Orleans County Monitor from Barton, Vermont on October 22, 1877 · 1
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Orleans County Monitor from Barton, Vermont · 1

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Monday, October 22, 1877
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VOL. 6. BARTOK, VERMONT, MONDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1877. NO. 43. TSIIfESS UIIIJUCTOIIY. BARTON. MKS. R. G. SHAW, BALER IN MILLIXERY AND ALL KINDS OF Fancy Goods. Work done at short notice and sfaction guaranteed. (Skinner & Drew's Block.) 32 BOBINSON BROTHERS, EALERS IN CHOICE BRANDS OF FLOUR Depot Store. J. N. WEBSTER, IKE, FIRE AND ACCIDENT INSURANCE Agent. . PERCIVAL A FORSAITH, - EALEK IN FURNITURE, COFFINS 4 CASKETS C. F. Peecival. F.T. Fobsaith. J. N. WEBSTER, HOTOGRAPHER. DEALER IN STEREOSCOPES, Views, Oval, Square, and Rustic Frames. -i t onRiKsnv AND SURVEYOR AND, PRACTICAL MILL- wlfrht. Will W.no-inefir nnrl do Mill worK. M l be Giant Water wneel, ana au mm nacuiueij. if W BALDWIN. TTORNEY AT LAW. SOLICITOR IN CHAN- L. vol jr, v 1 i.fi v. 11 v w" " " (. trance Co.,Barlington,Vt. Insurance of all kinds . nn, i min, m, in, I nflmn n n miii.uai jiiih ed in tue Deal stocc ana MPtuaiijunniaHica,. J. J. HILL, trCCESSOR TO F. P. CHENEY, WILL CONTINUE to sell a Laree Variety or Sewing ana juiittiDg :hines. Orders solicited. U K. IITITTON. trCCESSOR TO WM. JOSLYN SONS. DEALER in Drugs, "Medicines, wye oinns,rauiw, uuo.unjr-Turpentine, Varnishes, Brushes, Window Glass, y. BOOKS, otanonery ana cauuy ouuu. !VlISCE:iL.L.AlSrEOTJS. FRED HOYT, RACTICAL TAILOR. AND DEALER IN READY- Made Clothing. Barton Landing, vt. tip q a p TinowN A F. C. LEONARD. ICLECTIO PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS, OF- flces at Barton Landing ana west ununwwu, t. Win. Twnmlilv's. Barton Landing: . Leonard at Frances Chase's, West Charleston. C. J. ROWELL, mmrwTDHJTl'V ATI T AW TJAUTYVW 1 . A KDTNG. V T. L Special attention given to matters in Bankruptcy riT. .1 TT.I..J U.... BUlbS 1U IUO UUIliGU DUMwD bVUim v -- WM . B. DODGE, OWELL, VT., AGENT FOR THE CHAMPLAIN Mutual Fire Insurance Uompany, isiiinngwu, Tnsnr Dwellings. Farm Prorjerty. Household fciture, etc., and Mercantile Risks, for the term of e or Ave years. All honest losses equnaDiy ksted and promptly paid. 4-45-3 L. H. THOMPSON. TTORNEY, COUNSELLOR AND SOLICITOR. Also Bounty and Pension Agent, IraBburgh, Yt. W. W. MILES, TTORNEY AT LAW, I 2-29 - North Craftsbury, Vt. ROBERT GILLIS, EALER IN HARNESSES, blankets, whips, curry combs, 4c, Barton sanding, vt. J, F. WRIGHT, VhyBician and Surgeon. t Office at hisresldence, uaium uuuuuig, i. 1)1? . O- A. 1IEM1S. v 'OMOSOPATHIC PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON IS urauBDury, Vermont. J. W. SCOTT, fANUFACTURER OF AND DEALER IN ALL Es to conform to hard times, and work warranted. ler, Vt. -v- 07-11 u . jl . J--' j-v lu yy -9 REPRESENTING GILLIS, MORISON 4 CO., in stock at Barton Landing, Vt,, in his new store ice's building, a large stock of Ibber Coated, Tin Lined, Tarred and Plain Wrought HOE PIPE, AT WHOLESALE AND EBTAIX, '.Rnelnllv adanted for the conveyance of water. Patent Pumps, Hydraulic Rains, Chain lints, etc., etc. Cast Iron and Akron hewer ripe, r ni ana water innings, crass aim v,iw"' i - Ives, UOCkS, JfaUCetB, UOngs, DUKiui ii uiduicd, hips. Drive Well Points, Well Points and Pumps Kber Hose Packing, Hose Pipes, etc., etc. Cast Iron Sinks, Plain, Knameieo ana lvanize.l. Also. Plumbers' Materials. Special nt.inti cHvnn to Heating Buildings with Hot Air, km and Hot Water. Estimates given for Introduc-water for Fire and Family Use. Fire Engines, Fire Anoaratus of all kinds. teg- Good Plumbing done at short notice. Send t Price List and catalogue, arton Landing, Yt, July 2. 1877. 52 THE MILD POWER C U R E S ! OMEOPATHIC SPECIFICS. Been in general use for twenty years. ery where proved the most SAFE, SIMPLE, ONOMICAL and EFFICIENT medicines own. They are just what the people want, ving time and money, averting sickness and fieri ng. Each single specific the well triett Sescription of an eminent physician. Kos. Cures. ueni. 1. Fevers, Congestion, Inflammations, - so 2. Worms, Worm Fever, Worm Colic, - 25 8. Crying-Colic, or Teething of Infants, - - 25 4. Diarrhoea, of Children or Adults, - - - 25 5. Dysentery, Griping, Bilious uoiic, - - : - z 6. Cholera-Morbus, Vomiting, - - - - - 25 7. Coughs, Colds, Bronchitis, ----- 25 8. Neuralgia, Toothache, Faceache, - - - 25 9. Headaches, Sick Headache, vertigo, z 0. Dyspepsia, Bilious Stomach, - - - - - 25" 1. jsuppressea.or l aiuiui reriuuu, - - - . . 2. Whites, too Profuse Periods, r - - - - ' 25 , 13. Croup, Cough, Difficult Breating, - - - 25 . 4. Bait Kheume, Erysipelas, uruptions, - - za 5. Rheumatism, Rheumatic Pains, - - r ' 25 ; 16. Fever and Ague, Chill Fever, - - - - - 50 B7. Piles. Blind or Bleedintr. - 50 18. Ophthalmy, or Sore or Weak Eyes, - - 50 19. Catarrh, Acute or Chronic, Influenza, - 50 20. Whooping-Cough, Violent Coughs, - - 50 21. Asthma, Oppressed Breathing, - - - - 50 22. Ear Discharges, Impaired Hearing, - - 50 23. Scrofula, Enlarged Glands, Swellings, . - 50 24. General Debility, Physical Weakness, . 