• Take Care." 4 simple, though wise, admooltioa, Trt often we rest it aside, Aaenred that oar tact or poeition Will bring its ont on the right aide. The long lino of footprint* we follow, Unmindful of pitfall or mare, Albeit (list down by the hollow Theguideboard et ill hide ns, "Take ear*." We roma to a garden of flowers Whose air is BO balmy and sweet That we dally, and waste the bright hours. Aud heed not the minutes' swill leet, Tflt darkness o'er hill and o'er meadow Surprises alt nature ao fair, And the gnideboard is hid by the shadow That silently bad© ns, " lake care." To build on a *olil foundation A beautiful structure below, Tor tlie good ol onieelvee and creation, V* must take care ut health ami build slow j Take care ol "good name," h-st it leave us, Though paltry nnd slight its oxcuse, Tor the innocent itonu'limee most suffer A share o( tha great world's abuse. Take care ol thn'dimee—whoso rnii-th And Inyelh a stun on tha shelf, Shall find, so the wiao man declared), "The dollar will care 'or itsell." Take care aniTnot injure a neighbor, Take care of your speech, n* year* roll! .And. Iriend, ns y n Willingly labor, lamk out nnd take c ire ot your soul. —-Yeie York .Sun BELLE'S DIARY. June, I, 1877.— fyundUiy. —We had such a stirring preacher to-day—n home mis •ionary. lie set the whole burin©** before us in a new light; lie urged upon us the necessity of action. If nearer duties detained u*. we ouglit to give titlies of our income, he said. Mr. Andover added a few remarks to empha size tlie missionary's, and tin n the box was passed. Of courso I hadn't any money. I thought somewhat of putting in the ring Aunt Holyoke left me, bat didn't dare. Afterward Mr. Andover •aid if any one had come to church un prepared, she could leave h©r mite in liis hands at any time to be forwarded for the good cause. I told Philip, who overtook mu on the way from church, how much I was interested, and how much I wished 1 were rich enough to contribute; and he only laughed and pooh-poohed and called ine a religious enthusiast. Mother says she wishes Philip wouldn't haunt me so much; that since he lias broken our engagement because we w©r© too poor to marry, and no likelihood of growing richer, a.* id* father had just failed, he ouglit not to Act as if I belonged to him still. I sup pose site thinks it diminishes my chant*-*; but I don't want any more''chances. I don't believe I shall ever marry now; neither will Philip; and why should we not he friends? Old Mrs." Abcmethy told me, diretly alter tlie engagement was off, that she always knew Philip Devereaux was selfish and mercenary. I should have giv.-n her a pice of niy mind if she hadn't been old enough to be ntv grandmother and hadn't meant it kindly. How unhappy I wag when Nell Williams got angry with me and •aid she didn't believe that Pliilip CYIT meant to marry nte, and would never marry any girl without a fortune! That ended our friendship. Thursday.— Philip in going away! It is like a thunder-bolt. ll© is going into business in New York. Perhaps lie will make a fortune; who knows? Not tliat 1 rare for mom y. Mr. Andover brought me a book to read to mother, and a bunch of scarlet columbines. How I wish die could see their rich color and grace! I told him that I had grown a sudden interest in home missions, and wished there was something I could do for the poor people the Rev. Mr.Orrish told u*al>out. " Your mission isain-july marki-d out for you," he said. "You are eyes to tlie blind, and sunshine to those who sit in the shadow." I always think Mr. Andover is a plain man till fie TVatay.—Philip is gone! H© bade me good-bye at the (jate last night, un der the slurs. H© is going to write often. It is horribly lonesome to-day; what would a lifetime lie without him? I've beguiled myself thinking over a plan for raising money for the home mis sion*. I've sold Aunt ilolvoke's rin'g. It was a pretty ring, but the jeweler only rive me two dollars for It, with which have bought a lottery ticket. It doesn't draw till the first of duly, and then how proud I should he to take a thousand dollars over to the p>uonng© for tlie rause. and how surprised Mr. Andover would be! Wr i Herman lesson, ami afterward read to mother and nte from the Human author*. I told him, just a* he was leaving that I had heard from Philip, brinuae he asked before. Thought lie looked displeased or some thing; perhaps lie think* I'm wanting in proper spirit to correspond with bilip since our engagement is broken. isytuf.