Though
born aml nurtured in the mountains,
Bess was not without culture, for her
father had been a man of learning and
she had always been fond of study and
reading. Added to this was an innate
refinement that gave her dainty ways
sud a gentle grace.
Mrs. MoCOanley had always taken a
motherly interest in the motherless
girl, and rarely a week passed that Bess
did not a day or two at the
Point. And in return for Ber warm-
bearted kindness of these good people,
she gave James, their eldest son, gra-
tuitous instructions in the rudiments of
tnowledge.
At the first streak of dawn Bess was
awake the next morning, and hurriedly
dressing herself, she seized her Latin
grammar and hastened down the stairs
and out into the bracing air, She had
never missed a sunrise at the Point dar.
ing any of her visite there, and thi
morning she sought her favorite seag,
.
on the slope in front of the house, with
a feeling of gladness. The soft breath
of the pines came through the forests
with a rare sweetness, and it gave her a
thrill of joy to know that the vast soli-
tudes were hers to love and enjoy.
Soon a roseate hue spread upward
from the east, Krom peak to peak
crept the glow, until the whole upper
world seemed bathed in the rosy
splendor. Wreaths of yapor faded
away into golden mists around the
mountain tops, and downward into the
dark, mysterious valley, a violet glory
fell reflected from the peaks and slopes
of snow. The foaming waters of the
Merced, dashing over the granite walls
of the valley, caught the reflection ere
it faded, and precipitated their seeth-
ing torrents over the cliffs in a mad
whirl of iridescent beauty, The voice
of the pines and the music of toe falls
made a grand harmony that swept like
a mighty hymn through the wast
nature. No other sound
day
Motionless, filled with a
devote herself to study.
Suddenly she was startled by a foot
behind her.
was surprised to perceive the form of a
stranger, He lifted
princely a grace as if she had been a
duchess.
“In the free-masonry of these upper
gsolitudes I suppose I may be barbarian
not?” He did not wait for an answer
but handed her a card.
A warm flush crept over her face, but
ot a gentleman that she could not take
offense,
Fletcher,” with some confusion, but
answered with a grace equal to his own,
“Certainly we are so remote from
little.”
«May I sit here?’ he asked, pointing
sitting. ‘I want to make a sketeh of
that bit of green forest yonder, and
this seems the happiest spot in which to
make it."
“She gave assent, watching him with
a shy interest as he took out hissketch-
book and proceeded to work,
“Are you a native of the valley?” he
inquired between the outlines of his
sketch,
“No, but Ie was born in the Sierras
and have lived all my life among these
mountains,”
“Indeed! Then you are truly to be
envied.” He turned and looked at the
girl beside him. She had the ingenu-
ous face of a child, healthy and glow-
eyes full of startied wonder. Truly the
passions of the world had never touch-
She was a child of nature,
and the pure, fragrant breath of the
pines had made her strong and beauti-
ful,
“May I ask what you are reading?”
“] am studying Latin,” she answer-
ed, demurely.
An amused expression flitted across
his handsome face. So you mingle
the conjugation of Latin verbs with in.
comparable sunrises, do you? Happy
thought, that!” Then he was silent for
a moment,
“Do you live at the Point?”
“Oh, no! I teach the village school
in the valley.”
“Indeed?” He lifted his eyebrows
with a surprised expression, ‘‘A school
teacher?” ‘Not a severe looking peda-
gogue.” he added, mentally, a smile
passing over his clear features. Then
handsome eyes, How fair she was in
the warm splendor of sunlight, her
rounded cheek rested upon one small
hand. A school-mistress indeed! He
For a few moments there was silence
between them, in which she appeared
lost in the mysteries of Latin and he in
the high lights and shadows of his
sketches,
- “Breakfast
is ready!” sang
AWAY.
walked toward the heuse with Beas,
dom which well suits a Bohemian,”
After breakfast he took his sketching
woods. Several bits of beautiful land-
fancy and a genial voice that seemed
to mingle it cadence with the solemn
music of the pines. He did not return
until late in the afternoon, and it was
with a vague feeling of disappointment
that he learned that Bess had gone.