50 25. Dropsy and Scanty Secretions, - - - - 50 28. Sea-Sickness, Sickness from Riding, - - 50 7. Kidney-Disease, Gravel, ------ 50 8. Mervous Debility, Beminal Weakness or involuntary Discharges, - - - iw Sore Mouth, Canker, - - - - - - - 50 10. Urinary Weakness, Wetting the Bed, - - 50 1. Painful Periods, with Spasms, - 50 ' 2. Diseased Heart, Palpitations, etc., - 1 00 ., 3. Epilepsy, Spasms, St. Vitus' Dance, - - 50 4. Dlotheria. Ulcerated Sore Throat, - - - 50 B5. Chronic Congestions and Eruptions, - - 50 FAMILY CASES. se fMorocco) with above 85 large vials and Manuel of directions, ------ $10 00 se (Morocco) of 20 large vials and Book, - - 6 00 b. Tlimin remndiea are sent bv the case or Ligle box to any part of the country, free of arge, on receipt ot price. A oar ess . umphreys' Homeopathic Medicine Co., Office and Depot, No. 109 Fulton Street, N. Y. . For Sole by all Druggists. ' Sold in Barton by E. F. Dutton and L. D. Wilson, l AGENTS WANTED FOR THE f iriemtal ivoniU I contains full descriptions of South era Rwi, Turkey. Itrypt, Ureeee, Ania Minor, me Mioiy Juaao, etc. ihir&tfw1 with &n fine Rnmrinm. Thu IB the orutf apiece UMorj putuisnea ox lae counares uiTWTca m wo tassian-TurMshWar vc Travel in all tha eonntriea named. It Li a live and This fPMnil nw wnvV a 4Ti roanlf rrf Ttftmt anrl CxfeBD t imply " book the omvr one on the suhject and the fast- mt fwHmcr nn avm nnhUahf. Amnt mold 6 CODieS iie first day; another, lttH in one week; another, SI a in ine tniriwhin. Agents, don't mlaa thlitheverr BEST chance J make money oflerel in the lht three trars. Now ia your m. Send for bur Extra Terms to Apenta, and a full de-;rntion of th'm creatwork andiudsreforvouraelvea. Addreaa D. McDougall, MERCHANT TAILOR Barton, Vt., Keeps constantly on hand : Foreip ail Domestic Woolens And Gent's Furnishing Goods. New India Wheat Flour AT BABTON GRIST MILL. WHAT OF THAT 1 Tired! Well, what of that? Didst fancy life was spent on beds of ease, Fluttering the rose leaves scattered by the breeze ? Come, rouse thee ! work while it is called to-day I Coward, arise I go forth upon thy way ! Lonely! And what of that ? Some must be lonely! 'Tis not given to all To feel a heart responsive rise and fall, To blend another life into its own. Work may be done in loneliness. Work on. Dark ! Well, and what of that? Didst fondly dream the sun would never set? Dost fear to lose thy way? Take courage yet ! Learn thou to walk by faith and not by sight; Thy steps will guided be, and guided right. Phrenological Journal. : THE FISHERS OF GALILEE. BY ALICE CAST. There were seven fishers with nets in their hands, And they walked and talked by the sea side sands, Yet sweet as the sweet dew fall The words they spake though they spoke so low, Across the long, dim centuries flow, And we knew them, one and all Ay, know them and love them all. Seven sad men in the day b of old, . ' And one was gentle, and one was bold, : And they walked with downward eyes; The bold was Feter, the gentle was John, And they all were sad, for the Lord was gono, And they knew not if He would rise-Knew not if their dead would rise. The livelong night, till the moon went out In the drowning waters, they beat about; Beat slow through the fog their way; And the sails drooped down with wringing wet, And no man drew but an empty net, And now 'twas break of day The great glad break of day. .. "Cast in your nets on the other side!" ('Twas Jesus speaking across the tide ;) And they cast and were dragging hard But that disciple whom Jesus loved Cried straightway out, for his heart was moved, "It is our risen Lord Our Master and our Lord?" Then Simon, girding his fisher's coat. Went over the nets and out of the boat Ay, first of them all was he; Repenting sore the denial past, He feared no longer his heart to cast Like an achor into the sea Down deep in the hungry sea. And the others through the mist so dim In a little ship came after him. Dragging their net through the tide: And when they had gotten close to the land, They saw a fire of coals on the sand, . , ,:, ,- And, with arms of love so wide, Jesus, the crucified! ' ' " Tis long, and long, and long ago Since the rosy lights began to flow O'er the hills of Galilee ; And with eager eyes and lifted hands The seven fishers saw on the sands The fire of coals by the sea On the wet, wild sands by the sea. Tis long ago, yet faith in our souls Is kindled just by the fire of coals That streamed o'er the mists of the sea ; Where Peter girdled his fisher's coat, Went over the nets and out of the boat. To answer, "Lov'st thou me?" , . Thrice over, "Lov'st thou me?" A two foot rule keep the feet dry. Trobahlv , wua to accompany a lady vocalist is a hus-band. Thf? T?oaton ladv who makes a "dash has brought her husbaDd to a full stop. The four boxes that rule the world : The ballot box, the jury box, the car- triage box ana tne Danaoox. A woman at eighteen wants five trunks when she travels. At fifty she can get along with a bottle of cold tea. What did the vouno: ladv mean when j 0 y shft said to her lover. "You mav be too late for the train, but you can take a buss V" ' "Madam." said a certain nameless one to Mis. Brown, the other day, "you are