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VOL. XII. NO. 15.
TIOKESTA, PA., JULY 2, 1879.
$1.50 Per Annum,
Summer.
Oh, brightest season oftlte year I
Thou whito-robud goddess all divine!
We bow in homage at thy shrine,
And rosos strow o'er uprjng's cold bier!
So like thy sister spring thou'rt soon,"
In vernal drapery ol grocn
With flowery skirt, as only nature wears
Whun she in hnppiest mood appears,
. m In the soil and gunny hours
Hroulorod and decked with greenest leaves,
- 'And gnrlafulod with rarest flowers;
Wliilo on'thy hood a floral crown we plaoe,
And iu thy hand a lily lor thy mace! .
Oh, sununor queen! with air ol graoo,
Tliou reinest sweetly in thy youthful pride ;
i Oil, peerless quoon with bonnio laee !
Scatter sweet blossoms strew them lar and
wide!
Fuit fields of waving (rain,
Vith myriad webs of shining pearls,
Lie tangled thick upon the waving plain;
A And tutted blossoms lift Uioir yellow heads,
Tocatoh the dew-drops slmkcii lrom the blades!
.In rosy dances the morn advances,
How dow'-wot flag o'er all unfurls!
Soft flooding steals its mollow light along.
Molting tho morning mists, and waking song,
Till no9n tho golduu-skirted clouds advance,
' Uojoicing in relieved .radiance
Of thine, oh, bright, luxurious summer.
Oround-ivy and clover nro now creeping ovor
V The heather and lawn ;
Whit 0 lilies aro blowing, and violets showing
. Their, gold hearts glowing and glud to the
. dawnj.
While hero, amid tho sheltering wood,
Tlfo robin and the bluo bird brood 1
Tho soug birds at night attest their delight,
, That tho rost hour is nigh j
The sail whip-poor-will aud tho boll-Lird, still
10 woods wit h their lojio reply j
Then, in rhapsodyjed they foretell the au-
. .rOntl
Blnsh of day-duwning sky!
Now rural maidons their tresses twine
- With iragrunt buds of columbine.
And gleefully o'er hill and vale,
. Lights floats the sweet and wandering gale!
Or while I walk through meadows wide,
'. Or watch tho rippling river's tide,
Fresh odors, dclioute and rare,
, Porfurae the warm and ambient air- -g
-Fqr thee, oh, rosy, blooming summer
For thee lor thee!
The glad earth throbs beneath thy feet, .
For thee, oh, warm uud dreamy summer!
While gleeful nature smiles to greet
Thy happy laee;
' The heavens rejoice in thy glad voice,
And winning grace,
Oh, soit, sweet sheeny tuinmer!
Late apple blooms with ardor blush, ..
And cherries smile with tinted flush ;
'Jihe peach tree buds are crimson red,
While taneful warblers pipe o'oi heud,
For thee, oh, fragrant, fruitful summer!
The busy little honey-bee
Makes merry drone in locust treo
Now by its coining and its going,
Aud by its "humming, it is showing
. 'The love it bears to' thee
. To thee, oh, honey-laden summer!
1 1 ... .i..;,. t
' Luther G. Riggt, in JVew York Mail.
GERTRUDE'S ABDUCTION.
IVY SAMUEL ATEUS.
"Miss Gertrude, I Jiave important
news for. you." said Edward Ruther
ford us he crossed the handsomely-carpeted
floor of the luxurious parlor of the
Moor mansion, to where the young and
beautiful Gertrude Moor stood ly a
window reading a book, in which ho
was so much interested that she was not
aware of Edward's presence until he had
spoken. -
"What is HP" asked she, as with
1 criipson cheeks she glanced from the
book toward Edward.
" You have probably heard that I vis
ited the saloons last nijflU; with the Rev.
Reuben Homes, who wished to secure
items for a sermon which he intends to
preach ifl tho Methodist church next
Sabbath."
" Yes. sir, father spoke of it thy morn
ing; but how can that be of aliy import
ance to me?"