Somehow she seemed to have taken all
the sunlight of the Point with her,
A week later he was riding through
the valley on his way from the Vernal
dashed past him, The slight figure of
the fair equestrienne seemed familiar,
and on the impulse of the moment he
pursued her. Halt way through the
valley she reined in her horse and turn-
ed ner head to catch a glimpse of her
pursuer, A pleased expression dawned
upon her face as she saw who it was,
Then she extended her hand with a shy
smile as he rode close to her,
“Nero and I were taking a canter,”
she said. “I never dreamed it was you
following me so closely,”
“I am a Vv ungallant knight, 1
must admit,” he said with a rare
courtesy, “but pardon me and I shall
not be so curious again,”
“It did not vex me,” she murmured,
smoothing back the tangles of brown
hair from her flushed face and fasten-
ing the pins more securely in the heavy
braids that the wild chase Lad nearly
unloosened, Then as the ludicrous.
ness of their mad race dawned upon
her she laughed with a blithe hearti-
ness that was contagious~the fair
haired stranger laughed, too, in his
careless fashion, and they rode down
the dusty road together, feeling that
they had suddenly become good friends.
He watched her with a keen admira-
tion, How interesting she was with
the soit, warm color coming and going
on her bright face and her eyes lifted to
his with their child-like grace, He
tossed back his fair hair with a sudden,
impatient gesture. What a splendid
plaything she would be to a man who
bad the time to win her! Then he
almost cursed himself for the thought,
A very child she was with no shadow of
the world upon her. Could he ever
have the heart to throw its blight
across her pathway or drag her into its
flerce turmoil of passion and pain?
No! he turned his face away from her
and spurned the tempter,
And Bess, riding along slowly in the
golden sunlight, wrapped in the peace
of her own heart, knew not the sudden
battle that was raging in the heart of
this proud stranger,
By the side of the beautiful Merced
| noon, with all her school-children
about her, when Harold Fletcher made
| hid this ecol, shady nook from the road.
“What a charming picture you
make,” he said smiling, ‘‘and is that
| wreath for yon?”
| pose,” she answered, looking at
wreath of yellow primroses with an air
| of good natured resignation, Bhe was
| reading to the children and they look-
| less eyes,
“Don't let me interrupt,
| upon the grass a short distance from
| the little group, with his back against
| a towering oak, *‘‘Go on I entreat,
| a fairy-tale.”
He leaned against the tree with an
through his half-closed eyelids,
{ fresh beauty filled his artist’s soul with
a rare delight, No wonder the village
| people called her ‘‘beautiful
How like a child she was among the
{ children, Yet the mother-heart
lives in every true woman showed itself
iin the foud caress she gave the blonde
| ourls of the child who had thrown her-
self at her feet and had fallen
asieep with Ler tired bead pillowed in
Bessie's lap.
“Strange creatures these women are,”
thought Harold lighting his cigar and
puffing it languidly, “How this girl
wastes her time on these stupid child-
ren!” “Yet, meanwhile, he would not
have her a whit less womanly, a trifle
less unselfish, Only he half envied
the slumbering child the touch of the
caressing haod and the warm love that
flashed between the pages from Bessie's
soft, dark eyes.
Oh, for one brief second of child-
hood-—for one sweet breath of inno-
cence like that! The man of the world
turned his face to hide the wave of
bitterness that crept over it, Conld
any little golden head ever res: against
| his heart and not feel its restless throb-
bing? Ah, no! the very thought was a
bitter pain. And Le dismissed it with a
frown on his clear-featured face. He
was oontent to dream away the hours
fossting his eyes upon the graceful
head of the young teacher, aud thiok-
what a glorious model she would
make for his new picture, which he in.
tended sending to the exposition,
“Pask,” that was name of it,
and he would paint her with the child-
{ren all abont her and her eyes filled
with startied splendor. In the shadowy
veil of her hair he would imprison
faint golden stars and in her white
hands a crimson rose, typical of the
fading sunset, What a beautiful pie-
ture she would make} All the world
wonld wonder,
He was aroused from his reyerie by
the voices of the children. ‘They were
going home, *‘Don’t go,”
| Bess as she picked up her books pre-
| paratory to following them.
| sefish enough to wish to he entertained
| also,”
Ing
the
in his voice which she could not resis”,
| snceumbed to its wonderous fascination,
feet,
The sun set early in the valley, and
ere they reached
| suadows were falling.
“Good night!” he said holding her
fluttering hand for a moment in hisand
| bending his proud head to look into
her velvety eyes, ‘‘good-night!” There
| was a longing in his eyes she did not
soc—a longing for her pureness and
| beauty, But he set his teeth hard and
| strode away through
shadows towards the hotel.
