thanksgiving at Homo. Oh ! precious I lie memories which Hleal o'er tho heart, Like our hopes of woct heaven thojr oouie; But the ncluwt remembrance tho eoul am revive Is the thought of Thanksgiving at homo. No eyoe into oure have more beautifully gun), Since we froiu tho homo*toad did romn; No *milc* ever cheered, no tone* are liku tho*e Which blewed our Thanksgiving at homo. Tho feast was more luscious than any our lif>A Since trotted ; and love it did bloom ; Till wo felt that the present can never com pare With the dear old Thanksgiving nt home. • Ruoh music as floated through parlor and hnll, . Such xcoating of every old tome — Even life growuth sweeter it* wo feed on them now, Reviewing Thanksgiving at home. Alas! then our hearts did bask in the smiles Of many who sleep in the tomb; No more will re-echo their voice* again, In tho earthly Thanksgiving at home. There arc "loves" which live longer than all human thing*; These recall u*. when thought* they would roam. Bo we'll gather tin in closely, till our children shull t> II Cf a blessed Thanksgiving nt home. THE TURKEY'S STORY. A T.VI.E OF THANKSGIVING. I claim no sort of distinction for having been born a good-looking tur key. One shouldn't ho too proud of natural advantages. Candor, however, forces nte to admit that I rather prided myself on my brown mottled breast and creamy wings, which made it an easy matter to single nte out of a barn yard of fowls, ordinary in most re spects. 1 was brought out of my babyhood and early trials under the personal care of a very kind little boy, who used to stulT me, however, in a hor rible manner with cornmenl dough until the water ran out of my eyes. His kindness in this respect was a gnat drawback to my happiness. If 1 could only have been let alone to wander around the farm and into the haymows and granaries at pleasure, I should have liked it better, but as 1 said before, I should hate to be un grateful. 1 had a twin brother who was a good-natured fellow enough, but he was not handsome. A* soon as we Chipped our shell ,ve were claimed by the farnv-r's two sons, who wrangled a good deal over what to rail us. A young turkey, as you may know, isn't particularly lovely, and at that age I saw no reason to bo vain or haughty with my brother, who afterward turned nut badly. " You may rail yours Hilly or Jack, if you like." aid my little boy, sitting under a chestnut tree untying a lot of cotton twine to make a kite-tail. "As for me, Charley, I have already named my turkey Mustapha." "Sounds like mustard," said Charley, throwing a chip slyly at one of my toes. "What does it mean? it's awful queer.ain't it?" "Yes; but it's got some style to it. He don't look like a common turkey and he ought to have an uncommon name." " Well, you've got it, I should say. I never heard of no Mustaphas in all my t>orn life and you neither, I guess." " You ain't read no tales of kings, 1 reckon." said my master, Freddy, turning very nd in the face. " Mua tapha ha* been the name of a lot of kings and princes in story Ixs.ks, don't you know -them stories Sallie Horton used to read to Kitty when she sprained her knee falling out of the cherry trie- Mustapha means a great lot of things! I don't know what all; ask Kitty. If 1 was you. Charley, I'd call mine Ali- He's another of the same kind of Chaps. It's most as pretty as Mus tapha, too." " I'll see," said Charley, taking a U 'tter aim at me this time; - I'm going V) have a christening soon as ever mine can stand a ducking in that old trough yonder." This chance remark came near cost ing us our lives, as we were both held tinder water so long that our teeth rattled, or they would if we hail had Buy. Mrs. Thompkfns gave Charley and Fred a lot of cookies and bakixl apples for their picnic the following Haturday. without suspecting their dark and'deadly designs, and so my brother and I were dragged to the old horse-trough—the fresh spring water was pumped in, and we were baptized and christened, respectively, " All Charles Thoinpkins and Mustapha Frederic Thoinpkins, K Squire," and " the Lord have mercy on your souls, Amen !" This was the winding up,, and I suppose the prayer was beard immediately, as we both gavo a gasp and come to with a shiver. Ali's legs were a liUIo wobbly and queer after this, ami I think his chris tening went against him. Nothing unusual happened after this for a long time. 1 shall never forget those long sunny days, when All ami 1 prowled through our neighbor's wheat fields, and picked up many stray bugs and calcrpillcra on the green hills and meadows around. 