"Listen, Miss Gertrude, and you shall
hear. I havediot language to describe
tio. disgusting sights that we witnessed.
ti e visited tour ol those gambling-dens,
" in each of which were a number 0 rougd,
haggard-looking "men engaged in
drunken revelry. 1'her was not a
young man in either of the first two we
visited, which was a great satisfaction
to me; but a3 we entered tho third one
I beheld among tho group that sur
rounded the cam -tble three young men,
'. and one of thenv .is "
"Harold," sa' .lertrude, sarcastically.
" Yes, it wa- ,-iarold." .
'tNonsensefcMr. Rutherford," cried
Gertrude, in angry tones, "I-vould
not believe such a thing of Harold Ful
ton thoughran angel should, proclaim it
tnm(i."
" Very well. You will learn some da
that it is really true. Would to God it
vere false ; (or then you would not be
come a drunkard's wife. I must now
hasten back to the store, as I shall leave
town by tho one o'clock train." And
. without waiting for a reply from un
grateful Gertruue he bowed very courte
ously to her and departed.
Edward Rutherford had been in the
employ of Moor & Co, for nearly two
years, during which time he had learned
to love Miss Gertrude Moor, daughter of
the senior member of the firm, verv
dearly, and had resolved that whea his
financial circumstances-would allow to
ask her to be his wife; but now all hopes
were vain; for Gertrude was ensazed to
Harold Fulton, a young man of reputed
wealth who had been in the town only a
few weeks. It was with a great effort that
he succeeded in allaying Ins sorrow at the
untimely end ot his brightest hopes; but
lie was determined that Gertrude should
never know how dear she had been to
him. Fearing that she might detect a
trace of the feelings that agitated his
breast, ho had refrained from visiting
her since he had heard of her engage
ment; but the incidents of the previous
night had induced him to seek her pres
ence to convey to her the intelligence
that might save her from becoming the
wife of a man whom he now knew to be
unworthy of her. .
Gertrude watched him as he proceeded
to the store, bitterly regretting her un
kind words; for she had observed the
expression of sorrow on his .face and
knew he felt hurt. So much had her
feeling toward him changed that a tear
trickled down her face as she thought
how much happier she would be were
she engaged to him, whose love she had
never doubted, than to Harold, whom
she now believed to be a drunkard and
probably only courted her for her
money. Had she known that weeks
must intervene ere she should behold
Edward's face again she would doubt
less have went bitterly ; but she did not
understand his hist remark to her, and
when, an hour afterward, he was on
the train miles away from her, she sup
posed him to bo in the store attending to
his duties.
After a vain attempt to console her
mind by reading, she went into tho
library and wrote Edward a letter, beg
ging pardon for what she had said.
"When her father arose to return to the
store, after supper that evening, she gave
him the letter. He read the address and
returned it to her, saying, " He is not
there."
"Where is heP" asked Gertrude, in
surprise, dreading to hear the answer.
"He has gone to Philadelphia on
business for the firm, and, as ho passes
near his father's, he intends to stop 011
his return and spend two or three weeks
witli his relatives. It is a busy time to
let him go, but he has not been at home
for nearly a year and I could not well
deny his request. I am sorry you did
not use more courtesy toward the noble
fellow when ho came to bid you good
bye. It would "
"When he came to bid me good-bye?"
interrupted astonished Gertrude.
" Yes, and you treated him so indiffer
ently (hat he returned to the store very
much grieved."
" But, father, ho never bid mo good
bye!" " I only know that he said he would
run up and see you before leaving, and
that when he canio back he was very
much agitated." And Mr. Moor has
tened away, leaving Gertrude to her own
reflections, .
