Butting It OR.
!n winter time I first began
To court you, Annie, dear.
\ud breathed, an lovers only can,
Soft nothings in that oar.
1 dreamed nitont yon halt the night;
1 wooed you linlt the day,
In sunny hopes, in visions bright,
The winter jstsa'd away.
Twaa tn the springtime, Annie, dear,
Yon swore to bo mv bride;
The latter days of March were hero
The honr was eventide.
You Itegged a very brief dolay—
A month, or little more;
Bnt, ere yon named the happy day,
The spring, alas, wns o'er!
In summer time I bravely dared,
Dear Annie, to suggest
That, if we thought of getting paired,
That season was the best.
What bliss to hail the merry morn
That made yon all my own!
But while I lingered, still forlorn,
I found the summer flown.
September brings the autumn here;
The leaves begin to tall,
Full soon upon tbe landscape drear
Will winter spread its pall.
In gloom I sit, with solemn phis,
A moody single man—
Whose only consolation is
That you're a spinster, Anne!
A SEARCH FOR A SITUATION.
Martie Woodbridge—her name was
Martha, hut no one called her so—
lived on the outskirts of a small village.
Her father was a farmer, but not a
prosperous one. Nature, with its frosts
and droughts, was always getting the
upper hand of him, and the crops which
he raised were sure to he those which
brought the lowest price in the market.
The cankorworm stripped his apple
trees, and a late frost blighted the corn
and oats. He had the misfortune to
buy a cow which introduced the cattle
disease into his farmyard, and Creamer,
Spotty and Whiteface —the three cows
that always filled their pails the fullest
and made the most golden butter—sick
ened and died.
This was the question which Martie
puzzled over from day to day, coming at
last to the conclusion that she must try
her luck in the hi? world which she had
seen so little of oioside ol her own small
village. She would go to I/ondon, and,
if possible, find there a situation as gov
erness, in which she could at least pro
vide for her own support.
Her mother let fall a tew quiet tears
over the plan, and smiling patiently
through them said: " Ask your father.'
Mr. Woodbridge said ' No," at first;
but having laid awake all night over his
difficulties, he called Martie to him,
kissed tier solemnly, gave a weary sigh,
and with it his consent.
So it came to pass that on a cool, crisp
October morning, when the woods were
at their brightest autumn flush, and the
frost had stiffened the grass into little
silvery blades and spears and made the
few pale flowers that lingered by the
roadside hang tin • heads, Martie put
on her bravest smi. .matte hopeful, com
forting little speeches, kissed them all
good-bye at home —the dear old home,
so full of joys and troubles—.'.nd started
for London, to put into that great, hur
rying, driving, jostling market the
modest wares she had to offer.
Martie was eager and full of hope;
hut, alas! how much eagerness and hope
fulness go down to death every day in
the frantic rush and scramble for the
good thlrgn going. Martie, in the great
city, looking for work to do, seemed
like a quiet little wren trying to pick up
a worm or crumb where haw ks and
vultures were snatching and clawing
for plunder.
Martie was met the moment she
stepped from the train by an old friend
of the family, who had kindly promised
to receive her at her house, and do what
she could to assist her. The next day,
early in the morning, a modest unpre
tending little advertisement was sent to
one of the daily newspapers. What a
stupendous affair it seemed to Martie,
and how her unsophisticated little heart
beat at the thought of it! Nothing could
come of it that day, however; and
while she goes out witli Mrs. Allen to
do a little shopping and stare at a few of
the city lions, let as take a look at the
quarters she has fallen into.
Mrs. Allen kept a small private lodg
ing house, very select and very genteel.
Its inmates wero the learned Professor
Bigwig and family, from wiiose presence
a certain literary aroma was supposed
to pervade the atmosphere; the brilliant
Colonel Boreas, hero - according to his
own account—of numberless battles;
a rising voung lawyer, with his pretty,
oiusomg giri wife, all fresh and lc-°]y
in her new bridal toilet; a rich widow
and her stiil richer daughter, who. it
was said, wns soon to become the help
mate of the clerical member of the
household, the Rev. Paul A polios; and
last althcuh not least, the representative
of the tine arts, Mr. Raymond, an artist,
who?" pictures had won golden praises
from critic." and connoisseurs, and golden
prices from pur-lingers.