talking ; simple rubbish." "Yes, sir," replied the ever-crushing lady, "because I wish you to comprehend me." Mv dear." said a husband, in start- line tones, after awakening his wife in the night, "I have swallowed a dose of strychnine I "Well, then, do lor goodness sake lie still, or it may come up." A little girl was teaching her little brother the Lord's Prayer, and when she had said, "give us this day our daily bread," he suddenly called out: "Pray for syrup, too, sister ; pray sy"rup, too." There is a man in New York so close that when he attends church he occupies the pew furthest from the pulpit, to save the interest on his money while tne collectors are passing the plates for contri bution. Husband. "My dear, why are you making such an elaborate toilet ? Now that you are married, you need not dress to Dlease the men." Wife. "I do not dress to please the men, my dear, but to worry other women." Marriages are not so common as usual. "The young ladies," says the New York Mail, "ought to get up a strike for their altars. The strike for the fires can come in afterward, when the question of "build ing them comes up." "What do you get from iodine ?" asked a medical professor of one of our popular colleges. "We get a-ah, usu ally get idiotic acid, yawned the stu dent. "Have you been taking some?' quietly asked the professor. , An old German buried his wife, and was telling a sympathizing neighbor of her disease. His mend inquired it the lamented "was resigned to her fate." "Resigned! exclaimed the honest leu ton, "mein Gott, she had to be." "Is your father at home ?" inquired the man of the little girl who admitted him. "Is your name Bill?" she asked. "Some people call me so, he replied. "Then he is not at home, for I heard him tell John if any bill came, to -say he was not at home ! An old-fashioned minister was preach ing in a tight, unventilated church, in which, by some means, a window was left partly open. A good deacon, during the sermon, closed it. The minister stopped, and, turning to the deacon, said, in solemn tones : "If I were preaching in a jug I believe you would put the cork m. Two men were riding in the cars on a railway the other morning, when - one asked the other if he had a pleasant place of residence. "Yes," was the reply, "we have several nice rooms over a store." "Over a store ? I should not think that would be a quiet place." "O, it is quiet enough. The folks don't ad vertise." "O, I 8ee,".said the friend in a tone of relief. "Tramp, Tramp " A lonely country road, with the night closing upon it ; the sun set and the sky black, and white streaks where he had been ; the color gone from all the earth, even from the many-tinted maples and sumacs that an hour before had flamed in their October brilliancy ; the air fros ty and fresh just the night to go bowling swiftly home in a light wagon over a well-graded road, with the prospect of a bright fire and hot supper at the end of the journey. Mrs. Cuthbert wished that her husband would come "bowling home," as she lighted the lamp and placed it in the centre of the pretty tea table, so daintily set forth with her wedding glass and silver ; the supper would not be fit to eat if he were much later, and Mrs. Cuthbert was too conscientious a housewife not to feel alarmed at the idea of her good things being spoiled. But, like the even-tempered little woman she was, she only put an extra stick on the wood fire crackling on the hearth, and settled down in her favorite arm-chair, with her sewing to keep her hands busy, while her ears were on the alert for her husband's step, or a cry from the baby upstairs. She was quite alone, it being one of those periods that so often befall American housekeepers, when the "help" has taken it into her head to depart without waiting for a successor to be appointed. The fire snapped and blazed, the clock ticked on, and all was quiet. But if Mrs. Cuthbert had chanced to look up she might have seen a face pressed close against the window-pane an ugly face with a rough beard and tangled hair, a broken nose that looked most unprepossessing flattened on theglass,- and eyes that gleamedfgreedlly at the silver on the table but she did not and all was quiet. , The clock struck seven, and Mrs. Cuthbert started, surprised and distressed. She forgot about the supper frizzing away to nothing in the oven, and began to worry about her husband it was such a lonely walk, if it was only two miles, and she did wish he would come. Footsteps on the front porch sent her fears to the winds, and a spirit of mischief took possession of her in their atad t,rv dnnrLwas locked. ' and she would make him wait a lew minutes w pay him for making her wait so long. ; She bent her head and pretended not to notice, even when she heard the steps descend from the porch and tramp over the grass to the window. The sash was violently thrown up and the ugly face that had been regarding her a short time before, was thrust into the room, and then a fierce voice demanded: "Why don't you come and open the door for me?" r Mrs. Cuthbert nodded her pretty head and without turning around, answered, saucily : ; ; "No, sir, I don't mean to let you in, to-night." The ugly face