Jlelore closing her eyes in sleep that
night she resolved to Ireo herself from
her engagement to Harold at their next
meeting, for she was sure that what Ed
ward had told her was true, and she
could never become tho wife of a man
who was guilty of such conduct. She
arose very early on the following morn
ing and wrote Edward a letter, telling
him how bitterly she regretted her cruel
words and asking his pardon. She also
told him of her intention to free herself
from her engagement to Harold. Hav
ing sealed the letter in a neat white en
velope on which slie had previously
written his address, she took it to the
postollice. Dead stillness reigned over
the town, and she had thought to
get back to her room without being ob
served; but as she was returning 6he
met Harold Fulton, his haggard coun
tenance and unsteady gait betraying tho
effects of debauchery. She passed by
him without seeming to know him and
hurried home. She did not relate her
meeting with Harold to her parents, but
when at breakfast her father spoke of
engiiging him as a clerk until Edward's
eturn, she protested against it. He
was, however, that day employed. He
called on Gertrude in tho evening and
requested her not to tell her father of
their meeting that morning. She told
him that she would comply with his re
quest, and also that ho must consider
their engage ment as ended, as she could
never marry him. ,
This did notpleaso him, and he went
away very angry.
The Methodist church stood in a
beautiful grove on a small eminence
overlooking the town. Thither on the
following day, which was Sunda-, Ger
trude, accompanied by her parents, went
to hear the Rev. Reuben Homes deliver
his Bermon on intemperance. He illus
trated the folly of intemperance, showed
how strongly its guilt is denounced.
traced its ellects on its victims, anci
wound up by showing the drunkard s
doom. In tracing its effects on its vic
tims, he gave an account of his visit to
the saloons, describing vividly what he
saw there. Gertrude was inspired with
new courage in her resolution never to
marrv a drunkard. At the close of
meeting Harold asked permission to ac
company her home, which she politely
reiused. one onserved his sullen brow
and revengeful look, but heeded them
not.
A week passed away and then there
came a letter from Edward, a letter of
passionate love and devotion, winding
up with a proposal of marriage. Ger
trude, exultant in her new love, immedi
ately answered, accepting his proposal,
and bt-gging hhn to hasten to her.
Harold .soon heard of her engagement
and forthwith left town. On the day
after hia departure Gertrude received a
letter from him, in which ho told her
that as she had refused to be his wife, he
had sworn that she should never be
Edward's. He warned her at the peril
wf Edward's life to tell no one the con
tents of his letter. After consideration,
she determined to send it to Edward.
which she did by tho next mail She
thought it best, however, to say nothing
about it to her parents.
Three days ftfter Harold's deDarture
the discovery was made that the tirm of
Moor os Uo. had been robbed of $340 in
bank notes, the thief havine placed boirus
money in Jieu of what he had taken, to
avoid immediate detection. Suspicion
at once pointed to Harold, and detectives
were placed on his track.
Another week flew bv and Edward's
return drew near. Ho had shortened
his Stav at homo in nrrtpr In he -with
Gertrude. Nothing had been heard of
Harold, though careful search had been
made for him. It was tho universal
opinion that he had sought refuge in tho
far West. Preparations were made at
Mr. Moor's for Edward's reception, and
all went merry, as though nothing wrong
had occurred; for, indeed, Gertrude's
parents felt grateful that Harold had
only gotten $340 instead of their affec
tionate daughter, whose happiness would
have been wrecked had she become his
wife.
We have stated that it was the univer
sal opinion that Harold had gone West;
but there was at least one-exception.
Gertrude did not believe it. She could
not forget what he had written to her.
She was more than once about to tell her
fiarents, but the warning he had given
ter prevented her doinjr so. On the
night preceding the day on which Ed
ward was expected to arrive, she retired
to her room at an early hour. Her mind
was ruled with apprehensions of evil.
