BETWEEN TWO STOOLS, | In the broad black porch of a pleas ant faros bouse sat two youog girls engaged on some light needlework: The porch was shaded by the wide branches of an ¢lm, beneath which, at & r0ana table sur a tall, good-looking young mau, part«king of an eleven o'clock lunch, He was evidently just from the fi :\d, for he was ia his ehirt- glreves, nnd a sunburnt straw hat lay on the grass while he partook, with a healthy, hearty appetite, of the light bis wits and fresh milk aod butter placed before him. And us he ate he looked at the two young girls on the porch, particularly the prettier of the two, whose light yellow huir the breeze had “fuffed’ most becomingly about her fair face. She had something of a coquettish Fok and air, while her companion was qa, with thoughtful gray eyes and as a'most diffident expression, M her! called the young man presently, looking toward the open kitchen window, some more milk, if you plea ! Mes. Wheeler came to the door, with her sleeves rolled up, and a swmall pircher in her haod, B th girls rose ta take it from her; but she placed it, as if instinctively, in the bands of the light haired girl, saying : Tum seems thirsty to-day; but meadow mowing in July is warm work. And hungry work, too, Tom remark- ed, laughing. Thank you, Lottie; but won't you stay and talk to me here while I eat ! No, indeed ; I've too mach to do to be able to waste my time here in chai- ting. Why, that's something new ! Don't you always sit and talk to meat lunch time ? Not always, by any means. And because Iv'e done it occasionally is no reason why I should keep on doing it all my life. He looked up at her inquiringly. What's the matter, Lottie? Auny- thing happened to vex you ? No, indeed ! How unreasonable you are, Tom | If] am not always laugh- ieg and chattering, you think | am out of temper. The girl on the porch looked up gravely from one to the other, but said nothing, Tom sipped his milk slowly. His appetite seemed suddenly to have de serted him. The girl stood at a little distance, partly turned from him, and sewing on the ruffle in her hand. After awhile, setting empty mug, he said, in a lower tone Lottie, wouldn't you like to drive to the picnic to-morrow in my new buggy ? I don’t know that [ am going the answered, without raising her head. Not going ! reason 7 It will be so hot and the road so dasty, she answered, hesitatiogly. Well, I don't wish to take you against your will, he answered, a Kittle coldly. I wonder if Alice will gn? I dare say she will. She expected to go in the carryall with the Bartons, but of course she will enjoy a buggy ride more-—won’t you, Allie? 80 Tom Wheeler, who had intended merely to pipue Lottie into accepting his offer, found himself quite uoex, pectedly drawn into an engagement to take Alice Brown to the next day's picuic. And what was very puzzling to him —it was entirely Lottie's doings. What could she mean by it ? he won. dered —for until now she had never re- fused his escort any where. Lottie was distantly related to the Wheelers, acd was in the habit of pay- ing frequent little visits to the farm. house, Mrs. Wheeler liked to have young people about her ; sod she was, more over, particularly soxious that her only son, Tom, should marry and settle down with his wife on the farm. She had seen enough of late to con. vince her that Lottie was to be her von’s choice, and she was well enough satisfied, though the girl was a little flighty, and not quite so sensible and sterling as she could wish, Bat that would wear off after mar- riage ; and Lottie certainly was a five down his Why, for whai girl, and Tom loved her; so the | mother was quite content to let Tom have his own way. Only vow and then she would catch hereelf wonder: ing whether Alice Brown, the niece of a neighbor and school friend of hers would not make Tom a more suitable wife, and herself a more desirable daughter-in-law. That evening Tom Wheeler, com’ ing up from the medow, caught a dis- tant view of Lottie and Alice in a lane leading tofa private road which ran as a boundry line between his farm and that of Judge Redmond. flice was gathering flowers in the hedge, while Lottie swung on the gate with a careless grace peculiar to her, in conversation with a nice youog men, whoes whole appearance beapoke A momentary through that him from the city. jelous pang shot Tom's heart, He remembered the last week or two Judge Redmond’s nephew, Mr. Archie Redmond bad several times called to see Lottie, and only last Sunday bad walked home with her from church across the medows. Now, walking