1 think we were favored in many ways, when it came to he known at the house that we were eivili/ d turkeys, and bad names like Christians, though I have doubted this since, having heard some of tho goings-on of certain Mustaphas ami Alis, who were not to know. Hut the bays meant well. Sometimes I think Ali got his badness , with his name, il • was always scrateh | ing up garden sped and running the young chickens and pecking at the ! ugly little g islins h -fore tii *y feathered ' out. Hoys were alway* llaiging rocks 'at Ali, and otic- Mr. Hrvau's hired man, I'ete, shot an arron into one of his wings, which he always dragged after that. Mrs. Thoinpkins was a kind-hearted woman, and I felt very sa l to see lu-r moping around with anaprou over her Ilea l, crying in the pan full of dough • ho mixed for us morning an I night. Her husband was a .stem, grulT tn in, i who had no patience with anybody but ! Dan'l, who was a r> gul.ir ">atan, and ; his mule, >!igo, who kicked every ! hitehing-post down on t!io place. J Things were going wrong, even a scat' tercd-braincd turkey could sep that,and i we soon lcarm d what it was all about. While quietly feeling in tho yard J during the milking and the doing up I of chores. I gathered stray bits of talk which alarmed me dreadfully. I There was a heavy' mortgage (what ever that was) and the talk of a fore closure soon unless something was ! done. The crops were all bad, the bay had Ileen spoiled by the rains, and Farmer Thompkins needed money badly. "I don't see as I can help it, Mary." he said, puttiug up the bars after Hue and lb—s, the cows. "I hate to part I with lies.*, she's a line milker, but I've been Offered a good price, and I am going to take a lot of chickens and turkeys to town for Thanksgiving. Thev'ro a nice gang, and ought to bring twenty or thirty dollars more." Freddy sitting on the chopping blocks gave a little cry and ran to ine instantly, tying a faded bit of red tlannel around my n--t k. " Not my Mustapha, father—l i ouldn't eat him if I starved myself, let alone seeing other greed doing it." "Well, you needn't *•■• it, you know," said Farmi r Thompkin*. with a laugh. "You won't know n> thing nlmut it. I guess. He ain't no letter than the other turkeys. As like a* not he'd be knocked over f--r our own Thank-giv ing dinner. If I'd let y>u boys alone I'd have ,i Jot of pi ive.l-.,ut old t 4 key* on the p p . every y. ar. eating their heads off, ! mse you an't bear to see them k: 11 •I. All b> -h!" I'.eir Freddy ! I must -ay that I felt staggered myself, but he < rnsl so loud that Charley . am,-, running, and he joined in, and Kitty • ameout in afresh clean apron, and she began to crv, which t.H.k all tie .tarch out of it. "\\ ell, b<>} . -aid Mrs. Thompkins in a troiibb i way, "this ends you hav ing p t turkeys and chickens. I can not stand -n< h ems* everv year. I sympathize with you, but your father is right; he i* sadly vexed now. and you mustn't add to it. lam sorry for poor Ali and Mu-tapha, but it isn't as if they Imd souls, you see." Cruel woman ! What should she know about turkey*' - ails? " Ali and Mu-tapha have got souls," said Charley, in a gr. at rage. "We hapti/od them and christened them, and they ain't like no common turkeys I ever see." Kitty felt our misfortune keenly, but she rather grieved the most for Hess, who wa* a kind and lovely crea ture and as soft as *dk. Hess looked lat Kitty with her mild eyes wonder ingly, as Kitty leaned over the bars and Bobbed as if her heart would break. "Oh, dear, what a bard old world this is! Darling Hess, I shan't ever go j over to the daisy meadow after you an\ i more." Mrs. Thompkins wiped her eyes slyly and went into the milk-house, I while that ugly Sligo carried on scan dalously and laughed if ever a mule did In this world. He hated us all, I believe, anil Dan'l put him up to it. I cannot dwell on the sorrowing scenes connecter! with the severing of those home ties, nor tell how Freddy swore he'd run away with a circus nor Jpiw Charley in a (It of rage strangled joor Ali nt early daybreak, while his father was putting Dolly and sligo to the wagon. We were all dreadfully hnstlcd and crowded, and a horribly fat goose stood on my corns the whole way, and this with grief for All and the loss of Freddy, made me really hardened and caruir.n. F.ven turkeys can feel after tbey have b cn christened. Wo were all glad to get to the | butcher's. 1 hoped it would bo over < I soon, (Jrcat red-faeod rooks and loan I old in on rarno in and poked and I squeezed iih until tiiore wasn't a sound spot left on our bodies. 