She spent several hours in meditation.
occasionally breathing a silent prayer to
God that all might be well with Edward
and that she might see him on the mor
row. She never once thought of her
own safety. Why should she P Harold
had made no threats against her. and
besides she was apparently beyond his
reach. The clock had tolled the hour of
twelve. Gertrude felt drowsv. but feared
to close her eyes in slumber lest she
should be awakened by some horrible
aream. At last, however, desmt.e her
efforts, she fell asleep on the chair with
her head reclining on the 6tand. Some
time afterward she awoke very much
frightened. How long she had slept she
did not know. The candle had gone
out and the room was enveloped in dark
ness, sne endeavored to recall the cause
of her fright; but, failing to do so, she
nung jerseii on the bed and was soon
wrapped in slumber again. But once
more she awoke. Tho room was dimly
lighted by tho moon, which had just
risen. A rustling noise on the carpet at
tracted her attention, and, looking in the
direction of the window whence the
noise came, she saw a man stealthily ad
vancing toward her. She sprang to her
leet and attempted to scream: but a
strong arm was placed around her waist
and a hand over her mouth, and a voice
which she knew whispered in her ear.
Attempt to escape or- mako a noise.
pretty bird, if you dare." Lifting her in
his arms, he glided out of the window
and hurried through the lot back of the
house to the allev. where a camase
awaited him, into which he conveyed
the terrified girl and gave orders to the
driver to make all possible speed, as day
light was last approaching. Gertrude
went verv bitterlv. She wiu nnw in the
hands of Harold Fulton. What fate
awaited her she could not tell; but she
prayed that God might give her strength
to endure whatever should come.
An hour had elapsed, and the carriage
was rolling rapidly along the road, when
Gertrude, whose weeping had somewhat
subsided, discovered that Harold was
asleep. No words had been spoken since
starting except by the driver, who
swore occasionally at the horses, but
tor sometime he. too. had been silent.
Gertrude at once conceived the idea of
making her escape. She listened a few
minutes at Harold's heavy breathing,
and being satisfied that he was asleep,
she arose softly and looked out of the
rear end of the carriage. She could
easily and silently let herself to the
ground, she thought. She stood motion
less, uncertain what to do. The driver
cracked his whip over the horses, and
the carriage went rolling along at in
creased speed. Her heart, beat heavily
and seemed to rise in her throat, for she
learcd she would be detected. She cave
one step toward the seat; but no, she
would risk detection rather than submit
quietly to the doom that awaited her if
she remained in Harold s power. She
glanced at the driver to see that ho was
not observing her. and with a nraver on
her lips that her undertaking might be
successful, she slid noiselessly to the
ground. No one had seen her, and soon
the noise of the receding carriage died
in the distance. Throwing herself on
her knees, the young eirl. who had been
brought up by religious parents, thanked
tho God whom she had karned to trust
from childhood for the success of her
undertaking thus far, and implored Him
to enable her to return safe home again.
Rising from her knees, she began at once
her journey ; for well she knew that
sooner or later her escape would be
discovered, and an attempt made to re
capture her.
On, on she went, getting nearer and
nearer nnme. 1)v H awn oil tlm mm
. ' J ' . 1 . VJ 0UU
rose in all its majestic splendor and cast
ils reiuiirens ravs over tne eartn.
Eventually our heroine drew near the
town. Soon she expected to be safe at
home. But now the hopes that all along
bar! filled lifr hrpntil. travAivavtn ilfwnnii..
for. looking hack shn nhaerirprl a rwaa-
man approaching her at full speed. She
uiougui it must, De iiaroiu. determined
on a last effort, she began to run: but
she was sure thin ennui nr.t lust 1. .,,
1 le was fa&t paininc nn iter nn, ulio who
expecting soon 10 De-seizeu in his rutl
leHd crrnsn when n. half itAvon 1 w , .
came galloping around a curve in the
road, and she fell fainting to the ground
as uiey uasueu iuriousiy past her.
lively race ensued, which resulted in
Harold s capture. But there whm nne
who did not engage in the pursuit. It
was Mwura Kutlicrtnrrl u'l.n Im.t
rived in town by the six o'clock train
ana. learning soon alter ot liertrmie'i
abduction, had engaged at once in the
search. He alighted and endeavored to
rQviye her, but failing m this ho -took
uri iu mo niiutf huu out? U.ICK U) town,
where medical assistance was procurei
and she was soon restored to conscious
ness.