slowly, be watched the two untill the gentleman lifting hie hat, turned away, aad Alice and Lottie eame up the lane toward the house. Then Tom hastened his steps and overtook them. Where have you been! he iaquir- ed. To Judge Redmond’s, to see Miss Marion Redmond, answered Lot- tie, who was looking bright sad in smilog. I thought you didoot like Miss Marion Redmond, he returned a lit tle cooldly. Neither do I. She's so absurdly dignified and self important. But that's noreason why we should not visit, being near neighbors and old schoolmates. I thought you paid the last visit a few days ago, said Tom. Yes she answered, coloring, bulk this was quite an informal call. I wanted an embroidery pattern. And Mr. Archie walked home with you, As far as thegate. As he had to go to the post-office, we would not let him come any farther. Thea she added, looking down and carefully imprinting each foot-step in the moist sand I shall see enough of him to-mor’ row, | suppose, at the picnic. S13 you are going to the picaic after all ? said Tom, quickly. It gives you a choice, you kmow, or if one should fail you have the other to depend upon. Lottie you're not in earnest? Indeed I am, I like Tom. He's handsomer then Archie Redmond, and richer, too, with his fine farm all his own, and the money his father left him ; but some people would say that Mr. Redmond was a better match altogether Why Lottie if you think in this way, you cannot really think muck of Tom, would make a match, Well it i8'n impossible, hasn't asked me yet. But he will, Lottie laughed. Only he Then 1 have Archie Redmond to fall And suppose I can’t get Are Tom. Suppose he don’t ft nny upon, chie? Then there is the sofa, and walked softly from the room, out into the yard and garden, her. Two it of strings to one bow! not have believed sit upon, rather, to the ground for any support thatshe will get oul of me. 1 he picnic was a very pleasant affair, as everybody sald—everybody but Tom Wheeler. Strive a8 he would against it, he was consumed with jealousy sad disappointment ; and his unhappiness was apparent to most lookers-on. Even Mr. Archie Redmond perceived it. What is the matter with Tom Wheeler ? he said, asthe latter turned away after giving an abrupt reply to a remark of his. He is not like him- self to-day. The inquiry was addressed to his cousin, Mis Redmond ; but Triplett, the gossip and newsmonger of the neighborhood, took upon her self to reply. Why, Mr. Redmond, she archly, you ought to know, if any one said, does, I? What have I to do with it? What a look of injured innocence ! But really, you ought to be ashamed to flirt so, and cut T Wheeler, you naughty man ! And Miss Triplett smilingly show. ed her false tapped Mr. Redmond with her fan Really, Miss Triplett, you speak in mysteries, You don't really mean to out pour ym teeth, and playfully say that She locked up into his face with a | charming little smile. Now, Tom, you have no right schold. If Mr. Redmoud had offered t) take me through the hot dusty road in a buggy, I wonld have sun and | refused, cort under those circumstance proposed that we should and I and Kate Marsdens woods. He kaew I refused your es he walk —he tedmond through It's a private way you koow, and I promised. They say it's a lovely walk, and being a direct path not too long. Lottie af fected not to perceived his moodiness, till near the house he turned off to the stables, to see that the men were prop erly attending the stock. He did not stay long there. He felt tired and depressed, and entered the house, laid himself down upon the comfortable sofa, in the parlor. The windows were open and a cool breeze, ladened with the perfume of the multiflora rose on the porch, came softly and smoothingly in. Presently he heard the girls com- ing lightly down stairs, and then Lot. tie's voice on the porch. Where's Tom? Not come in yet, [ suppose. Well, we will sit till sup per’s ready. Lottie, said Alice, as the two seat, ed themselves on the bench inside the screve of roses, I suepect that Tom isn’t pleased, snd really I think you are treating him badly, How so? You are not kind to him. You know he loves you, and until within a few days I felt sure that you loved him. Oh, well, we like each other well enough. What have I done to bring upon myself one of your solemn lec: turs ? If you love Tom, why do you en- courage Mr. Redmond ? Why, Alice I'm not married to Tom yet, and 1 don’t kuow that I ever shall be. And my dear, you ought to know a secret—it’s always a good thing two strings 10 your bow. Tom made no answer i Is Steward ? : » | stood