Mr. Raymond WBP Martie's left-hand
neighbor at the table. 'Villi the first
glance at bis dark fine, iron-gray hair
and mustache, and deep-set gray eyes,
she felt rather inclined to be afraid of
him. Winn be smiled she liked him
better, and thought tbe gray eye* looked
kind, and she felt very shy and lonesome
among those strange faces, and was glad
to have him talk a little to her. and take
care that she was provided with all she
wanted.
On the second morning after she
arrived in the city Martie's advertise
ment appeared.
Mrs. Allen sent a paper to her room
before she was out of bed, so that almost
as soon as her eyes were open she had
begun to hope, and to be afraid, and to
wonder, if out of so tunny people who
she supposed would come to see licr, any
of them would think well enough ol her
to want her services.
Martie was very painstaking with her
toilet that morning. Sho wanted to
ook her best. She spent twice the
asual time over her wavy, gold brown
hair; and when she put on her pretty
gray dress—the gray dress was for morn
ing. and the black silk for afternoon —
and fastened the dainty spotless collar
and cull's, she dallied fully live minutes
over her little stock of ribbons, trying
this one and that, and went down at
last to breakfast, looking, to Mr. Ray
mond's artist eyes, which took her in at
a glanco, like a wild rose just out of a
thicket, with the dewy morning bright
ness brimming in her bright eyes, the
pink of rose petals in her cheeks and
soft, warm, shimmering sunlteams
woven into the ripple of her brown hair.
How bis artist lingers longed for canvas
and colors, to give to his beloved St.
Agnes that beautiful hair!
But the wild rose might as well have
been blooming in her native thicket. In
vain Martie peeped irom the front win
dows, and held her breath when the
door-bell rang. No one came to see the
gray dress that morning.
The black dress fared better. It was
called upon; and Martie went down to
the parlor, with her heart in her mouth,
to meet the giand lady whose carriage
and dashing horses she had watched as
they drew up in splendid style before
the house. But, atas! Martie was
not experienced, and Martie was too
young, and though madam did not say
so, Martie was too pretty, for there was
a grown-up son in the family, and to set
youth and beauty before him in the
shape of a young govtrnness would be
tempting Providence. Madam was
verry sorry, hoped this and that, and
swept gracefully out to her carriage,
while Martie mounted with rather slow
step to her little fourth-story room, to
watch and wait, and wonder if every
body would find her too young. She
was not to blame for it, anyhow, she
said to herself, trying to coax a 'augii.
No one else came that day, but the
next morning there was an early call
for " the lndy who advertised." Martie
was eiad she had on the gray dress;
perhaps she looked oider in it. But
gray or black was all the same; she was
again weighed in the balance and found
wanting—not in years this time, but in
German; an 1 as one weary bour after
another went by, and no other appli
cants appeared, Martie grew heavy
hearted. Her advertisement was to
appear for three days. Two had already
passed, resulting in disappointment.
Mrs. Allen tried to encourage her, hut
when night came, and lite six o'clock
dinner, Martie feit sad and homesick.*
" 1 hope no one has made arrange
ments to carry you off just yet," Mr.
Raymond said, as he took a scat beside
her at their end of the long table.
" No," said Martie, " no one wants
me. I'm too young, and I don't know
Gorman." And a ground tear roiled
over into her teacu .
"There's no onus for discouragement
in that, I assure ou," said Mr. Ray
mond. "I know people who would
not find fault with you on either score."
Then he went on talking to her in
such a pleasant way that she soon be
came interested, forgot all her troubles,
and the tear in her teacup, and was as
merry as though she had been oider and
had known German.
Mr. Raymond stayed downstairs until
ten o'clock, read aloud an old-time fire
side story, and kept the ball of conver
sati >n rolling in such pleasant channels
that the evening was gone before Mar Lie
knew it, and spite of all her disapppoint
ments it had somehow been the pleas
ant est one she had spent there.
The next morning a lady came to see
Martie in behalf of her raother-ln-law,
and Martie engaged to go the following
day to see the place and people.