looked thunder-struck, then frightened, and finally two grimy paws clutched the window, shutting it with a crash that made the glasses quiver, and the ugly face was gone. ; "Oh dear I now he's angry I always do carry my fun too far," cried Mrs. Cuthbert, springing from her chair and rushing into the hall. "George! George !" She turned the lock. "George!" The porch was empty, but she caught sight of a dark figure hurrying up the path to the barn. "Oh, you're not going to hide from me in that way, sir !" she called out, running down the steps and on toward the barn. The dark figure was swallowed up in the great black doorway before she reached it. . "Oh, you great goose !" she said, standing on the threshold, "don't you suppose I can find you? You had better give yourself up at once." Then she waited. The dark figure crouched still closer behind the old carriage, and there was no answer. "I shall find you, sir ; I know every corner," she gave warning ; then, with arms stretched out before her, commenced to search. In and put among the barrelsand boxes she went in the utter blackness, calling out merrily now and then that she would find him and punish him for giving her so much trouble. Once 6he almost touched the shrinking figure ; but it held its breath, and she passed on. It was a weird game of hide-and-seek ; the dark figure with the ugly face cowering among the wheels, listening with a strange kind of savage fear to the light footsteps that sounded now here, now there ; he heard them climb the ladder and patter about in the loft overhead, then come down again, and the voice not so merry now repeat her assurance of finding the truant, and a sudden desire entered his brain to spring upon her and choke her. It would not be the first time he had done such a deed, but her perfect audacity seemed to paralyze him, and again she passed him all uncon scious. He law her pause in the doorway, dimly outlined against the sky, and then disappear down the path. ; "Ef she ain't the pluckiest un !" he growled, as he crept from behind the carriage. "Hanged if she ain't a ghost or suthin." And with this peculiar comment on Mrs. Cuthbert's bravery, he shook himself and made his way out of the barn with a sidelong gait, as if he were used to slinking in and out of places. :': - "-j-: Mrs. Cuthbert meanwhile sped on to the house, her steps hastened by the idea that her husband might be there perhaps he might have slipped out of the barn while she was up in the loft, or perhaps he had not gone into the barn at all. j-i ' -. 'Alas for her hopes r'Th'siftingfoom was empty, and just as she had left it. Not despairing yet, she snatched up the lamp, and determined to search the house. Prom room to room she went, calling upon George, and looking into every closet and behind and under every article of furniture, but not a glimpse of her husband gladdened her eyes, and at last she sat down by the baby's cradle and burst into tears. "Oh, how can he be so cruel !" she sobbed, "and for such a little thing. He might have known I was only in fun ; but maybe he's only in fun himself, and will come in soon." Cheered by this last reflection, she trotted briskly down stairs, Btirred the fire into a blaze, and stood watching it, too fidgety to settle to her sewing again. The wood flamed noisily, then glowed a silent red, then crumbled and fell, an untidy, dreary mass of whitened ashes and dying embers, and still her husband did not come. " The clock struck nine, and Mrs. Cuth bert looked at it reproachfully, as if it were the time-piece's fault that it was so late. Where was her husband? Per haps he was wandering about in the dark, unable to find the house. Why hadn't she thought of that before ? She would put a lamp in every room. And in a few minutes lights were twinkling frbm all the windows, giving the little cottage quite a gay and festive air. Who could have guessed that a lonely woman and a sleeping child were its sole oceupants? Not the dark figure with the ugly face, doubled up under the lilac bushes that bordered the grav- - " . ' . . . . j As the hours wore on, another dark figure joined the one of the ugly face, and was greeted with an oath upon his laziness, and the information that "something was up," that the first chance was "spiled, ' . and they would have to "lay a while ;" and then both the dark figures, with many a curse and shiver, crouched together, biding their time. Poor Mrs. Cuthbert, as the night crept on, wandered from window to window, with the vague feeling that if, she could not see her husband from one, she might from another. Sometimes she stood at the door, listening intently, and conjuring every breath of wind into the longed-for footsteps, her heart dying within her at each fresh disappointment. She must have walked miles in that Bmall house ; the baby waxed restless, and she was up many times to replace the coverings that the sturdy little legs had thrown off in climbing the invisible mountains that the child is always ascending in his sleep. The clock struck one. How like the voice of fate it sounded I It was not at all the cheerful ting that, when the sun was shining, had announced the dinner hour that day. A distant dog