-Pliillp is so busy that lie ran t find tim© to write often. I've had •wly three letters sin©* he left, but lie •ays that ir ine make sunshine in a shadv ; an) for him. 8 lUin Cutts told X©li riifiiun* that Ida daughter Annette, who is visiting at Coney Island, met Philip there at tlte imp. '' I'm glad tlie WW fellow h some diversions, I said, kwt I was very sorry she mentioned it hgfor- Mr. Atidovcr and mother. Of ■nrsc a mnn cannot work day and night. Aw;v t ll.—Ruch weather is too splen did to enjoy nione, Mr. Andover rowed ■w nt> to tit' Artichoke river. It was dkefairy laud, all tl© boughs of thotrces Awnieg aero** fnmn shore to shore, nnd vhv moouiight and stars sift ing Ihrotiglt. •ad painting wi ird shadow* upon the will water. Resting upon id* oars, lie tmt to mo a g indeTied which he learned •broad, tiiat seemed just a part of the moonlight, the smooth river and the summer. Wlmt they were to the eye, his song was to the ear. I wish 1 ill lip eou'd sing. 19.—The most astonish ing thin g has happened. I eiu hardly believe It. I have been in a state of supreme excite ment ever since the mail came in. What will Philip say? I have never been so happy since the day lie told me he had made up his mind that lie was s"lfishly standing in my light, and that our en gagement must lie broken till he should sei' his way clear to a fortune. Nothinj I urged could change his noble resolve. Hut now there is no longer any need of separation, llis way is clear to a for tune. I have drawn a pri/.e in the Koyal Havana Lottery! (lood luck under a horseshoe. AufftiM 13.—Mr. Andover came to give lue my lesson. He said I looked as if I lmd heard good news. I wrote Philip ail about It, and how happy I am to know that our days of separation are ended —that lie must feel it as much Ids money as mine, and that now lie will not need lo slave himself to death, and that though we will not be very, very rich—not nearly as rich as Squire Cults —yet we can live in comfort and happi ness, unhampered by debt or poverty. How surprised, how happy, lie will Is-! AuffwU 14. — I'hilip has received my good news by this, and is in the aeventli heaven. lb.—No letter from Philip. Perhaps it is too early to look for one. •JO.—I shall never have the happiness of expecting a letter front Philip again. Perhaps 1 am only punished for my self ishness. I bought the lottery ticket, to be sure, in order to benefit the houie missions, but the temptation to benefit Philip nnd myself was too great. When I drew the ) rise I doubted at the time whether I did owe it ail to the home mission, but as 1 had only hoped to draw a thousand dollars, at most, for that cause, my scruples were overruled tiy selfishness. My religious enthusiasm, as Pldlip once called it, died out when it came into competition with my n* n happiness. lam punished, indeed. I was so happy, too, when 1 started, under Mr. Andover's convoy, for the church picnic. I had no doubt but Philip was on his way to meet me and make arrangements for our marriage, because he had not written. Perhaps he would bo at homo waiting for me whc I ri turned, talking it over with mother. I was so snre of his love. By and-hye I got tired strolling in the woods hunting for maiden-hair fern with Mr. Andover, and sal down by some trees, a little apart from the others, to think and enjoy myself. And pre* ntly I heard Miss Ann" tint* r ailing a letter aloud to Mrs. H'.air, and her droning voire was hushing me oil to sleep. "Our wedding is lixed tor Oetolwv, I wanted to wait till Christmas, but my lord and master objected. My gown is already ordered of Worth. 