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Blackberries! ripe blackbetrMf t Will yon come and see? V / »£sOver all the woods and tone" : They axe runnfmr fee. W < 1 it BtaoktoePriei! rî btockberri«*t " Will you oome and eat T . ' • . Nature bids you to the feast, \ Spreads the wild, free treat. . --•sssSzfz _ . • . Bob White and Bob-B-Linknmfc , With their ladle* fair, % Robin Bed and Cardinal, Ar? already there. . Jenny Wren and every Mra ' • One would with to see, Faned for beauty, love, or I Join the company. MR* Sing and est, and eat and «ing|sf ,-tU- while tlic children shout; jVi _ And fond lovers 'mong the vtapp ^ * And7oii(l lovers 'mong the Wander in and out-- ' j . .Wander slowly, stooping low, , <5fl t*i» •»>«« fmit they miaa: nlAh S I wonder which is si • Berries, or a kiaa ? . t Which is sweetest, merry BoMa? ' Tell me which is best." And he warbled, " Blackberries I Berries for my neat." Which, is sweetest, happy lotWIb Happy ss yon «ig?» ?" laughing low, they answered tm, ., . "You had better try." '• .!#!•» ,»6 •.. - • < Children, whe In purple : . Dye your finger-tips, •purple are your garments dyed, Purple are your lips. •^Through *b* wood* and lanes and field* Each a welcome guest, Can yon answer what I ask?" " Blackberries are best!" «' Blackberries, of course, are beat ; - Who would kisses want ?" Said a sturdy, laughing lad, i Brown and confident. *' Blackberries, of course, are beat; What do yon say, Grace?" And the little lass replied, " That's, of course, the case Bat above them sang a bird In a mocking tongue, " Wait a little longer, dean, You are rather young. Birds who know & thing or two Well may tell you this-- Blackberries are very good, Flavored with a ki»*.n "* Weekly. f . T H T H A T h e lost by ft, S. The evening was warm and still, and «U the doors and windows in George fcfetreet were set open, and everybody who .fjjxmld escape from in-door occupation *%as out for a stroll. The people living Iter© were decent, hard-working men and women, earning enongh to keep their families in comfort, and taking an hon- ' Jpst pride in themselves and their dwell­ ings. Most of the windows could boast „4>f clean muslin curtains, and the door- ,$teps were as white as hard scouring foulci make them. There was one house, owever, whose door-step could ill bear tm comparison with its neighbors; and, as n%o its curtains, they were drab and oAingy, and had been up all the winter. .11 ««Miss Kennaway don't regard appear­ ances, that's certain," said one matron A© another, as they took their evening **waik together. "KI were her I should tsfee sick of the sight of those frightful "Nftrab curtains. And she with a smart - Jroung man coming often to the house!" " Poor thing !" sighed the other worn- . An, a good-natured soul, always ready to i find excises for those the work! was | hard upon--" poor thing! she can't have <"gii minute to call her own. What with | pear dressmaking and her mother's long Illness, she must be pretty nearly at her ^frit's end." "Well, if young Parr don't mind the jfmrtains and that disgraceful door-step •flibf here, I'm sure I don't," responded the 'first speaker, sharply. " And here he : |̂»me8, looking as natty as you please, walking as if the very ground wasn't t j?o®d enough for his feet" f« William Parr, the promised husband ®J)f Fanny Kennaway, was one of those *^haen who are said to be above their sta- /̂ fion, and ar ̂ sometimes so very much *l;fibove it that there is no keeping them .In it. William, however ̂was industrious ; ®nough to find favor with the merchant r #ho employed him. Out of the count- irpng-house he held his head high and • jlooked down upon his fellow-clerks, who omever ceased to wonder why such a lofty •ilellow should have courted an humble )«little dressmaker in George street. But - *Wary few men of taste would have been "Surprised at Parr's choice if they had 1 ̂ een Fanny Kennaway in her seat by the •' window that evening. After a long day's work she was resting ... £yes and hands for a few minutes, ana • 'hatching for William's coming. Hers • f*n*s §' delicate, clear-cut face, pale as a ̂ Ely, and serious almost to sadness--a face jjjhat seemed to have little in common *#ith the needles and pins and gay stuffs around her. And yet, in a general way, , Fanny worked cheerfully enough at her trade. It was only when nursing as well ,fSs dressmaking fell to her lot, and a heavy '. doctor's bill was added to ordinary ex- / Jjensee, that her little body felt itself weary of this great world. But there •irJ9roa no great weariness in the smile that greeted William as he entered the humble ^room. Like a wise woman, as she was, r Fanny always met her lover with a bright / look and a cheery voice. ? "Come, Fanny," he said, " won'tyou go for a walk this evening? fionr mother is better, so that you surely «»> be spared." yes, mother can spare me; Mrs. ' Marks is sitting with her. But there is & dress that must be finished to-night. William." 