barked, and Mrs. Cuthbert rushed to the door ; she had resumed her sewing to keep herself from going distracted, and she still clasped it in her hand. What a black, black night ! and how cold the wind was ! Hark ! she was certain she heard voices by the gate. Yes ; she did. Just then the baby began to cry, and only stopping to call back, "in a moment, darling," she plunged down the walk. . All was silent ; there was no one there. She stood with her hand upon the gate a few seconds, looking eagerly up the road, and then walked slowly back to the house. As the front door closed, the lilac bush by the gate quivered, and two dark figures crawled from under it. When Mrs. Cuthbert laid the baby in his cradle, after singing him back to the invisible mountains, the clock struck two, and Mrs. Cuthbert looked hopeless ness in the face. George was never coming - home, she decided. It was no use watching; he was never coming home any more. Then, as the next gust of wind sent a twig rat tling on the gravel, she was at the win dow, straining her eyes as she had been doing all the evening. How strange every familiar object in the house seemed 1 the lights burned so whitely, and the sitting-room looked so uncanny, with the tea tabic spread, and the hands of the clock marking, the small hours. An unseasonable moth went backing about the ceiling with what sounded a tremendous noise in that dead silenee ; and the fire refused point-blank to be cheerful, despite the armfuls of wswd piled on it Ilpw the hours dragged ! She seemed to hive lived years since she heard those foot&teps on the porch. Why had she been) such a fool ? Itf was five o'clock now, and the roosters fer and near began to herald the approach of dawn. The sky turned from black to gray, and a whitish smudge in the east announced the rise of the glorious sun. Mrs. Cuthbert put out the lights and went to the front door. A drizzling rain had set in and the damp, raw air made her shudofcr. She went back to the sit ting-roon, and, in a dreary, mechanical kind of way, lit the fire there and in the littfe $Kchen ; then brought baby down stair. washed and dressed him as usual andfut him on the floor to play while she prepared his bread and milk. a- Bui baby was not destined toxget his breakfast just yet, for at that moment a light step was heard in the entry, and a tall young man walked into the room. The bread and milk were dropped anywhere, and Mrs. Cuthbert flung herself into his arms, sobbing, crying, and begging his pardon all in a breath. ' "I'll never do it again. Won't you forgive me, George ?" "Forgive what? -I haven't anything to forgive," said the astonished George. "Oh, yes, you have. I know it was dreadfully wicked of me ; but I will never do it again." . ' : ; - "What on earth is the matter ?" "Won't you forgive me?" was all Mrs. Cuthbert's answer. , "Eleanor, what t the matter?" de manded the distracted young man, all kinds of awful visions flying through his brain. "What have vou done ?" "Why, I didn't let you in when you came home last night. I only meant to keep you waiting a little while." "When I came home last night ? Why, I haven't been within fifteen miles of the house since seven o'clock yesterday morning. I've just come down on the four-thirty train." "Didn't you come home last night ?" gasped Mrs. Cuthbert "Come home ? No, of course I didn't ; I've been working at the office half the night. Didn't you receive my telegram Baying I should be detained in the city all night?" "No, I haven't received any. What does it all mean ?" in rathe'r an IncofrerentrslylerTBe sure," but she made him understand, and he was greatly puzzled as to whom it could have been. Mrs. Cuthbert, now that her mind was relieved, began to remember that she had eaten nothing since dinner the day before, and was soon flying about, broiling ham, and poaching eggs, stopping to have a hearty laugh over the charred re mains of her husband's supper, which she took from the oven. Then they sat down to the tea table, baby and all, and ate their breakfast. That afternoon the village youth who did their "chores" was unusually late in coming, but when he did arrive it was with such a budget of news that his tardiness was forgiven. He had been an eye-witness to the capture to two burglars at Squire Jones' ; they had been discovered in the very act of carrying off the silver. "Laws, how they fit !" said the boy. "They smashed Bill Williams' head in with the plate basket, an' came 'most near hittin' me ; an' when we had : 'em caught tight, how they did talk ! They told about how one of 'em tried to get into this house, but Mrs. Cuthbert would not let him in. He called to her through the window, but she wouldn't look around at him. When he left the window she came out of the house, and he ran away. She chased after him, but he hid till she went in again. After awhile she came out after him again, when he an' his pal waa hidin' under some bushes, an' they was afraid to tech her, 'cause they seen suthin shinin' in her hand, an' didn't know but it might be a six-shooter." - "My scissors, I suppose," faintly murmured Mrs. Cuthbert ; her husband only heard her. "Wa'al, they're safe enough now aa' I guess I'll