thing for at least a Year | | her pretty face and sweet vou did not know that Tom Wheeler as good ss engaged to Lottie Why, it's been an under ast Redmond colored. He had admis ed Lottie, and been much struck with manners | and this news regarding her somehow affected him unpleasantly, h I never before heard of this, he said. quietly. Is it possible 4 Bat, then, you have Well, in But been here 20 short a time, that case we will exonerate you. A girl who can change as suddenly as she has toward Tom Wheeler must he altogether heartless. Archie Redmond overheard one two other similar remarks during the day, and watching Lottie closely, he or saw that while she gave him undoubt- Tom. sciously to himself, become interested io the pretty, sprightly girl. self, he thought ; and, in either case is not the right sort of a girl for me, Tom. whispered Lottie, with one of home with her mother from the pienie, [I'll ride back with you in the buggy. [I've told Mr. Redmond that I am too tired for the long walk back. Thank you! said Tom, coldly, But Alice won't ride with her mother. I've promised to wake her home in my buggy. Lottie taroed and looked around for Archie Redmond. She would have to explain, and walk back with him, which was no disagreeable prospect, despite her declaration of weariness, The weariness in fact, had been as sumed; for she saw that Tom was not pleased, and wished to put him in a good humor again, $ I felt sure that you and he hastily, to Katie, who was at that moment skipping past. Cousin Archie? Oh, he's gone home with the Calverts—Miss Culvert asked him—and I sm going home with mamma and the rest. Not half so nice as walking is it? Poor Lottie ! Both ber bow strings had failed her—a predicament she had not forseen, or, 10 accept Tom's version, between two stools she had neighbor gave her “a lift” in his which situation she the mortification of seeing Mr. Mrs. carriage, beside pretty May Calvi rt, while Tom and wagon, in had Red. Calverts mond drive past in buggy, had Jeft them far behind. She was very angry with back i T Tom Wheeler rose up slowly from | Bo that és her game, is it 7 I would | Two stools to | Well, she'll come | Miss | there is no excuse for Lottie Steward. | ed encouragement, she yet seemed | anxious to not entirely break off with | He was pained, for he had, uncon. | She is deceiving either him or my- | his sweet smiles, as Alice is to go, to her fault, few though she had to admit that it was all her own | when she left the farm, a days after, she and Tom haan't quite made {ap, neither had { again called upon her. Archie Redmond Lottie had promised to spend another fortnight at the farm, and she updier mind that she woutd be made satis. fied with Tom and marry him all. after But before the time for her visit | came, she bad heard two astounding | reports, Mr. Archie Redmond Ito be married to his cousin, Marion Redmond, and Alice Brown to— Tom Wheeler, There were to be two big weddings! and Lottie was invited to both, was Mis was ocngaged There is no doubt but that she was bitterly disappointed, {or, as she liked Tom. But she had also to admit that she was to fessed, she really She had tried to sit on stools at once, and blame. two she had come Ww the ground, MRS. STOWE FAILING. No I write no more, I have done, I have dope, I have done, Anything more pitiful, more pha thetic, more tragic, canoct be imagin. ed thau the effects of the above few words, coming in broken and falter jog scents from the lips of Harriet Beecher Stowe. The bright intellect of the suthor of “Uncle Tom's Cabin” is undoubt edly shattered cannot be longer de nied The pathos, enthusinsm and fire that have built her fame are blended into a childlike sod pitiful simplicity. The scenes aod events that have been the =0il for soul food for millions of thinking people il br in ber library alone carry the b are all merged into ’ 4 "ww 3 y Ren dreams, The welililied shelves itaen ¢ ’Rnd joy thal have relt wilh their Lravail, HR Way § Higel is od Lh I Civi. War human bible, 11rd Causes Of preg ipitating the through her wonderful The dim wn, | gres eyes ght up in Con- wever, aod some sparks Coa that impresses with Her than court Aud again abe | whai must have been, mAanters DAYEe A more Kindy alr, and are tinted with the grace o | modern as well as old-time custom, Her Learing is wonderfully acute, and her intelligence glides along side by side of the guest, whom she recievid with the air of an old traveler hailing a young one from some foreign part neither curious or interested, but for- | bearing. HOW BHE UNCLE WROTE