1 shall In* married in church, by Mr. Andover. " Your affectionate niece. " ANSKTTK ( l TTs." Was Mi* Anne (,'utt* still reading aloud, or ind I dreamed this alsiut the wedding and Mr. Andover? I opened nty eyes, and saw a little bird tilling on a spray, and immediately Mrs. Itlair broke the spell by saying, " Blm me, Anne! it's a good match for Philip Devereaux. now isn't it? A lucky day for liini when lie broke oft" with Ih-lle Ford!' 1 And I hoard no more; the trees and the bird seemed to swim before me in a cloud of ntist. I stood up and steadied myself ngninri a bowlder, and Mr. Andover came and nut my arm in liis and took me home. And this is the end. Philip untrue! Philip the lover of another! It is unreal. 1 cannot seem to grasp it. —A letter from Philip !>©- vereaux. After all. I thought, may tx- it was gossip and hearsay. Tin* right of the familiar handwriting sent the blood spinning through my veins. He con gratulated me on my good luck, and added . " Having broken onr ewgagetw nl when we were"both Ix-cgar*. liow could I renew it now because yott liavi h© otne rich? Would not the world —our world —have the right to point the linger of ■worn at me? I cannot accept sucti gen erosity. 1 telle, even for your ak. hut must still plod on." Once 1 should h\ e thought tlie> sentiments v nohle. Whereas I was blind, now I see. He thinks that I know nothing about tin i affair of Annette t.'utta. or lie lias not courage to break it to me. A-pfrmAer.—T have resumed my Her man studio*. to divert my mind. Kvrry \to 1y ia talking of the approaching mar . riage. I told Mr. Andover nWiut the ! prize, and asked if he would take it for ; home missions. "Have you the money in hand?" lie | asked. i "No; I have noteven sent on my ticket. . i have merely ls-en notified that I had ! drawn the amount." "My dear Mis* Belle," ho said. " pnr i don me—but I do hot approve of lot- I lories." i " Neither do I, anv longer." " It may ho a foolish scruple,'* he pur sued ; " most people would laugli at It; hut it scents to nte that money obtained in that way does more harm than good will not be blessed in the use." "Perhaps not." I said: "but what shall Ido with it? I feel like the titan who drew tlie elephant." " Suppose you destroy the ticket and do nothing about it?" " V?ry well," I returned. ' I wiJi F had never bought it." And so ! held it in tlie gas i t, and reduced the fortune that was to have mudo nte happy to a pinch of ashe*. fkiiJn r I.—A dreadful tldng ha* hap pened. Squire Cutis has i'i< d in*nlvrr'o Monthly. Catching Crab* for the New York Market, Not the lenst important of the various hrani lies of industry on the south side of L>r.g Island is that of crab fishing. Many of tie' inhabitant* of the villngi- t(order ing on th< western poriion of the (Jreat South bay depend, during a portion of the year, almost entirely upon their sales of soft < rnb- for the m css*arirti of life. Nearly all the v.,ft cralis r<*'eived attb< New Y'ork mark' ts from tbi* *-< nt.) •••me from Merrick Cove, a small bay -itu.atcd IK twe< n Merrick and Froeport, and within ewenty minut's -ail of ritlnr pia-e. Here scores of crab flshernicn from the neighboring villages eongn gat- • very •uninier, many of tie m living during the season in a sloop's cabin or a small wooden building erect'd on tin- marh for tlie purj>o*c. The season for mi twelve to forty-eight hours, are t<-rni>*! " *hed ders," and placed in a ear by themselves. Next to these comes the "ripe coni mer*" and tlnn follow tiie "green mm mers." The ripe and green com mew are usual ly put into a car together and over hauled by their owners daily, for the purpose of transferring tlioe which have lieromc sufficiently ripe to the sloslder car. When a erab is ready to "shed" he will begin to swell gradually until the Imck and end* of his shell burst open. He is now termed a "buster" by hi* owner, and will literally back out of his "old i-oat." and come forth considerably enlarged and very much improved in ap peanuice hv the transformation. They an' left in the water for aliout three hours alter they |nie soft-crab*, w lien they are taken out and packed in liaskets for the Mew Y'ork market.—-Vcc Yorl Wilne*. __________ The Heroin! Summer, The American year Ins two sum mer*. Tho first includes the month* of June, Julv and Augti-t, and tli"aecund the month.