fetch the coal," said the boy, with the stolidity of a true son of the soil, seizing the coal scuttle, but dropping it again to rummage in the inner pocket of hia jacket. ''Here's a letter for you, sir the man said I might as well bring it 'long, as his boy could not get up ; this way 'fore to-morrer mornin', an' you might be in a hurry.'' "My telegram," said Mr. Cuthbert, handing it to his wife. "What a convenience these modern scientific discoveries are!" ';,-. ..... The capitalist who made his thousands, while the soldier was standing between him and the enemy for thirteen dollars a month, now, when the financial skies are lowering, never once thinks of curtailing his own luxuries, but at once applies the pruning-knife to lop off a portion of the small pittance of the laboring man, who stood between him and the enemy when the life of the nation was at stake. Your goodness must have some edge to it, or else it is none. FIFTY CENTS A WEEK. "Tommy," observed a Ninth Street mother to her son, a youth of thirteen years, "you must cut some wood for the front stove. Mr. Crawford comes tonight." Mr. Crawford is a young man who is keeping company with Fanny, Tommy's sister. The time was one Wednesday evening. Tommy had been skating since school, and was now anxiously awaiting his supper. The announcement came upon him with a disagreeable force. 'ls that old rooster comin' around here to-night ?" he impetuously inquired. ; , -... : ; "Thomas !" cried the mother, in a voice of horror. ; k Thomas having eased his mind somewhat of the burden,,, proceeded to the wood-pile without further remark. r: He was not in a good hunior as he looked around for the ax, i, and . articles foreign to the search were moved with graceless haste. "This is a reg'lar dog's life," he moodily ejaculated. "First it's Sunday night, an' then it's Friday night, an' every little while an extra night is thrown in. I don't see what's the use of a girl about the house. If I've got to cut wood every time that fellow comes, I'll know the reason why. I won't be put on like this. I ain't going to be made a pack-mule of by all the Crawfords - and 'Fannys on earth. It's all nice enough for them to be in there toasting their shins and actin' sickish, but I notice that 1 have to do all the work. It's played out, by Jinks ! I ain't that kind of a hair-pin. I'd just like to have somebody tell me," he added, looking . around for the person in question, "how much of the candy an' oranges an other stuff that Fanny gets that I get. Not one whiff, by gracious ! Not one single, solitary whiff ! An' here I chop wood for her an him night after night, an' if it wasn't for me they'd shake all their teeth outen their heads. Oh, they are a sweet-scented pair, they are." ' Closing his remarks with this gloomy observation on his sister and her company, he worked away at the wood until the amount necessary; was prepared. About seven o'clock Mr. Crawford's knock sounded at the door ; Fanny's mother was to have let him in, but Tommy volunteered his services. He escorted the young gentleman into the front room, ddor,"he pointed to the stove, which was a welcome heat, and sternly inquired : "Is that what you'd call a good fire?" "Yes, indeed," said Mr. Crawford, rubbing his hands gratefully. "Ah !" observed Tommy, in a tone of relief, although his face scarcely relaxed the severity of its expression. , "You couldn't very well get along in here without a fire, could you ?" "Hardly." . . "S'pose not. Now, who do you s'pose made that fire ?" "Why I I suppose why, I don't know," said Mr. Crawford, apparently embarrassed by the question. "No ? Well, I can tell you ; I made that fire. . I cut the wood for it. I cut the wood and make every fire you have here. I've been doing it all the while you've come here, an you an' Fan have set by it, an' toasted yourselves, an' ate candy, an' sucked oranges. You an' Fan have had all the comfort of it, an' I've done all the work, every bit of it, an' not a smell of them candies and oranges have I had not one living smell." The unhappy boy knit his eyebrows, and instinctively - clenched his . hands. Scarcely less disturbed appeared the young man. He glanced uneasily from the fireman to the stove. But he made no reply. He -waited apprehensively for what was to follow. . "I'll bet you've got a pound of assort ed candies in your clothes this minute' for Fan." This came so directly in the form of an interrogation, that Mr. Crawford unhesitatingly nodded. "So I thought," pursued Fanny's brother. "Now, I want to tell you that if this fire business is to be carried on by me, there's got to be a different arrangement of awards. If not, you can come here and cut your own wood. Will you divvy on them candies ?" "Why why I hardly would"! like, to do that, Tommy. I got these for Fanny, you know." "Yes, I know," said Tommy, grimly. "When I see you coming up here again, I shall expect to see you luggin' an ax over your shoulder." ; Mr. Crawford looked nghast. "But, Tommy," he expostulated, "you won't go back on me like that ? I'll pay you for doing it" "Oh ! What will you pay?" "I'll give you fifty cents a week.' "Hope to die?" "Yes," said Mr. Crawford, eagerly. f "Then