A few weeks afterward Edward and
Gertrude were married in the Methodist
church by the Rev. Reuben Homes
Edward is now a partner in the firm of
Moor & Co.
As to Harold Fulton, he was con
vicieu anil Kenr T.n nrwnn tnr nun vium
At the expiration ol his sentence he went
to tho West, and was never acain heard
of by those whom he had persecuted and
sought to wrong.
A Suggestion.
We have not space in the Rcqislcr for
an extended tale; but we have evolved
an idea for one, which idea we arc too
unselfish to withhold from a wailing
public because we cannot get all the
glory of it. If some skillful pen will but
till in this bare outline with rich rhe
toric and vivid imagination, not only
will some " interestin' readin' " be pro
duced, but a great moral engine will be
sent into the world to accomplish great
good. We should, perhaps, entitle our
romance
"A BRAND FROM THE BURNING;
OK, THE DELINQUENT SUnSCKIBEI'8 SAL
VATION.
We would introduce the first chapter
with a picture of the heretofore honest
and prosperous farmer's happy home.
The angel of peace dwelleth there, and
the country paper comes to his postoflice
box every week.
Having been supporting this countv
paper for some four years without paying
for it, he is surprised one day to get a po
lite note lm tne publisher to cash up.
Indignant at beinjj dunned, he resolves
to punish the base insulter of his dignity
by beating him out of the whole bill.
Ah, rash resolve ! " This, this, the source
of all thy ills!"
As delay makes his fatal purpose mani
fest, direful consequences follow; his
friends fall away and recognize him no
more ; the wife of his bosom deserts him
and files an application in a Chicago po
lice court for divorce; his daughter
elopes with a lightning-rod peddler and
his best horse and buggy ; his son, losing
all self-respect in his father's degrada
tion, goes to the city and enters politics ;
his cattle start on " a journey to the cen
ter of the earth," through a neighboring
quagmire; his hogs die of cholera; his
corn yields only tassels all mankind and
nature seem to conspire his ruin. Job
had his comforters, spiritual and human ;
but " what charm shall soothe the melan
choly " of the WTetch who bears upon
his soul the purpose of defrauding the
trustful editor!
Chapter 2. At last, deserted bv all
but his faithful dog (who has been kept
in ignorance ot the facts of the case), our
delinquent resolves to end his bitter
existence by suicide. (We suggest to the
previously-mentioned skillful pen that
the scene here should be very gloomy
dark cliffs, stormy sea, blood-red sun,
etc.) Just as he is about to drain the
fatal draught (or shoot the fatal shot, or
stab the fatal stab we also leave this to
the taste of the filler-in) the spirit of
mercy, willing to pjive the old man an
other chance, inspires within him the
thought" Suppose I pay the printer,
and all may yet be well!" Seizing the
idea with avidity, and the dog by the
collar, he hies him to the neighlxmng
town, neanzing mere thirteen dollars
from the sale of this faithful animal, he
repairs to the editorial sanctum, pays his
arrears ana ior a year in advance, and
has enough left to "set 'em up all
around." His atonement is complete,
and he walks forth once more " a man
among his fellow-men." (The editor's
astonishment and joy at being the pos
sessor of eleven dollars all at one time
should bo artistically pictured.)
Chapteh 3 shows tile inevitably happy
result of this Christian action. Fortune
smiles broadly upon him once more his
wife withdraws her divorce suit and re
turns to his arms; the eloping liJitning
rod peddler turns out a wealthy Russian
count in disguise, and restores to our
farmer the lost broad acres; the son
abandons political life and becomes once
more a respectable citizen ; his kino wax
fat, and hjs wheat fields yield some sixty
and some a hundred-fold. The scene
closes with a bright picture of the
prompt-paying subscriber's hanpv fire
side.