For a long time after he went away
Bess stood with her hand upon the gate
{| the silent world above, and not until
Dome,
enter the cottage, and even then,
though there was a bright fire upon
the hearth and a tempting supper upon
the table, there was a loneliness in her
heart ghe could not conquer,
The weeks passed by and yet Harold
Fletcher made no effort to leave the
valley. His friends at howe wondered,
but he wrote them that he was accu-
pied with his sketches of the valley and
they were satistied. He scarcely dared
acknowledge to himself the spell that
held him there, In Bessie's pure eyes he
had found an earthly Eden, and he shut
has heart to all the great world beyond,
whose waves of caro and sin and sorrow
beat so fiercely against his white-walled
paradise,
But his dream was a short one, On
reaching his hotel one evening » letter
was handed to hum which filled him
with a sudden despair. In the privacy
of his own apartment he read its con-
tents, It must have been a strange
message, for a hot flush orept over his
face and he threw the letter to the ficor
and ground his heel upon it. A faint
perfume floated upward from the orush-
od paper, the odor made him faint, He
threw open the main door and gasped
for air. Then with a bitter smile at his
sudden weakness he took the missive
and burned it slowly in the flame of the
candle, watching 1t with eager fascin-
ation, A shadow seemed to rise from
the ashes wrapping Bess in its dark
rr | IE AN
folds and shutting out her pure eyes
from the sight,
The night passed away, and when the
morning came it found him worn and
weary. He had pot slept and there
was ® strange pallor upon his face,
After break(ast he sent for a horse and
rode away to the still heights of the
mountains,
have given him strength and calmness,
for he came back at noon with a quiet
smile upon Lis fine features, All his
restlessness was gone, and in ite stead
was his usual non-chalant grace,
He passed the little school-house,
but Bess was not there, He inquired
of her aunt at the little cottage and
learned that she had gone to the Point.
another horse, It was sundown when
tecred the information that Bess had
the Point proper,
pelow. It required a clear head to
It was a sensation from
which many a man had recolled with a
feeling akin to terror. It made the
brain
of fear in her dusky eyes.
thinking of the miniature paradise
God had
beautiful,
ever created a spot more
jut slowly the last gleam
The High Sierras
yet the little valley beneath was losing
itself in the dusk. Only a faint golden
reflection lay upon the calm bosom of
the Merced river was touched here and
there with ripples of gold.
Fearing to startle her, Harold called
her name softly. She turned, and a
glad smile of welcome lit up her face.
the precipice,
“Queen Hass,” he said, smoothing
the hand that lay passively in his own.
“I have come to say good-bye. Day
after to-morrow I must leave the
yalley,”
“No!” a shiver of terror swept over
her and she crep nearer to him, ‘You
will not go.”
“Yes.” He the head
drew brown
silken braids of hair,
her pain was not greater than his own,
«You will never come back!” Bhe
{ifted her head and looked him full in
the face, *'I know it.” It gave him a
pang of
face had grown
quivered.
Yes, I will, Bess, I swear it!
these enternal heights of God, with
silent mountains to bear me wit-
I swear that 1 will come back to
and how her
on
the
ness,
you. ,
She turned her face away and said no
more, She did not question him,
Ab, if she could only have known
how he clung to her stainless love,
How it washed all the sins of his man-
hood awsy and made his own heart
pure for the sake of the white lossom
that nestled there! For her sake ho was
going back into the world to renounce
all its glittering joys; for the sake of
this red-wood blossom he was going to
cast away tho beautifal rose of sin
whose crimson petals had lured him on
to a bitter sorrow,
3ut he dared not tell her this—this
fair girl who looked into his eyes with
all the pureness of her childhood yet
upon her, with no thought of the
passion of sorrow that lay in his heart,
over the precipice into the dark abyss
The August moon was lighting ali
the peaks with a white splendor when
moments had flown by unheeded.
music and the giant pines nodded their
heads in the moonlight with weird
shadows in their swaying depths, In
the midnight silence of her own room
she looked out upon the still, white
world and shivered. In that vast soli-
tude so close to the shining stars she
no calm to her troubled, human soul
Even the nearness of God could not
sweep away that awful sense of loneli-
ness and terror.
The next morning Harold Fletcher
was off by daybreak. He could not
bear the sight of Bess again-—the
passionate misery on her pale face
would have turned him from his pur
he,
News of a frightful accident reached
the valley the following week—but
with the stage at Madera bad been
the Western papers:
A young snd beautiful actress well
dent. She was found suffocated in her
berth. 1t is said she belonged to a
proud and wealthy family in the East but
a strange perversity led her to forsake
her home tor the stage.
Just a line or two, but Harold
Fletcher shivered when he read it.