I am just your cheese," said the youth, the hard lines melting entirely out of his face. "There's nothing mean about me, but I don't want to go along in the dark. This thing had to be settled one way or the other, for it was wearing the life out of me. Bat now that it's fixed, you'll find me up to the mark every time, and if I don't make that stove rear right up on her hind legs, I am a bald-headed leper without a pedigree." And with a flourish expressive of the deepest earnestness, he stalked out of the room. WHAT IT COSTS. Those who commit crime seldom look at more than one side of the ballance sheet. Satan always shows the gilded side of sin, and that side only, when he tempts men ; and when they are drawn away by their own lusts, they take into account only the profit they hope to derive from an evil course How otherwise could so many intelligent men cover themselves with disgrace and plunge their families into a sea of wretchedness for the doubtful enjoyment of ill-gotten gains. We wish every young man, and every old man as well, could examine the following balance sheet drawn up by the New York Evening Post. It is the result of the forgeries committed by Wm. C. Gilman of that city, which recently came to light : . "He has gained, at most, one or two hundred thousand of dollars not a great fortune by any means, even if "it , had been honestly earned and could be openly enjoyed, and a mean and paltry sum with which to sneak away into some obscure hiding place and drag out the existence of a hunted felon. This is the sum total of the credit side of his profit and loss account The debit side makes a much larger showing. He has lost, in the first place, an honored name in the world a name which he inherited from his father and which he had kept in honor for years ; a name which was of priceless worth, and one which, estimated by a purely pecuniary standard, was good in bank and on the street for more than the sum that he has carried away with him He has lost, in the second place, his own self-respect, and must henceforth know himself as a felon. He has lost his liberty, too; for whether he shall be caught by the police and thrown into prison for his misdeeds, or shall escape the vigilance of the law's officers, he is henceforth without that liberty of action which alone makes life worth living ; he jnust run and hide ; he may not write his name upon inn registers, or proclaim it to his fellow-men ; he cannot live in his native land ; nor can he safely travel in any civilized country; he must hide as the hunted liaro-dTOor1 capture must be perpetually present as a hideous nightmare, from which the dawn brings no relief. He has lost, beside, his family. A wife and children were his, but they are his no longer. He is shut out forever from the home that he had made for himself. , His wife and children were dear to him doubtless, but he can see their faces no more forever ; he has sold them for money. Worse 8till,he has done them unrepairable wrong. They must suffer for the wrong that he has done, a punishment infinitely severer than the worst penalty that the law prescribes for such offences as his. He has brought upon them a calamity worse than death, a loss greater than bankruptcy could have brought. Those young children of his had a right to one inheritance; his good name was an entailed property which belonged to them and was held by him in trust He has destroyed it forever, leaving them infinitely poorer than they would have been had he wasted their uttermost substance, leaving them penniless in the streets. Money he might have regained for them, and they might have got it for themselves ; that good name is lost past recovery. When we thus cast up the profit and loss account of the misdoer, it seems incredible that any man of business, knowing as every business man does the great value of an honest reputation, should ever be so blind to his own selfish interests to leave all moral questions out of the account as to listen for a moment to the whispers of temptation." ; The School of Hard Knocks. A great deal of useless sympathy is in this day expended upon those who start out in life without social, or monetary help. Those are most to be congratulated who have at the beginning a rough tussel with circumstances. John ftuskin sets it down as one of his calamities that in early life he had "nothing to endure." A petted and dandled child makes a weak and insipid man. You say that Buskin just quoted disproves the theory. No ! he is showing in dejected, splenetic and irritable old age the need of the early cudgeling of adversity. A little experience of the hardship of life would have helped to make him gratefully happy now. No brawn of character without compulsory exertion. The men who sit strong in their social and financial elevations are those who did their climbing. Misfortune is a rough nurse, but she raises giants. Let our young people, instead of succumbing to the influence that would keep them back and down, take them as parallel bars, dumb bells, and weights of gymnasium by which they can get muscle for the strife. Consent not to beg your way to fortune, bat achieve it God is always on the side of the man who does