If the above sketch, eraphieallv de-M
iineateu anu Droadiy published, does not
rouse many a delinquent conscience into
action, then is all moral suasion vain,
and tho butt end of the law our only re
course. PritUersy Register,
y . . .1 . V. . . . . 1
Cabbage-Tree Ifgd's story.
A writer in the Boston Commercial
Bulletin upon life in Australia relates
this yarn : One of the stories told me by
the driver as we jolted along had relation
to tho depth of the mud which covered
the road. I have heard the same story
in various forms since, for Ned was in
the habit of telling it to every passenger
that he carried to the diggings. I have
also heard the same story assigned to a
California driver. No matter; I know
it was told to me by Cabbage-Tree Ned
in 1852.
" You see, young fellow," said he, " I
was driving along keeping well to the
right of the road where the mud was
shallowest, for I knew that I had a
heavy load which 'ud prevent tho coach
from floating, and besides none 'o my
horses could swim. I had just got to
about where we are now when I noticed
what I thought was a hat moving along
on the top of the mud just a little ahead
o' me on my left.
" I could not make out what it was at
first, but at last I seed it was a hat and
I felt kind o' frightened. Not that I'd
be frightened at a hat, but what I was
frightened at was that the hat was mov
ing along in the same direction as my
self without any visible means. Jingo,
thinks I, now here's a go; what tho
deuce can it be? By-and-bye I came up
abreast of it, and then got a little ahead
of it. Then I seed there was a face un
der the hat jingo if it wasn't a man.
"Hallo, friend," says I, "what are you
tramping through the mud in that way
for? Come along here, and I'll give you
a lift in tho coach."
" What would I get into your coach
for," he cried, "and leave my own
horse P" "And sure enough ho was rid
ing a horse, for I saw the cars of thu
animal just ahead of him sticking out of
me mud, out the horse, being tired, was
swimming low; yes, the mud was very
deep that day,"
In the Trenches at Cold Harbor.
A writer in the New York Sun, who
was a young primer in the Federal army,
gives this incident of life in the trenches
at Cold Harbor, Va., during the terrific
fighting early in June, 1804 : By daylight
wo had our earthwork finished, and were
safe. The heavy artillery, armed as in
fantry, were some sixty or seventy yards
in front of us. We being on the crest of
the hill, they were below us. Behind us
were a couple of Delaware regiments,
the two havingabout 140 men combined.
Back of us was a ravine, an alder swamp,
and in the thickets bordering on the
swamp was a spring of clear, cold water.
The men in front of us had to go to this
spring for water. They would draw lots
to see who should run across the danger
ous open grounds. This settled, the vic
tim would hang fifteen or twenty can
teens around him; then, crouching low
in the rifle pits, he would give a great
jump, and when he struck the ground,
was running at the top of His speed for
our earthwork. Of course every Confed
erate sharpshooter in range fired at him.
Some of these men were shot dead ; but
generally they ran into the earthwork
with a "laugh. After .filling their can
teens, they would sit and smoke and talk,
nerving themselves for the deadly return.
Adjusting the canteens, they would go
out of tho works on a run, and run back
over tho bullet-swept course. Some
times they would come to us in pairs.
One day two Albany men came leaping
into our battery. After filling their can
teens, they sat and talked of the beauti
ful city on the Hudson, and finally
started together for their rifle pit. I
watched through an embrasure and saw
one fall. Instantly Le began to dig a
little hollow with his hands in the sandy
soil, and instantly the Confederate sharp
shooters went to work on him. The dust
flew upon one side of him, then on the
other. The wounded soldier kept scrap
ing his little trench in the sand. We
called to him. He answered that his
leg was "broken below the knee by a rifle
ball. From the rifle pit we heard them
call to him to take ofThis canteens, tie the
strings together and set them on one
side. He did so, and the thirsty men in
the pits drew lots to see who would risk
his life for the water. I got keenly in
terested in this dicing with death, and
watched intent. A soldier springs out of
the pit. Running obliquely, he stoops as
he passes the canteens, grasps the strings,
turns, and in a flash is safe. Looking
out I see tho dust rise in little pufls
around the wounded man, and with
quickening breath feel that his minutes
are numbered. I note a conspicuous
man in the rifle pit, and recognize him
as the comrade of the stricken soldier.