“Yes beautiful,” he said, crushing the
paper between his hands with a look of
remorse upon his white face, “but it
men's souls.” Then he laid the paper
down, hoping Bessie's pure eyes would
never fall upon it. In his own heart
the tragedy was hidden, and more than
this the world never knew,
The summer away and the
autumn osme with its brilliant beauty.
The leaves in the valley turned to gold
and soariet, and the snow fell in the
mountains, changing the emerald slopes
into fields of glivtering white, Bep-
tember died in a crimson flame and Oo-
tober followed in her footatops, mournful
and beautiful, With her frosty breath
sho killed all the lingering blooms pi
pathway, wrapping all the valley in a
still, white splendor.
Then bess grow weary of wailing,
where, so it was out of sight of those
summer,
to the tread of hundreds of travelers
Alone she walked beside the river—
alone she markrd the blood-red sun as
peaks,
She grew to dread the pale stars that
shone above the shadowy heights at
night and the splendid moon that turn-
ed the granite cliffs to silver. Bhe feit
like a prisoner shut in by walls of
adamant, and she grew paler with each
sun that looked upon the white-walled
valley.
ut at last Harold came—came,
through the still, white forests that
even at mid-day were full of ghostly
shadows, to meet her,
Again he took her in his arms and
pressed the brown head close to his
heart. There was no shadow of sin in
it now. Long hours of pain and suffer-
ing had purified it for the coming of
her pure, sweet love,
jut she had no words for him, not
even of reproach or questioning, Only
the dumb sorrow in the shadowy eyes
misery upon her white face told him of
the weary waiting.
«My little white blossom!” he cried!”
my pale little flower of love, how 1
have made you sufter!”
3ut he did not tell her his own
misery, of the long illness that had
been nigh unto death, and the dark
passion that had burned itself to sashes,
No! all these things he could not tell
to the tired child who rested against
his heart. The white flame of ber love
had led him out of the darkness into
the heaven of peace, and he could not
east one shadow upon her.
Every man has a past,
Does he
No, he holds her sacred and lifts her
above the level of his own passions and
follies,
He stooped down
kiss upon
and pressed a
her white brow,
Jeaves the valley to-morrow and I shall
take you with me into my world. Are
He searched her
eyes for truth,
“Nol”
A warm glow crept over her lifted
face and a glad light into ber splendid
eyes, ‘I would be afraid to stay
without you,” she answered. And the
man who had doubted every woman
before her lcoked into her trutbful
Two weeks later, the circle of friends
in which Harold Fletcher moved were
made breathless with astonishment by
the fact that he had brought home a
bride,
“A beautiful creature,” women
whispered, ‘with a lovely mouth and
splendid eyes. Dut what strange peo-
ple these artists are, 1 y think of his
going to the Sierras for a bride!”
-——-
A Bussian Wedding Feast,
jonable confectioner’s. Nothing 1s
wanting—silver, crystal, flowers and
lasters laden with eandles of the purest
wax. The young married pair occupy
seats sbout the middie of the table, the
parents supporting them on both sides;
the rest of the company take seats ac-
cording to the degree of relationship or
rank, If they want a grand dinner
they order a ‘‘geperal's” dinner, which
costs 830 more than an ordinary one,
At this dinner, so ordered, tho master
of ceremonies invites a real old pension-
ed-off general, who is received with all
the reverence due to his rauk and seated
in the place of honor, He is the first
to drink to the health of the young
couple, and is always helped before any
one elee.
absolutely necessary. Ho is there only
for show, and he does his best, in re-
turn for the $20 paid him. He never
refuses a single dish of all the thirty
or more served on such occasions.
As the last roast disappears from the
strikes up, and huzzas resound from all
parts, But here comes the bride's
face, saying that his wine was so bitter
that he could not drink it until she had
kisses; each kiss not only
with roars of
the dinner comes the ball and
They lead him
once every half
Alter
“‘the general's walk.’
through all the rooms
at 3 oclock in the morning, all the
young girls and those who dressed the
bride take her away to undress her and
put her to rest; the men do the same
by the husband: The next moraing
the house of the newly married couple is
again filled with the crowds of the
evening before, The young wile 1s
seated in a drawing-room on a sola
with a splendid tea servioe before her.