1 think 1 ac tually grew thin in two liours. I couldn't eat nor drink. I was so homesick for the old liarnyard and freddy, and Hess, and Sue, and Kitty anil the old trough, and all the rest - lost to mo forever I would havegivou worlds to have been strangled like Ali. One by one the chickens and geese and turkeys wont, and ft last I wandered around alone. Everybody praisud ino and thought mo a beauty, hut nobody bought ine. " Why, Schneider," said ono man to the huckster, "1 wotildn't eat that turkey for a farm. He's got eyes like a human being, lie's too knowing." " I'd like t . know what's the matter with that dunged yellow turkey," said S lineider to his wife, at last. "I believe lie's -■ • -li. If 1 didn't think so I'm blamed it I wouldn't have him fur my own Thanksgiving dinner, fur ipite. He < ist me an awful siglit." " You might get the hydrophoby," said Mrs. Shm-idcr. " I don't want to eat him. I don't like yaller tur keys, nohow." Finally a customer cntno in who wanted a live turkey -a young man who didn't know a good turkey from a had one - and Schneider and I parbsl with no lasting regrets on either side, I fancy. My customer's wifo was a pretty little thing, who was playing at keep ing house. Shut alked a guud deal of nonsense to her husband, and some to me, and then coaxed me to eat, whieh I declined to do, knowing what wpmld ho the result. I tamely submitted to her caresses and leaned against her hand, and she gave a little scream of dismay, " Wiiy, Arthur, darling, this Is a tame turkey; xoniclssly's poor pet; see, lie has a string on his io ok. Why, dearie, I couldn't kill that turkey and cat him for anything in the world. I should choke." " Non sen e, Dora." said my new master. "Wo c.m't throw away money like that. If anybody was so hard hearted as to sell a pet turkey, I don't see why we shouldn't eat him, my precious." " Hut I e.an't eat a pet turkey, dear; I'd r.ithcr not have Thanksgiving dinner. It's too horrible. I had a pet turki y one." Here Uie door-hell rang loudly, and a hale old gentleman blustered in, with a huge br >vn parcel m his arm*- My new master's father-in-law, Mr. Hornli k, who. by the hiiv. hel l that mysteriousinortg.ige untie Thoiupkins farm. He ha 1 brought adr -•• -11nrk v l>v way of a presi-nt, with the prop..sj tion that lie should coine and help eat it. Then Dora relatisl Artimr's • xjes rience in buying live turkeys, and I was paradni Is fore l'apa II rnbe< k. "I declare," -aid he, refle* lively, " that liH.ks hke .i handsome turkey old iiian ( Thoinpkiris had; a pet of his little boy, Freddy, who . ailed him some out landish tiling. He's been stolen, proba bly." The kind old man actually made in 'jirriv* the n*-xt day, and meeting Freddy first, lus sympathies were en listed, and I was -ent home. Mr. Hornlieck, finding that matters were rapidly going t the bad on the Thump kins farm, redu. id the interest on the mortgage, and from that time things took a turn for the better, and Mrs. Thompklnslwgan to look more cheerful. I was very, very happy and glad to lie at home again, though the fate of my comrades and my own hair-bn adth es capes made me a changed turkey. Kitty and Fred v pamper me a good deal, but life is a very uncertain thing -s-spocially with turkeys about Thanks giving times. Treasure Found In a Bedstead. Luck sometimes strikes in the rigid place, as the following shows: A i young St. Louis housekeeper, who had read in a Paris letter that four-post Insist ends were again in fashion, started in search of one of them. She finally found what she desinsl in the house and under the person of a sick Hun garian, whose wife was painfully sup porting him l>y sewing, and who valued it as a heirloom, hut was willing to supply his necessities by selling it. The next day she took a dealer to fix the price, and, having lieen purchased for a lilieral sum, it was sent to Ids shop to lie fitted with new ropes. It was, in fact, a mahogany fonr-poster of admirable workmanship, nnil the dealer was examining the carvings with delight when lie accidentally pressed upxi a carved rose which yielded ami disclosed as s-ret receptacle in which was tightly wedged a leather hag, containing Italian coins worth several thousand dollars. The money was promptly handed to the poor Hungarians, whose amazement wa.4 so great that iu all probability they have not yet recovered from It. rrog ntorles. Tho supposed reappearance from time to tluio of the sea serpent Is not. a more open subject for credulous ad miration or scoffing ridicule, as the rase may he, than are tho innumerable stories of frogs or toads said to have been Imprisoned for centuries, if not for unnumbered ages. In cavities in sandstone or in coal, or in the heart of a tree, and living through their long confinement- seemingly in the enjoy ment of excellent health. The cred ulous or incredulous respectively be lieve in or utterly reject all hiicli stories. Among the latest of these remarkable accounts is one- given in the Tlmm of J.i'liit, when* we are told that a live Irog was recently exhumed fr--in among some Buddhist relic which had Jain buried fur sevcnteei bun Ire 1 years near a place called Ba.x se-iii. Stlppo-'-d ea es of toads bein found alive in lb* heart of living trees, or in anibtone, or coal, have been very numerous, and it is needl' to point out that a frog only i-venteei centuries old must feel that it is mere raw youth in tlie- pre-ejjee-of ; toad wlii- h ha-, watched the- formatior. of the coal Is-ds. Unfortunately ji can rarely be pus ible to g.