* of Hepteinuer and Octolsir. The first funiiin r is for rest, the second for nctivitv. In our climate the two latter months commonly exhibit the per fcction of w-eatber. The torrid, exlisiut ing weeks of tiie hoi solstice are gone, and time of brightness and warmth with out burning lot* come. Tlie night* and mornings are invariably eool and brac ing. and sleep, for the' tiist time since May, can be counted Upon as a certain luxury. In the middle ot tbc day the sun is kind, but not more than kind. It is a season adapted, a* no other Is, to a combination of outdoor and indoor pleasures. Tin re are the mornings for exercise, the afternoons for reading or what you please, the evenings for the most enjoyable of entertainments, and tlie dark hour* for a r*riety of real not to lie h:ol in July and August. The country is especially referred to—rot the city—and those who really love the country for what it can give thcin, aa well as for what it can deliver tlicni from, should not hasten to return to town simply because tlie date "Hcpienitier Ist" nnpoar* on the top* of their letters and hills. Of course, busi ness is business, and many must leave •heir siimmer haunts willy-nilly.—S'cw York Graphic. ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE. tlow • Mau'a Wlh tu lloUn from Htm by Iter Hrothsr-Kllllna'th* llruthcr and iMdlni • IVanttrrer a l.lfr tor Thirty Taara- Sfretina Ilia Itrmarrlad Wife and Harrylna Iter Aaala. At th' 1 hospital in the Boldlero'Home there I* an old soldier, a veteran of the war of 1819, now in lilh eighty-third year. Ilia frame i somewhat stooped with years, hut otherwise indicates a vigor that promises to but for many years. He has a cheerful, intelligent fiiee, and his record at the Home Is of the Is-st character. A few weeks ago he met with hrutal treatment at the hands of a rough follow in West Dayton. He has not yet recovered from the injuries that were inflicted on him. j Tho name of the old veteran is Kliae 8. Jones, and hit history is one of a kind often recorded in romance, and the counterpart of which the poet Tennyson [ lias rendered immortal in the pathetic i tale of Enoch Arden. 'l'he story of Kliua Jones' life is more dramatic and even more painful titan Knocb Anl.n's, ' though its end is happier. He was horn in Vermont, arid was i only In Lie sixteenth year wlem the war of IHI9 brol •-out. After nw< hadhecn i cunt ludcd Jones removes! to New York i Stale, where lie bought a small tract of ; land in Stcuiien county. Another per* i son was bargaining for the satin piece of property, which was a section located in a very favorable position, and when i he learned that Jones hod obtained tic preiperty Ills anger was so extreme that ,on several occasions they had nearly come to persona! encounters. Jones lived on his property, and some time after met, loved tuid oourled a young i ludy who lived in that section of the ; Stale. Her nanie was also Jones—Miss , Alida Jones. Sh< was a handsome country girl of seventeen, and though her home was at some distance from Klias', young women, and pretty young I women, wore a sear atr < near by Imm bis wife's broiler, stating this 1 work li id Ik "n Jnne by him in reveng'. Be aJto added if Janet fallowed and tracked him l<< would shoot him i nsight. Klias could lind no trace of his family, i but In deli rinined to recover tin ni, and, as he ays, having l>ccn shot at in the war. lie though he could risk it again for his wife and child. An op|iortunity of fered and h" disposed of his farm, and s i out upon a cl-** that lie liad obtained. It proved right, and lie found that his brotb'T-in-law was living in thp'irtnaai . valley, in New York, and the lmu*r he dhwovered setting ba<-k In the wood*. From the distance he aaw his wife In the doorway, and he w*s advancing to ward her when a rill'- cracked ami he tell over pierced with a lai!. He in j "tantly recovered hints' if and looking in the direction of tlie smoke, saw the brother of his wife step from behind some brush with lliedi< liarg< d piece in his hand, and advance toward him. It was the work of an instant for Klias to bring bis own pi'-ce to a level and tire. He felt, as proved to be the ease, that ■ the shot was fatal. Klias was a sure shot and bis own injurhw made