TOM, | begun very young. | writting short stories when I lived in Branswick, Me. get $15, $20 and $26—gouod pay in those times. I never thought of writings book when I commenced “Uncle Tow's Cabin. aroused on the sotject of slavery when | lived in Ciocioatti, and use tojsee esCAping negroes come over the Ohio from Kentuckey., Ah me! it thrills me even now, the sight of those poor creatures! Now a young girl sug. gesting the lover, parent or brother for whome her heart was breaking in boudage ; again, the strong husband, or stalwart brother. Ob, I must write a story to stop the dreaded shame I kept putting it off dreadful bringing the characters to life, till the fugitive slave law lashed me into fury, and I commenced what I meant to be a short story like the others, But it grow, and grew, and grew, and came, and came. 1 wrote, and wrote, and wroteand thought I never should stop. 1 did not plan the book as it come to the ground. However, a kind | turned out. | was only fall of wrath, and the story built itself around as | wrote. A publisher was waiting for a story from me. I told him the sub- ject 1 had undertexen. He wrote saying : ‘You bave straex a popular subject ; for heaven's sake, Keep it short” 1 wrote in reply : I shall stop when I get through, and not before, He never got it, for had I made book of it. While writing it] was filled with an enthusiam which trapsferred my being, knew no hindrance, no ri- Tom, i self | And | con. | from between her pale lips now | } I became first | it, | ing house and teaching school at the same time, and never worked so hard Alice, in the pew | but I had to write. Dinner bad to be | still 1 I be written, jost This as had much Knew, | got, i | to to ave It was through it was written through and more, 100. me, i ouly { holuing the pen. | feet, Satisfied ? | | about being satisfied, never When it Wie | finished it was done and relief came. | I never felt the same with anvthing I | afterward wrote, ‘Dread 7’ Ab, yes : 1t | was on slavery, too, but it was differ. | ent. | | deeply. and ill treated. of myself as a child, I wrote it help other children, “After that [ wrote for money, I ( believe. 1 bad felt the need, and now more of it, with more or less interest ‘My Wife and I’ and | ‘We and Our Neighbors’ should be | OF excitement. oT read together; then he Minister's Wooing,’ ‘Nina Gordon.’ ‘The Pearl of Oi's Island’—that is not good—but there are none of them like Uncle Tom and Little Eva. Ah, Poor vld Uncle Tom, so many, and so long ayo ™ Here the gray eyes drop the light out of them, the thin, brown hands wander to the white locks, and those Knowing the dear old lady well Know that soon they will be asked to excuse her while she lies down “to rest a lit- tle while.” - WONDERFUL CHAS. BRANDON burg hie Pit rrospondent to N. ¥. Sus When Western Pennsylvania was the faoutier aud the Iodian fighter wa, the most important and indispensable in settlements, 3 Brandon was one of person the Charle® the best snd most daring of all the active foes of At 3 o 4, he was capin the men. years, in r age Of Al ’ a2 by the Indisus, at the same of years # was on the baoks the i or Lhe boy was kept among the savages, but twelve e disliked them, and es aped when He wd the ite settlement and leraed to talk From that time be was 1) years ola fou wil his native language, n he gave his ile to killing Indiavs, In 1760 when the [adians were get. | ting scarce, Charles Brandon married & Young woman named Mary Meyers, She bore him died He married two children, and then Fannie Slusher. She bore him eighteen children aod {died in 1830. Brandon was then When he was he married Sarah Baker, who was only 16. She was She lived with him i(wentv.one years, | nearly 70 years old. nve years older the youngest of sixteen children, | bearing him, in the meantime, fifteen | children. Then she got a divorce | sod although at the time he was as he was married, he pined away and { died the same year the divorce was | obtained. He then had thirty-three | living children. His divoreed widow had had the { care of all of them, aud she raised all that were young enough to need rais ing. Brandon had been the futher of thirty-five children, but two died, ove a child of his first wife and the other one of the eighteen his second wife bad borne him. The divorced widow moved to Mountville, W. Va, and the most of the thirty ~three children went with her. Among them were two Johps and two Charleses, Oue of the Johns avd one of the Charleses were the third wife's children. There was a James - bo war old envugh to £0 to the Mexican