There was no poetry about Mrs.
Myrick. She was pure, unadulterated;
wanted her girls to have a good, strong
eddication—no jimcracks, no furrin
language to jabber in. She was willing
to pay good wages—would give a gov
erness SIOO a year and her board; bu
she mustn't expect murh waiting on.
They didn't keep any servants—didn't
need any, a pity 'twould be if two
hearty girls like hers couldn't do their
ow work.
Poor Martie! She would not sav no
at once, because this was, so far, her
only chance; ishe promised to giVean
answer soon, and she went back to her
room praying heaveu to send her some
thing better.
She thought her prayer was answered
when a gentleman called that evening,
talked witli her about bis three little
girls, and seemed well satisfied with
the modest account she gave of herself.
He was very particular about music,
however, and would be glad to bear
Miss Wood bridge play. Their inter
view find taken place in the kindly shel
ter of the quiet little reception room;
but the piano was in the big parlor, and
in there the professor and the Kcv. Paul
Apollo* were discussing earth and
heaven- The colonel was stalking
about, showing off ids martial figure,
and the young bride, by the side of her
new lord, was holding court in the
midst ola lively circle of callers.
Shy, bashful Martie! How could she
play before all these peopleP l'oor
timid little wren, that had just crept
from under the mother wing and flown
out of her nest! Could she show what
sweet music she knew how to make with
a crowd of listenersP
There was none of the airs and s;raco
of the music-pounding young woman
about Martie, as she dropped down upon
the piano stool and took a moment's
grace before entering upon the dreadful
ordeal. 'Twos no use waiting, but ah,
f*. • raitla man would but sit down!
Why will he stand beside her and
watch her poor, frightened fingers as
they trip and stumble, give a wild jump
for a distant note and miss it, make a
dive for one octave anil light on .mother,
and at last lose their way altogether and
go on chasing each other up and
down the key note. Martie knows the
piece she is trying to play as well as she
knows her name, but it flies out of her
head and slips away from her fingers,
and she ends at last with a finale of her
own improvising, feeling her hair stand
straight upon her head'as she does it.
The gentleman was " much ooiiged," I
lift almost immediately, and Martie, in
a state of grief and mortification, was
rushing through the hall, exclaiming,
with a sob, as she covered her face with
her hands, "What shall 1 doP" when
she was suddenly stopped at the foot of
the stairs by Mr. Raymond.
" My dear child," said fie, " don't take
it so much to heart. I've heard you
play that piece before, and thought how
well you did it; hut, of course, you
couldn't play with all those people
staring and listening. The man was a
brute to ask you to do it "
"Oh, no; it is I who am such a sim
pleton," said Martie; " hut you are very
good to me;" and she hurried up lairs,
longing to get where nobody could see
her, hut feenng comforted a little, eve
then, by the tender sympathy which had
done its best to console her.
Once in her own room the floodgates
were opened, and Martie cried over
what she called her disgraceful failure
until she find succeeded in getting up a
raging headache. Then she went to bed
with the determination of writing in the
morning to Mrs. Myrick, informing t tin'
lady that she was ready to accept her
offer and enter upon the "eddication" of
her daughters. Hut before she had
time to carry her lesolution into effect
Mrs. Myrick herself appeared, having
mode up her mind that Martie would
not do for them. She hadn't been
brought up in their ways, and was like
to bc.too purtickler.
Thus "vanished all hopes of success
from advertising. Mrs. Allen next ad
vised that Martie should try one of the
educational agencies in the city, and an
application was accordingly made.
Then followed more days of auxious
waiting and of hopes deferred, resulting
at lost in a visit and a generous offer
from a iady who won Martie's heart at
the outset with hi r pleasant face and
winning ways, and her gi ntle, motherly
talk about the little boys and the two
little girls at home for whom she wanted
* teacher and companion. Rut, alas!
that home lay hun !re<ls of miles away.
It seemed to Martie like going to the
ends of the earth. She had twenty-four
hours in which to decide; spent half the
time in wavering between yes and no—
between the courage to go and the home
sickness which crept over her at the
very thought of it. Then scolding her
self for a genuine coward, she made
up her mind that go she must, and go
she would.