Ho calls to his disabled friend saying
that he is coming for him, and that he
must rise as he.comes near, and cling to
him when he stops, The hero leaves the
pit on a run ; the wounded man rises up ;
the runner clasps him in his arms: the
arms of the wounded one twino about
his neck, and he is carried into our bat
tery at full speed. To the honor of the
Confederate sharpshooters be it said that
when they understood what was being
done they ceased shooting.
Xatural Enemies of tho Telegraph.
There is, apparently, no apparatus so
liable to bo interfered with by-what we
may call natural causes as the electric
telegraph. Fish gnaw and mollusks
overweight and break the submarine con
ductors of the subterranean wires; while
there is at least one instance of a frolic
some whala entangling himself in a
deep sea cable, to its utter disorganiza
tion. It is stated that "within the three
years ending 1878 there have been sixty
serious interruptions to telegraphic com
munication, m buniatra, by elephants,
In one instance, these sagacious animals,
most likely fearing snares, destroyed a
considerable portion of the line, hiding
away the wires and insulators in a cane
brake. Monkeys of all tribes and sizes,
too, in that favored island, uso the poles
and wires as gymnasia, occasionally
breaking them and carrying off the in
sulators; while the numerous tigers,
bears and buffaloes on the track render
tho watching and repair of the line a
duty of great danger. In Australia,
where there are no wild animals to in
jure the wires, which are carried great
distances overland, they arc said to bo
frequently cut down by the scarcely less
wild aborigines, who manufacture from
them rings, armlets and other varieties
of barbaric ornament. It has been sug
gested as a means of protection in this
case that the posts should be construe
ted of iron, when the battery could be
used to astonish any native climbing
them with felonious intent. SeietUific
American.
An Accommodating Artist.
Tho following story is told of Thomas
I licks, the artist. The scene was Tren
ton Falls, N. Y., a summer or two ago.
Mr. Hicks, who had been on a trouting
expedition, was approaching tho inn
with a single large trout, which ho in
tended to sketch, when a gentleman who
had just arrived with a party of ladies,
noting his rough fisherman's costume,
took him for a servant of the house, and
called out: "Here, my man, do you
know all about the falls ?,; "Yes, sir,"
replied the artist. " Come, now, show
us the way there." "Certainly." The
artist led the way to the falls, and on tho
way was so entertaining that the tourist
insisted on his going over the whole
route with him. At the close of the
journey ho handed tho artist a dollar,
and asked his name. " Tom," was the
reply. "Well, Tom, you aro tho most
intelligent guide I ever met, and ought
to be in better business. If you ever
como to New York call on ine, and I
will try and help you." "Thank you,
sir," said tho artist, who had keenly en
joyed the situation, and had accepted the
dollar rather than mortify the guest by
an explanation. Next day the guest
told the landlord that he wanted to se
cure "Tom's" services another day. As
the landlord replied that no " Tom " was
in his service, the truth soon came out,
but Mr. Hicks keeps the dollar as a sou
, veuir of his afternoon's work as a guide.
Farm Life.
Saw ye tho farmer at his plow,
As ye were riding by?
Or wearied 'neath the noonday toil,
When summer suns were high T
And thought you that his lot wns hard,
And did you thank your God
That you and yours were not condemned
Thus like a slave to plod T
Come see him at his harvest home,
When garden, field and tree
Conspire with flowing store to fill
His barn and ginnery ; ,
His beautiful children gayly sport
'Amid the new-mown hay,
Or proudly aid with vigorous arm
His tasks as best they may.
Tho Harvest-Giver is his friend,
The Maker of the soil,
And earth, the mother, gives them bread,
And cheers their patient toil;
Come join them around their winter
hearth,
Tho heartfelt pleasure see
And you can better judge how blest
The farmer's lilo may bo.