war, where he was wounded in the veex. When the war of the rebellion broke out the two Johns, the two Charleses, Sim, Alexander David, Andrew, and Reese, of the sons, enlisted in the Union ary, all in the Ohio and Virginia regiments The third Mrs. Brandon's John and Charles were taken prisoners at Chickasmsugua. They were both put in Andersonville prison. John died val interest, no belief but in writting | I had young children, was xeep- | I was lifted off my | thought ‘Poganic People’ interested me | I grew to have a deep sym- | pathy for little girls at an age and | of a disposition to be misunderstood Dolly is a facsimile | to tasted the good of it, and wrote on for in nine months ; Charles was there | twenty-one months and escaped, | Peter was killed at Shiloh while hi® | regiment, the Seventysecond Ohio, | was making a charge. All the othe, | sons served through the war and came | home. The third wife of the remarkable {old lodian killer, and mother and stepmother of his remarkable family, at Moundsville. She Until three months ago she was in destitute circumstances. ives Ie | 70 years old. | Then she got a pension and $2 500 as the She is six feet in height, as straight her claim against government AS AD Srrow, as strong as a man, and | excelling nine ont of every ten men in power of endurance. the Ouly a few hottest—wshe walked to Bt. Clairsville ; mi a.ked to Bt. Clairsville, twenty miles, days sago—one of | in five hours, and back again in the | same time. The shot out about | thirty years ago by one of the second She has only one eye other ope was : | wife's boys. She had occasion to cor- ‘rect him. He got his bow and arrow and shot her, putting out the eye. This remarkable knows the whereabouts of only nine of the thirty Woman three children. They live near her, “Bat, takin’ them an’ their chil dren, sn’ their children's children, there must be nigh to a thousan’ on 3 em by this time.” —— W.C.%. 1 COLUM » HE W £ AT 4 LIQOUR AND LABOR It is to be hoped that the leeture of Mr. Powderly on temperance, address ed to the members of the Knights Labor published this week in the Journal of United Labor, will be read by every laboring man in the lsnd His vigorous denuaciation of liquor drinking and his emphatic assertions of the harm it does the workingmen should shake the prejudice of even the class to The ment of bis own radical position on the most biased among whome it is addressed. state | the temperance question gives addi tional force to his words. he man who neither drinks bimsel! por treats thers to liquor, and through whose th ] influency 0¢ most w extened ely labor orgsization in the country has the from to separated as far as possible Iquor interest, has a right ad vise 3.1 . : and should command the respect 0} order over which the members of that he presides, The first comment working- men will make on reading Mr. nos! Pow. derly's figures on the cost of liquor drinking will undoubtedly be that Such To those who are informed as to the amout of malt aleoholic liquor manu - they are grossly exaggerated. however, is far from the truth. factured and consumed in this coun. try Mr. Powderly's statement will be taken as within rather than the facts. Accordiog to the most trustworthy statistics published the annual consumption of domestic and imported distilled spirits average 75, 199.960 gallons, The amount of beer consumed aversges about 609.705 367 gallons a year. The imported and outside ‘Yes my dear, I love to write, and from him, he being 98. The separa: domestic wines drunk anually average I especially liked | ton from his wife broke his hesrt, 23163425 gallons making a total anual liquor consumption of 708,068 For these T used to | rile, strong aod active as he was when | 782 gallons. A careful esti.onte gives 99% 227. the cost of this as being $711,227 888 The same authority calculates that the | drinking population numbers 14,925, 417, making an annal average cost 10 i each person of $47.65. | What proportion of these 708,088 | 782 gallons of liqu ir is drunk by the workingmen it is impossible estimate exactly. But judgiog from the num | ber of saloons «nn the wards of the cities inbabited by those who make their living by daily labor, they oon. sume two-third to three-fourths of it, It is easy from these statistics to see | the drain liquor drinking makes upon the foancial resoroes of laboring men and to discern why u few laboring men cannot lay up something for a rainy day. isn far more formida- bie enemy of labor thas those inflated
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