One after the other approaches her and
salutes her. She then offers tea, coffee
or chocolate, according to the taste of
the visitor, She is throned for the first
time in all the splendor as the mistress
of the house, The most intimate
friends remain to spenl tke day with
the young pair,
wom AIR INS
To raxvexr the incursions of mice
strew wild mint where you wish to keep
the mice out, and they will never
trouble you,
Planets in October,
- EE —
Mereury is morning star thronghons
its records ; for in his course he will be
visible tothe naked eye as morning star
He
or most distant point from the sun, on
Jupiter is morning star, and is a con.
fair rival, Venus, The paths of the two
planets lie near each other during the
month, and their approach,
most charming exhibitions that the
er to marshal on the mghtly plain when
the glittering hosts bestud the sky.
after Venus, As be is apparently mov.
ing westward and she 18 moving east
ward, it is easily seen that with esch
successive rising the space between
thern will lessen until they meet. This
event occurs on the 6th at eleven o'clock
in the morning, when Jupiter is 1° 15
north of Venus, The planets are in-
visible at their nearest point of ap-
proach, but they will be near enough
together on the 6th to make a fine
appearsnce on the morning sky. They
will rise at pearly the same {ime, about
two o'clock, will be the brightest object
in the firmament, and will continue to
be wigible long after the other stars
On the morning of the 7th they will
present a new aspect, for they will then
have changed places, Jupiter being west
instead of east of Venus, The distance
between them will continue to increase
as each planet travels in its appointed
course in an opposite directiom from
the other,
Venus is morning star,
fair to see, though her soft light is
growing dim, Her path during the
month lies so pear that of Jupiter that
the history of the one planet includes
that of the other, The two principal
actors have a companion of lesser re-
nown. The first-magnitude star Alpha
Lieonis, or Regulus, is a near neighbor
of both Venus and Jupiter during the
first part of the month, the yellow star
contrasting finely in tint with the deep
gold of Jupiter and the soft tint of
Venus, The fair planet is in conjunc-
tion with Regulus on the 7th, at seven
o'clock in the evening, being then 55
south of the star. A: this time the
bright trio will be almost in line, Jupi-
ter being farthest north, with Regulus
nearly between him and Venus,
Saturn is morning star, and as he
rises now about half-past nine o'clock
in the evening, will soon be in conveni-
ent position for observation. His high
northern declination and increasing
brightness make him a prominent object
snd one easily recognized,
Neptune is morning star, and is 1
good position for telescopic observation.
He may be found in the constellation
Taurns about seven degrees south of
the Pleiades, and remains nearly sta-
tionary during the month.
Uranus is morning star, He encoun-
ters Mercury moving eastward towards
the sun, They are in conjunction on
the 9th, but as both planets are invisi-
ble, obsetvers will not be the wiser for
the meeting.
Mars is evening star, avd enjoys the
distinction of being the only planet on
the sun's eastern side, his six compan-
jon planets being congregated on the
gun's western side as morning stars.
He may be found in the constellation
Libra early in the eveuing, where he
shines as a {riot reddish star.
The October moon falls on the 4th at
five o'clock in the evening. The woon
is in conjunction with Neptune on the
7th, and with Saturn on the 8th. She
makes her nearest approach to Jupiter
on the 14th, and to Venus on the 15th,
when the bright planets and the waning
crescents will make charming pictures
on the worning sky.
She is still
AI Ame
Chinese Feeaing their Deaa.
Recently hacks and express wagons
loaded with Chinamen, roast pig, ete.
commenced to pour across the Stark
street ferry from Portland, Oregon, on
their way to Lone Fir Cemetery to ob-
this paper, who visited tho cemetery
number of Chinamen engaged in this
pious duty. The roast pigs and chick-
ens were placed around on the ground
among the graves of the Chinese, and
at the head of nearly every grave can-
dies were burnipg., From the best in-
formation to be obtained in regard to
this custom it seems that the food is in-
to the Chinese devil, The offerings
At the grave of one his friend, afer
his knife, stuck up iwo candles, and
then laid out several sets of chop sticks
and as many small cups, which he filled
with wine: then he placed some bowls
of rice and a package of cigarettes and
several bowls and genuflections. as if in.
placed pieces of paper with squares of
imitation gold leaf pasted on them rep-
squares
unched full of holes represented the
sams cash, which coin has a hole in the
centre. Some burned small garments
made of paper, and thus furnished a
pew suit to their deceased friends at
emall oost, After the pigs and chickens
had been displayed long enough to give
the devil time to satisfy himself they
wore carefully replaced in the wagon
and brought back to town.
Utility of the Wheel.
The utility of the bicycle is
by the Vermont farmer, who
son's machine, the wheels a
few feet from the floor, removes the
tire, substitutes an endless rope, which
pe also places on the driving wheels
agricultural machines then makes
shelling a heal hay re
OTD, turning
gripdstones,