him de | panto. Hardly knowing what h<- did, Klias sprang t" liis f"-t. waved nn adieu t> his wife and eliild at tlie doorway and rushed away. His own wound proved to I* slight, though had the aim been the hast truer, it must have canard Klias' death. lie pushed right on to New York city, and there engaged board a ship for a three yean' cruise, sending a letter to his wife before lie left. Bh'- remained a time at tiie place after j her brother's death, and another child i was lwrn to her, whom she named after its lather. Then an old friend stopping at her house, she removed with him to Pennsylvania, where she had other friends living. No further word was heard from h-r husband for several | years, when one day the death of an American sailor, Klias S. Jones, of Liverpool, was rhmnich-d in a news ! paper, and she was *ui*f qucntly mar ried to tlie friend who brought her to Pennsylvania, a man named Anthony Swnpe. with whom the lived twenty live years and became the motlier of ten more children. In tlie meantime Jones returned from liia cruise, hut m-eivrd no word from i his wife, and started upon another voy age. None ot his letters were answered. In Liverpool he fell from a mast, was severely injured and was taken to a hos pital. which fact probably gnrn rise to tlie r port of hie dentil. Subsequently lie learned that Ills wife bad married agnin after he left her, and Jones con tinued his seafaring life for thirty years, when, getting Into tlie decline of iffc, he determined to renounce the si a. He driltid out to the place where he had last seen his own wife, and where , the fatal tragedy had occurred. He did , not have any definite purpose except a } yearning desire to learn something more respecting tlicnt. They had been for gottm at the seen' of the shooting, and i tlie homicide Itself was only rcinoniliered ias a distant legend. He was able to get 1 some clew which led him to Handy ("risk. Mercer county, the place she iiad gone to live in Pennsylvania. Hlie hail, however, gone still further West, and the old man lost all further trace. Clin nee led him to Conneaut, Ohio, and there ho heard the name of Rradford 1 Jones mentioned. Tills was the name of Ids oldest son, and it proved to be he. ' He was a blacksmith and lived in the town. Klin* recognized himself ) n the innn as soon as lie saw him, hut it was hard to convince the son that his father was living, and tligold man was turning away when his son invited him home to dine with him. His son's wife recog nized the resemblance lietween father and son at a glance, and the old man related the varied story of his life. They told him his wife was still living, hut when he complained that she had married another man. they informed him ; Swope had died the year before. lie ac companied bin son to her home, some . thirty miles distant. She was sitting In i a corner near tlie tire, knitting, when 1 they came In. and remgnixtd her son but not him. Klina had not seen iter ! •inee she was a giri of leas than twenty, j hut lie recognised In the old lady liefore , him many familiar linos and ex pre salons. I Wfcen he spoke she suddenly threw up her bunds and cried ; "The dead has come to life," and fainted. | When she revived the first words slie ( uttered were: "Ellas, you can't blame j me. He told her bis story, and tl.ey returned eth*r to Connwticut, where they were remarried in In*tl. For more ; than twenty-five years they lived to- I gether. hut their means failing two years ago, he came to live at the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, in virtue of his service for the country in IHpJ. Tlie fourth of j last March his wife died, and (the old j j man went home to attend her in her hist days and to bury her.— Dayton (Ohio) i ; Journal. Interesting Facts about Oyster*. i Several of the Connecticut and Mary land jails contain prisoners who were j arrested for stealing from oyster beds at night. New York's oyster trade is said to amount to $ 10.000,000 every year. About 1.000 vessels are engaged in the hu.