" What?" exclaimed Mr. Raymond, in
a tone of surprise. "Have you really
made up your mind to go so far from
home and all your friends?"
"Yes, ( must go," said Martie, with
a little quiver in her voice. " Please
don't uiv anything to discourage me."
" 1 wouldn't for the world," returned
Mr. Raymond, "only that.l know of a
situation nearer home which you can
have if you will accept it. Come into
the reception-room, and I will tell you
about it."
Marti was all eagerness now. How
delightful if, after ail, she should not be
obliged to make an exile of herself.
" It is a companion, not a teacher that
is wanted," Mr. Raymond continued.
" Would you be willing to take a situa
tion as companion?"
Martie's face fell a little, but she
answered:
" I should be very glad to take such a
situation, if I could till it. I)o you
think I could?" •
" I'm sure you could."
" Do you know the person who wants
a companion ?"
" Yes."
" Who is it?"
" Myseif."
"Yoursclfl How —what —"
The exact question which Martie in
tended asking just here must be left to
the imagination, since she did not seem
to be clear about it herself.
Mr. Raymond continued:
"Yes; it is I, Martie I want you for
my companion—my wife." The gray
eyes twinkled as he asked. " Will you
take the situation?"
An hour later Mrs. Allen entered the
room, exclaiming, " Bless my soul!" as
she stumbled upon an unmistakable
pair of lovers.
"My dear Mrs. Allen," snld Mr. Ray
mond, taking bis blushing "compan
ion " by the hand, and leading her to
the nstonished old iady, " I know you
will he glad to hear that Martie will nos
be able to make an > rgngi ment with
that old lady; she has already made one
1 with me."
riltM, HARDEN AMD HOUSEHOLD.
iThr Noll for Fro It Tree. .
There iH a necessity for having the
land for fruit trees well drained. A
cool soil, especially for pears, is very
suitable, but no water must be allowed
to stagnate around the roots. Mrs.
Quin says that on [stiff, tenacious clay
soils, with clay subsoils, underdraining
and deep plowing will be found essen
tial to rid the soil of stagnant water, in
order to get the conditions which wil'
promote a healthy and vigorous root
growth. Hut on good farming land,
such as will produce, with ordinary
treatment, 150 to 200 bushels of potatoes
to the acre, or sixty! or seventy bushels
of shelled corn, it would be a useless
waste of money to spend the amount
necessary to underdrain the soil before
planting pears. A dry, hilly place will
be better than a 'ow one, with no good
drainage.
C'are In narnishni Sheep.
American wool growers or shepherds
have yet much to learn in regard to the
management of their flocks. For ex
ample, the sheep in Silesia arc never
exposed to much rain. Sh clter and
shade are provided for them. Nor are
they exposed to dust, for that is known
to be injurious to the fleece. The great
est possible care is taken in the breeding.
Men of experience are employed to go
from farm to farm to examine the sheep
anil select the best rams that can be
_ound. The rams are closely examined
as to their fleece-bearing properties, and
all hut the very best arc sold off. The
whole economy of the sheep farm is
as perfect as intelligence and industry
can make it.
Mild rnfiil Poultry ({nlslim
In raising poultry or stock, it should
be the aim of every one to keep it healthy
and improve it. You can do it very
easily by adopting some systematic
rules. These may be summed up in
brief its follows:
1. Construct your house good and
warm, so as to avoid damp floors, and
afford a flood of sunlight. Sunshine is
better than medicine.
2. Provide a dusting and scratching
place, where you can bury wheat and
com, and thus induce the fowls to age
needful exercise.
3. Provide (yourself with sonic good,
healthy chickens, none to IK? over three
or four years old, giving one cock to
everv twelve liens.
4. Give plenty of fresh air at ah times
of the year, especially in summer.
5. Give plenty of fresh water daily,
and never allow 'hefowls to go thirsty.
6. Feed them -.stematicaliy two or
three times a da , and scatter the food
so they can't eat too .fast or without
proper exercise. Do not feed more than
they will eat up clean, or they will get
tired of that kind of feed.