his best God helps the man who tries to overcome diSculties. Exchange. ROVING FARMERS. There is a class of fanners, says . an -exchange paper, who are constantly on the lookout for a better , place to go. Ther farms are always "for sale,"; and they dream of luxurient lands, in some other part of the country, which can be bought "for a song," where they imag- j ine they would be more prosperous and : enjoy life better than where they now ; reside. Many of these men ""'own mortgaged farms ; and for such men to desire to remove where they can ' own ' a ' free farm ; though it be far, far away, is but a natural manifestation to better one's condition' which the human "mind cannot resist But where can 'those" men go, after selling their ' farms, and ' be contented ? This is a serious ques- 1 tion, which no man can Caswer:- of ..his own knowledge. . Suppose they can sell ; out, and command a thousand or fifteen' ' hundred dollars after--payingall their 5 debts, and they start for. "the West," Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, or some other ' State. Eighty acres of land, with a ;' comfortable house or log cabin on it, can be bought for from $5 to : $10 per acre. The land is all right, as good as "lies out of doors ;" but alas for the surroundings. Neighbors are scarce, society is myth; and the poor, frail housewife, who . follows . her husband without a murmur, pines for friends. The children have to go two miles or farther to school ; and in the winter season they cannot attend much of the time in consequence of storms. Churches are "few and far between," and ' the people are generally a ' mixture of va-1 rious nations ; and the result of all is, that many an Eastern farmer who goes ; West is unhappy and wishes himself back on his old homestead. So if one . -goes - South, or anywhere, he s will ' not I find things just to his mindJ If , one thing is better than . on the old place, another is worse : and taking all things into consideration, but few farmers change their residence, who are able to make a living on the old place, that bet-ter themselves by removing to a distant State. One may obtain rich, lands at a low TiriPA wfioro tVi flra In w - 1 i ' "ylv fonriiat he grows ; and he may get into an unhealthy locality, and soon he may bury his wife and children, and . what then? a gloomy world for him.- A BOY WHO HAD SCHOOLING ENOUGH. 1 XE- amusing hit at the school education of the present day, in the following reflec-' tions which it pute in the mouth of an illiterate urchin, who is supposed to be getting ready after the holidays to go to school again: ; : - 1 ; ! -! "The cause of education be hanged !" he muttered, as he sat down on the curb-1 stone on Shelby street recently. He was ' a lad of thirteen. "I don't believe in a feller diffing in and learning all there is to learn, and not letting other folks have a chance. There's lots of other folks in this world besides me, and I ain't going to be a hog and try to learn all there is to learn." '. After a minute he went on: "Don't I know 'nuff now ? Three times two are ' six, four times five are twenty, and four and four "are 'eight. That's as correct as I could get 'em if I -went to school for a hundred years.' And. don't I know how to ' spell I C-a-t is cat' the world over, and I'll bet on it every time. ! H-e-n spells 'hen,' " and I know it as well as if I had weighed a ton. v' - .-- ' " " Jogerfry kinder wrestles me down,' but I don't go much on jogerfry. . What do I care whether an Island is entirely surrounded by water, or whether there ain't any water within ten miles of ' it ? -S'pose I'm going to buy and sell Islands for a living ? I don't care which is the highest mountain or the largest river, do I ? I'm going to keep a feed store, and when I'm rolling bales 6 hay round will I care about mountains and rivers ?' I've heard the boys go on about exports and imports and straits, and' 6eas, and capes, but what's them to me ?If aTfe! ler wants a bag of oats, is he jjoing to wait and ask me - when the Island of Madagascar was discovered ? " "The old folks are making ready for to push me into school, and I've got to make ready to keep out I can't take to school somehow. I could Bit here and study all day, but the minute I git into a school-house I'm nervous." t "Not Pkkpabbd.'! The "Drawer,"' in the November Harper, has this from the very down Eastern most section of our precious country : ' ' -It is customary with the students in our college to say "Not prepared," when called upon to recite a difficult and not well-memorized passage. On a hot summer afternoon, the class was sleepily stumbling through the introduction to Butler's Analogy. The reverend doctor was quite as familiar with the subject matter as with the number of chapters and sections, and had a way of his own in calling for a recitation, which sounded quite as much like a call to judgment as a call to recite. ' The lesson was going badly, and the doctor, nestling in his chair, called, out, "Jlr. T -, you may pass on to the 'Future Life "' Mr. T was too much of a wag to let the opportunity slip, and promptly responded, "Not prepared."

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