-t scientilb evidence of a rase of this kind There may be no que tion that a toa lias been found in the center of a Solid hhs I, of stone, but the Stone \v a broken before it wa< found, and tlia' thi r- was no crevice leading to its po sition could only he proved by fitting the piece , arefully t -gether again This has generally Is-come inip . sildi before any -cientilli- man hears of tin ca In 1 ~_!.* Dr. Bm-kland ma le ; series of experiments to test the pos sihiiities of toads surviving lonj p- riod* of eonlinement without fo - ur air. He made twelve cells in large block of por -us limestone am put a t'-ad into each, covering tin mouth of a cell with a plate of gla* carefully cemented on. The block wa then bur - i ' up * d< ej. in bis gar den. Alter hut • than a year it wa dug out ami examined, when most <>! the t ad-- were found still alive. Soiiu were emaciated, hut in two of th< relis the pr:-- ner-i had actually growi heavier. In one of the--- the gla plate was found to be cracked, s.. that minute in-ects might have ent- r—l but the other < ell was .j ntcM-und. am yet the t • >.i 1 ha 1 gaim-d a quart* r - I an oun- - in w< iglit. To explain this Dr. Du< klarid i driven to the hypoth- -is that tlo r must have been une llaw in t • cement with which the gla>* w.,s fa ' ened. All f'.o* surviving t-.tds wop buried again, ami before the end of th S'-cond year they werealldea-1. Twel-i toads were al - inimun-d in mu smaller cells in a block of hard Bt.-ne. not ja-rvi-iiis t - air r v. r and tloy all |-ri> I -ait; -i one s..i• Dr. Dockland w i- •si t ntly n -t ing In such a state of torpor that all vital functions are entirely or almost entirely sus pended. In that state the need for food Is reduced almost to zero, and considering a t--ad has been known to live an active life in captivity for forty years, and then did not wear out, but met a violent death, they must be marie of gissl wearing material, and there inay be no assignable limit to tho time for which one, properly put to sleep and hermetically sealed, will "keep." I do not know how long frogs live. The Mormon recruits that have ar rived in New York from the Old World during tho past year number more than 4,000. i How the Frost Work*. There is no greater engineer than ! the frost, even although its work Is devoted to tearing down rather than to building up. Hi traces arc often ..cen in tlm housi iof Northern climates in the bursting of Jugs filled with water and of water pipes. To the farmer it is of inestimable value. In the fall lie plows his farm and digs his garden. leaving the blocks of earth as I coarse as possible, and trusts tlo: work of pulverization to the frost. Its action is very simple. The rain* of the autumn and the moisture from tie early snows percolate through the I earth In all directions, filling it as a 1 Bponge is filled with water. In this condition it is caught by tho frost— which expands and contracts accord ing to tie- degree of heat and cold breaking and crumbling the grains of earth, until in the spring they are perfectly soft and mellow. At the same time the same agency is at work on the fenee-po-d* ami foundations of hou-.es and barns that are above frost depth. S ttling bi-u- at h tie ■- p- Is arid foundation the ea r th i- expanded at the sides and b ittom ur til thepo-ls and foundations are forced upward, partially out of the ground. It travels along the highway also, and in the spring, utile-s the road has b n made with the greatest -are, it is soft and springy b<-n< itli, while la r-- ami there the water come- bubbling up and the small stone-* nr< pr bed aside to permit the escape of water and mud. But its work is far greater than even this. The rain falls on the rocks whieh are more or 1- -s porous and r aks into the surface to t-- m<- degree. On breaking a great pressor i* exerted, and they i riitnl ]e, and a ust follows which is sin < ceded by v<- tat ion, and soil is ma b\ On the sea- -re and the nn.urita.n-sidc. also, larg< crevices are filled by tin- rains, and in th-- former c;vse by th-- beating waves as well. In vi ry cold weather these fill with ic-, winch expands, and yar after year large masM *of rocks are f-*r <• ing tin v-naib ' a- ! da n' ■ -t foot, for its -,/!