7. Give them a variety both of dry
and cooked food; a mixture of cooked
meal and vegetables is an excellent
tiling for their morning meal.
8. Give soft feed in the morning, and
the wt.ole grain at night, except a little
wheat or cracked corn placed in the
scratching place during the day.
b Above ail things keep the hen house
c>!.n and well ventilated.
10. Do not crowd too many in one
house. If you do, look out for disease.
11. Use carbolic powder in dusting
bins occasionally to di-stroy licc.
12. Wash your roosts and bottom of
laying nests witli whitewash once a
week in summer and once a month in
winter.
13. Ix-t the old and young have as
large a range as possible—the larger the
better.
14 Don't breed too many kinds of
fowls at the same time, unless you are
going into the business. Three or four
will keep your hands full.
15. Introduce new blood into your
stock every year or so, by cither buying
a cockerel or sittings of eggs from some
reliable breeder.
16. In buying birds or eggs, go to
some reliable breeder who lias his repu
tation at stake. You may have to pay
a little more for birds, but you can de
ptnd on what you get. Culls arc not
cheap at any price.
17. Save the best birds for next year's
breeding, and send the others to market.
In shipping fancy poultry to market
send it dressed.
18. And, above all things, read the
poultry department of some good, re
liable paper. You will gather more from
it than you can from any poultry book.
Hy paying attention to the above, you
cannot fail to succeed and make poultry
keeping as profitable as thousands have
done nil over the United States.—
Rural Nebraska
Household Hints.
In washing si,k handkerchiefs wash
in water in which the best white castile
soap lias been latliered . Then snap be
tween your fingers until nearly dry, fold
and press under a weight. Never iron.
Zincs may bo scoured with great
economy of time nnd strength by using
either glycerine or creosote mixed with
a little diluted sulphuric acid.
To restore morocco, varnish with the
white of an egg anil apply with a
sponge.
If when bread is taken from the oven
the loavcsfare '.turned topside down in
the hot tins, and are allowed to stand a
few minutes the crust will he tender
nnd will cut easily.
• The best way to fry bsh is to first fry
some slices of salt pork, then roll the
pieces of fish in fine Indi m meal and
ry in the pork gravy. About three
slices of pork for a medium-sized fish
Wbiteflsh needs less fat than almost
any other.
Blight at Fruit Trees.
Profesror T. J. Hurril), of the Illinois
Industrial university, read a paper on
" Anthrax of Forest Trees" before the
Association for the Advancement of
Science, in which he gave the results of
some experiments which he had made
with pear blight and fire blight of apple
trees. He considers them identical in
origin, and the result a living organ
ism—a small fungus of the genus bacil
lus, growing in the living bark. Ho
minute is this fungus that a very high
magnifying power of the microscope is
necessary to see it. The method of ex
periment was to cut off sma'l portions
of bark of diseased trees, and ineert
them beneath the bark of healthy ones,
as in the process of building, Sixty
three per cent, ot all the pear trees inoc
ulated became diseased. Of pear trees
receiving virus from blighting apple
trees, seventy-three per cent, became
affected. When the process was re
versed,a rnueh smaller per cent, of trees
were inoculated. The most conspicuous
change Professorßurrill findsin the tissue
of the affected parts is the aimost total
disappearance of starch from the cells.
This would lead one to think that the
disease is a fermentation caused by a
minute fungus, closely related to those
which induce fermentation under ordi
nary circumstances.
flow to Cr; Turkey.
There is much practical wisdom
among the poultry men that docs not
get into the papers or books. A turkey
raiser who prides himself on sending to
market the handsomest lot of turkeys
in his town, for the Christmas market,
telis us how he dresses his birds- The
turkeys are fed as usual the nieht In fort
butcherinv, and in the morning are
driven in upon the ba*n floor as saon
as they come from the roost and are
made secure. Their crops are empty,
and they can bo caught as they are
wanted. Make a slip noose of strong
cord for each turkey, in an adjoining
stable or shed, put the turkey's legs into
the noose, and with a small pointed
knife stick the bird as near the head as
possible. As soon as the bird is dead,
strip off the feathers, pinfeathers and
all. Cut the neeg off as near the head
as pos.-ible, remove the wings and draw
the entrails, before taking the bird down.