-incs i in that port. I Notwithstanding the fact that every 1 -aloon in New York elty advertises "Saddle Rock" oyster* there h not' been an oyster brought from that bed | for the lost ten years. Tlmt ls-d wis neur h indV I'oint, but w is cleaned ont ' in the'AO*. Americas oysters sold in Liverpool ' last winter for'B lo a barrel; and 36.000 burr. Is were shipped to that port. One of the heaviest transatlantic shippers says that oysters ar< delivered in Liver pool In Ik tier condition tluin i:i Chica go, 1m i hum* when sent across the < ountry i the jolting of the ears opens tlie shell ' am! kills the oyster. I he oni mies which Ike owner* 'if the oyst< r lx-d* have to cotiti ml against are the red drumlish, starfish and a small shellfish called a "drill," which bore ( through the shell and extract tlie liquor, i Ihe nil drumtish varies from two to t„ree feet in length, and his method is to crush the oyster in his powerful jaws and eat the rmat. Eleven years ago a shoal of drumtish attacked a lied at I'rince'i bay, and in the course of two! days ate up T.oou bushels. If menhadden ar< caught by steam, ' oysters are also dri-dged by rm-ans of steamers. The first oat of tlie kind i the Ixx-kwood, which work* an oyster farm ot 1,600 acres (> n Ixmg island Sound. The grounds ar< in deep water , off the n*w lighthouse at Savin Rock. The Ixjekw'Kxt i '-quipped with Steam dredg*. When the dredge* are thrown overlMiord they sink to a depth of thirty five or forty let and are pulled in by steam. They an- often filled with u re mark ab '■ i ofjerti< >n 'if bigoystl rs.qu* 84.60 a hsirel, and In-fore tlie European demand the prices ran fie tween f 1..60 and T\m.. Japanese I'olileness. The Japanese are born polite. Their parenU were, and thesr- in turn, .-ime from centuries of polite ancestor*. As an infant, the native's soft hone* snd wax altered over mo t of the heights of the three provinces. Politi cally, they are divided into districts, ea< h of which choose* an alcalde, who is hot ha civil and military oflii cr, and a > member of the Junta rne ir native mountain*. Tbey wer< the Cantabri of the lb.mans, who admired tlo-m Cur their sturdy d< finer of : liberty. and are alluded to by Horace -* a people very hard to teach to b.-ar the yoke. Cctituric* later, tbey fell. j n the renowned defile* of Ror-ccvalle*. upon Cbarleniitgneand his army when rMum ing to Fran', *]ew hi* lira vest paliadin*. and compelled him to fly for hi* life! Ettacaldunac i* the name the It.i*qu< give t)ieniM>]yes, and their country ltjy ™ <-ali Euecaleria. Tie y are prouder <\ < u than the Spaniard*, and the mcr- fact of ticlng horn in their district voir'* the { privilege* of universal nobility. Vital Perre. I/*t us eon*ider a few of the n-any ways in which we waste the stuff ttint : life i* made of. It ha* Ix-en well said j " the habit of looking on the briglit side of things i* worth far more than a thou sand pounds a year;** and certainly it i* a habit tlml must add many years to tite liv-s of those who acquire it. Boally, every fit of lc-|iond( n< y and every rage f take* so much out of us. that any one who indulge* in either without a great struggle to pr< vent himself doing so sliould he characterised a* little less than "a fearful fool." How ailly it sc-m* even to ourselves, after cooling. to have a< quired a nervous iic*da he and to have liecoffis genenUly done up. stamping round the room, and showing other signs of foolish anger, because the dinner was five minutes lap-, or bo*u— ome one'* respo t for u* did not ouite rise to tbe high standard measured by our egotism! A* if it were not far more imt-ort.ant that we should save our vita! energy, and not get into a rage, than that tin dinner should be served exactly at Uic moment. One day. a friend of fiord I'alm'Tston asked him when he considered a man to lie in the prime of life; Lis immediate reply waa "* venty-nine But," he ad ded, with a playful smile, "a* I have ent'Ted my eighth th year, perhaps I am myself a little paat it!" How is it that such men work on vigorously to the end* Because tbey trc-aaure their ever diminishing vital force. They studiedly refrain from making a pull on the consti tution. Reaching the bonier* of seventy year* of age, they as good assav to them . Ives, "Wo must now Pike care what wo are about.*' Of