Mrs. Sigonrney.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
A turtle recently brought to New York
was eight feet long and six feet broad.
North and South Carolina and Louis
iana produce annually 80,000,000 pounds
of . ice.
It is a peculiar feature of tho butler
market that a bad article outranks a
good one.
A wife costs ten cows in Zululand.
What can be the matter with the cows !
Boston Post.
This is tho time of tho year when
the sentimental youth names a row-boat
after his girl, and has it painted green.
Mr. Vanderbilt's income is over $ 1,000
an hour which, says a Western editor,
is more than some of us make fn a whole
day.
If you are over-anxious to know why
the elephant wears a trunk, irritate him
sufficiently, and you will discover that
he carries his choler in it. New llavtn
Register.
" There aro too many women in the
world ; sixty thousand more women than
men in Massachusetts," growled the
husband. " That is the survival of the
fittest,' my dear,'.' replied the wife.
Over 60,000 tea plants have lately been
distributed in the Middle and Southern
States by tho United States Bureau of
Agriculture. In about four years these
plants will be largo enough to allow a
full picking of leaves.
" AVell, how is the spring trade?" said
a gentleman to a friend the other day.
"Dry goods never brisker," was the re
ply. "My wife shops all day, every
chair in tho house is covered with bun
dles, and I think of sending my pocket
book out of town for a change of air
it's so thin."
About this time of year city people
are getting terribly anxious about the
welfare of the country cousin. This
anxiety and solicitude will grow as the
season advances, and, when they can
bear it no longer, they will pack uu four
children and two trunks and go and sec
about it. Middletoivn Transcript.
A NICE SCHF.AM.
Gaily the maiden,
In colors bright,
Walks with her lover
In the twilight,
Chattering so morrily
O'er hill and dale,
Till they encounter
" Ioe cream lor sale"
Then the young man wUhos
that Socrates hud never dis
covered ice-cream, or tliut ho
had borrowed A quarter bo
fore he loll home.
. Jrew York Exprtss.
Statistics for Girls.
A young English statistician who was
paying court to a young lady, thought
to turprlse her with his immense erudi
tion. Producing his note-book, she
thought he was about to indite a love
sonnet, but was slightly taken aback by
the following question :
"How many meals do you eat a day?"
"Why, three, of course; but of all tho
oddest questions."
" Never mind, dear, I'll toll you all
about it in a moment."
His pencil was rapidly at work. At
last, fondly clasping her slender waist :
"Now, my darling, I've got it, and if
you wish to know how much has passed
through that adorable little mouth in
the last seventeen years, 1 can give you
the exact figures."
" Goodness! Gracious! What can you
mean? "
" Now, just listen," says he, " and you
will hear exactly what you have U'en
obliged to absorb to maintain those
charms which aro to make the happiness
cf my life."
" But 1 don't want to hear,"
" Ah, you are surprised, no doubt, but
statistics aro wonderful things."
"Just listen. You are now seventeen
years old, so that in fifteen years you
have absorbed oxen or calves, 5; sheep
and lambs, 14; chickens, 3.7; ducks,
304; geese, 12; turkeys, UK); game of
various kinds, 821; fishes, ItSO; eggs.
3,124; vegetables (bunches), 700; fruit
(baskets), (W3; cheese, 102; bread, cake,
etc., (in sacks of Hour), 40: tea and collee
(cups), 18,000; water (gallons), 3,000."
At this the maiden revolted, and
jumping up, exclaimed :
"1 think you are very impertinent,
and disgusting besides, and I will not
stay to listen to you!" upon which she
flew into the house.
He gazed after her with an abstracted
air and left, saying to himself:
"If she kept talking ut that rate
twelve hours out of tweuty-four, her
jaws would in twenty years travel a dis
tance of 1,332,124 miles."
The maiden within two months mar
ried a well-to-do grocer, who was no
statistician.