The turkey is hungup alive, and taken
down ready for market. Lay the bird
on his breast or side upon a clean board
to cool. Turkeys should be carefully
handled in dressing to avoid breaking
the skin, for it rubs ofl' very easily
when they are warm. Remove all the
pinfeathers and pack the birds when
sent to market in clean straw, so that
lucre will be no marks of blood upon
them. Handsome, clean dressing will
add a cent a pound, and often more, to
the market price of all kinds of poultry.
American Agriculturist.
A <.rt Orrliaril.
The Farmer's Review publishes a de
tailed account of the orchard of A. R.
V'hitney, of Illinois, who has 155 acres
in apple trees. He set the first 4Oo trees
in 1H43, and now lias 18,000 in bearing.
He began with 144 sorts, though only
Ihirty are left, his object being to test
them. For summer ami autumn, he
chooses red astrachan, maiden's blush.
Snow and Bailey's sweet, and for winter
and spring, domine, jonathan, willow
twig. Ben Davis and winesap. His
argest crop, in IH7R, was '26,000 bushels,
one-half of which was shipped to mar
ket, and the other half made into cider.
He does not count on a full or heavy
cropoftener than once in four years.
For the codling moth lie turns sheep
into the orchard, by which these insects
are nearly cleared out. The long-wool
sheep are best, as cotswolds, leicesters
and south-downs; merinos eat the bark.
The soil of the orchard is rich enough
without manure. Mr. W., advises for
an orchard that it slope to the north,
cultivation with corn fir a few years,
then reeding to clover, to be plowed
under every three or four years.
Krrlpr*
I)ot:iiNi'Tß.—' Twn eggs, one and a
half cups of sugar, nutmeg; stir this in
a quart bowl with buttermilk; two tea
spoonfuls of saleratus dissolved in boil
ing water, and two cups of flour sifted
in; bake in sheets.
COIIN ITFFS. —Scald five tahlcspoon
fuls of Indian meal, and when hot add
a lump of butter the size of an egg;
when cold, add two eggs beaten sepa
rately, two cups of sweet milk and eight
tablespoonfuls of wheat flour.
CHICKEN MAYONNAISE.— Cut up some
chickens and fry them nicely in butter.
I*ct them get cold, then trim into good
shape and put them in a covered dish
with salt, pepper, oil and vinegar as for
salad ; add a few pieces of onion and a
little parsley. Let them stand thus two
or three hours. Then drain tho pieces
of chicken, place them on the lettuce in
your salad dish and spread a nice mayon
naise dressing over all.
STUFFED TOMATOES. Take large
smooth tomatoes, take out a little of the
inside at the top and stuff witli a force
meat made thus: Fry minced
onions in butter and add some bread
crumbs, 'some cold chicken chopped
vry fine, some chopped parsley and a
litl.c stock to moisten, and pepper and
salt, mix well; take from the range,
add raw yolk of egg. stuff the tomatoes,
and hake them in tho' k ovrn. Broil your
chops nicely, butter them hot and ar
range them around a platter with the
stuffed tomatoes in the center.
Fnmlnlo the Vermin.
How I got rid of red mites in my
poultry-bouse: I obtained a little fur
naoe that is used in summer on a cook
stove u> save fuel, built a coal fire in
the furnace, then carried it to my fowl
bouse, put some bricks on the floor and
closed the house tightly, and placed two
pounds of brimstone in the furnace and
left in abort order, closing the door after
mo. Boon the smoke rmmc from every
crack in the bouse, and in one bour I
bad no red chicken mites, but a good
clean bouse in which to keep my low,a.
—Poultry Yard.
Ilow They Capture Hyenas.
The following mode of tying hyen. -
in their dens, as practiced in Afghan
istan, is given by Arthur Connolly in
his " Cverland Journal," in the word-,
of an Afghan chief, the Shirkarcc Syr.'!
Daoud.