■ of all h<> f---l animals. Wati :il a- - arly a- 17 - ' were . ib-lii at -ly . i, it.- ted l.v band and > -.'liall Sto I adly !.t 'oi tlf top of a lead pen< tl. It is w- rthy of retnark that a inoe quit" has • • ti- < a!' -1 in its bill six com pb-te snrgi'al instruments, each so i.iji'i .it-; -■■ ni'ii ■ - r:u 1- to the naki-d i ye. Th-- t ' cf ah' -nry 1-"-. w ),• nrr m j-ir'd with the point •.f aline ne**ile under i powerful magnifying glass, is -' t: 'ls , 161,186 de posits. Jllowa I'p On a Hteawboat. "Did you ever meet with an acci dent while traveling?" Inquired the reporter, of a flolicr-looking individual, a* they Rat smoking on the upper dock i of a Bound steamer. " Well, I don't know whether it wan an aeeident or not," he replied, "but I was once blown up on a steamboat." "Ah!" ejaculated the scribe, as he whipped out his pencil and note-book; " tell us about it." Lighting a fresh cigar, the serious chap began: " It was iri the summer of *74, and I had just eoiaph'ted a big contract up at Alhanv, and soeur"d pa age for ray s'l f and wife on one of the steamlioats for New York. IJeing very tired, we went directly to our stateroom. Just as 1 he gun to doze, my better half ex claimed, 'John! where are the checks for our baggage?' " 'Don't know,' 1 growled. *• 'lJut didn't you have the trunks sent alioard 'f " 'Oue s not,' says I. "'Well, you are a nice one, you are J* she shrieked. ' Don't you know, you Illustrious, half-baked idiot, that all toy best clothes are In thoee trunks? Don't you know, you miserable vil lain, that every valuable I have in this world is in that baggage?' " She kept up a running lire of abuse nearly all night long. I could hear lie rin my *]<•• p, and when I told her, a-- soon a* sh< became exhausted, tbat the baggage had been sent by rail, she started off again with the furore of a mad bull." Here he stopped and re-lit his cigar. • " You must have hail a hard time of it," said his companion, "hut how about the acejdent?" " Why. I've just been telling you," he replied. " Well, there's nothing brilliant in that." " There Dn't, eh ? If you've never been blown up on a steamboat by a mad woman then you d n't know any thing about explosions—that's all." lie flung the sf uuip of his cigar over the rail, and went b'low to seek the seclusion that the > abin grants.— Itrah'i Mujiziru. " Esq."' An exchange has tin* to say about the title of c-quire; The legislative prohibition by the I'nited .States of title- of nobility ( uid not eradi - no one and implies nothing; an I in lev>eratic society no one is willing,to give others the monopoly of such distinction*. In consequence -evcral titles which were tolerably definite in meaning once have !"■ mie tigs that do not add a hair to the meaning of th" name it -< If. Among these is "Ksq.," once a coveted badge of professional dis tinction and in early New England times confined rigidly to its narr w use—lndeed. even "Mr." was only allowed to respe table housekeepers in good standing. Coming to us from feudal England, "E-|." marked mem bers of the legal fraternity and kindred occupation*. It was at lengt h assumed by or conferred by courtesy upon prominent and wealthy citizens, and at last has come to m an only an adult citizen —the same a* "Mr." or. in gen eral, the same as the name would im ply without addition. It is therefore utterly useless, a b >rp and an offense, for a meaningless title is an insult to any n>.n. It should be disused alto gether. Md left to be marked "obso lete" in the dictionaries. Write "John Smith," or "Mr. John .Smith," if you please, but let us have no more of • John Smith, Esq." Fair I.nna. No one pver gels tired of the moon. , Goddess that she is by dower of her eternal lieautv. she is a true woman l>y her tart— knows the chartn of being seldom seen, of coming by surprise and staying but a little while; never wears the same dress two nights run ning. nor all night the saiue way; com mends herself to the matter-of-fact people by her usefulness, and makes her usefulness adored by poets, artists, and all lovers in all lands; lends her self to every symbolism and to every emblem; is Diana's bow and Venus' mirror, and Mary's throne; is a siekle, a scarf, an eyebrow, his face or her faee, as looked at by her or by him; is the mailman's hell, the poet's heaven, the baby's toy, the philosopher's study, and while her admirers follow her footsteps and hang on her lovely looks, she knows how to keep her woman's secret—her other side un guessed and ungueMabl*— Walt Whit * M