"When you have tracked the beast
to bis den, you take a rope with two slip
knots upon it, in your right hand, and
with your left holdings felt cloak before
you, you go boldly but quietly In. Ihe
animal does not know the nature of the
danger and therefore retires to the back
of lijs den, but you may always tr-i.
where is head is by the glare of his eyes.
You keep on moving gradually toward
him on your knees, and when you are
within distance throw the cloak over
his head, close with him and Lake f are
he does not free himself. The beast is
so frightened that lie cowers back, and
though he may bite the felt, he cannot
turn his nock round to hurt you; so you
quietly feel for his forelegs, s.ip tie
knots over thern, and then, with one
strong pull, draw them tight up to 11.<
back of his neck and tie them there.
The is now your own, and you
can do what you iike with him. We
generally take those we catch home to
the kraal, and hunt them fin the pluir.
with bridles in their mouths, that our
dogs may be taught not to fear the
bru es when they meet them wild. '
Hyenas are abo taken alive by thf
Arabs by a very similar method, exc p'
that a wooden gag is used instead of a
felt cloak. The similarity in the r.:
of capture in two such distant countries
as are Algeria and Afghanistan,
by two races so different, is remarkab,-.
From the fact that the Afghans cor.rich
that the Teat requires great presence • :
mind, and no instance being given of a
mm having died of a bite recfived in a
clumsy attempt, we may infer that t!.>
Afghan hyena is more powerful or mor
ferocious than his African congener.
Alligators' Nests.
These nests resemble haycocks. Tic;,
are four feet high, and five in diameter
at their haws, being constructed witlj
grass and herbage. First, they deposit
one layer of eggs on a floor of mortar
and having covered this with a stratum
of mud herbage eight inches thick, lay
another set of eggs upon that, and so on
to the top, there being commonly from
160 to 'J(H) cges in a nest. With their
tails they then beat down round the
dense grass and reeds, five feet high, to
prevent the approach of unsr*en enemies.
Tie femaie watches her eggs until they
are hatched by the heat of the sun, and
then takes her brood under her own
care, defending them and providing for
their subsistence. Doctor Lu'.zeniber, of
New Orleans, tolJ the writer that he
once packed up one of these nests with
the eggs in a box for the museum of St.
Petersburg, but he was recommended
before he closed it to see that there wa
no danger of the eggs being hatched on
the voyage. On opening one a youru
alligator walked out, and he was oon
followed by the rest, about 100, which
he led in his house, where they went up
and downstairs, whining and barkinr
like young puppies.
An Interesting Marriage.
A pair of sightless lovers have been
married in Cincinnati. The hride has
been blind since childhood, but having
received an education at the institution
for the blind at Columbus, has been
more of a comfort than a burden to her
friends, for she had learned to play on ::
cabinet organ and to sing sweetly, and
to be, moreover, of great assistance in
the household Last Juno she attended
a convention of the blind, and herswrt
voice caught the ear of a former pupil
of the same institution where she had
formerly been to school. This was a
blind man with a soft heart, and he re
solved to go to Cincinnati and ask her
to marry him. While he was waiting
for her answer, the house where she
was living caught fire, and her mother
was burned to death. This sad event
occurred a few days ago. and now the
twe blind lovers La\e gone on their
honeymoon.—AYie York Trilmne
A Dog's Ear.
A shepherd once had a dog whom
he used to take very much into his con
tidenee. for the intelligent animal seemed
to understand everything that was said
to him, and somethings, as you will sec,
that were not intended for his cars.
His master wns once going to a place
some miles away from his home, and
said to his mother the night before he
started, " I won't lake Hector with
me."
When his master started on his jour
ney, Ileetor was nowhere to be found.
The river that had to be crossed was so
swollen by rain that the shepherd was
obliged to go a long way round; but
when he reached the other side, there
aat Hector among the rushes. He had
caught the name of the place to which
hia master was going, and started off to
swim over, undeterred by the expanse
of water that had to be crossed.
Said the angry judge to the lawyer:
" The prisoner would steal horses, and I
consider you KO better!" And the law
yer said he flattered himself that he did
know better, and wished he could re
turn the compliment, withfjuslice. And
this was one of the most enjoyable in
cidents of the trial—for the audience.