6 ' "I wonder why we never can enjoy ourselves as other people do," muttered Parr,crossly. "You are making & regu­ lar slave of yourself, Fanny." " Well, then, I'll go," she answered, • mter a little pause, " and I won't be five ' minutes getting ready." She tripped off, and soon returned, looking so neat in her walking garb that only an ill-humored man could have found • • • • fault in her. But as they walked away < . together down the street there was a cloud oa William's face; and presently he spoke out his grievance: "Why don't you get a stylish hat, Fanny, instead of wearing that everlast- ing bonnet? I can't think how it is; «• ;your things last so long, one never sees r . jrou in anything fresh and new. For my *ake, you ought to be a little smarter in your dress." Fannv did not tell him that every six­ pence she earned was spent on the com­ mon necessaries of life, and that all her gjf»vings had gone to pay that terrible •doctor's bill; but she looked up lovingly ¥,.(into the handsome, gloomy face. Will­ iam was her first love; she could not wish Mm changed, even when his maguificent notions caused her some inconvenience, iJThe ornament of a meek and quiet spirit ' 5s not always duly valued; and many wsople might have blamed Fanny for her .lameness. But she was one of those .fjliromen who would rather hear harsh Words than speak them. Instead of chiding, she patiently set herself to bring her oompanion into a better frame of mind, and she succeeded so well that William almost fosgot the old bonnet And yet, when lie had left her at her own door, and was going back to his lodgings, he began to think of it again. It was quite humiliating, he said to himself, for a man in Mi position to have been seen in the oompany of such a bonnet as that "How are you, Part?" cried a loud voice. "Splendid evening, isn't it? Come home with me and have supper, will you ?" The speaker was a dashing young fellow, son of an auctioneer who was reputed to be making a fortune. It was the first invitation that William had ever had from Tom X»erry. "Thanks," he answered, promptly; " I shall be happy to come." And then the two set off together, and William was by no means ill-pleased to walk with a well-dressed acquaintance, who nodded familiarly to one or two men in a sphere above him. ' The Derrys lived in a pleasant villa, with tsoach-house, stables and green­ house. Voices and laughter were heard in the garden as the* young men ap­ proached the gate; William caught sight of light dresses fluttering about on the lawa, and remembered certain rumors of the beauty of the Derry girls. After George street and Fanny's little work-room, it was no wonder, perhaps, that Gloucester Lodge seemed almost an earthly paradise. Julia Deny, the young­ est and prettiest of the sisters, was dis­ posed to be very gracious to William. She wore plenty of jewelry and her cos­ tume was made in the latest style. After supper she stayed and sang several fash­ ionable songs, with William standing be­ side her to turn over the music leaves. It was very pleasant, he thought, to see a girl with rings on her white hands, and without the tell-tale roughness on the left fore-finger. It was the old, old story. After that evening spent at Gloucester Lodge Will­ iam's visits to George street grew rarers rarer; and little Fanny drooped visibly. It is not so very hard for a woman to bear up under life's burdens while she has the strong prop of a man's love to lean upon. But if the prop breaks it is well for her if the burdens do not crush her altogether. Fanny, however, was not without a certain quiet fortitude. She felt that her prop was giving way and nerved herself to do without it " Fanny," said Mrs. Kennaway, one evening, as the young dress-maker sat sewing in her windowseat, " you are not looking well, my child; I wish William would come and take you out. He hasn't been here very often lately, has be ?" "No, mother, not very often." " I think you are working too hard," continued the poor woman, sighing. " I get well very slowly, Fanny, and the beef- tea and port wine cost a great deal. I've made up my mind, child, to write to my brother at last." " But, mother, you'll be dreadfully dis­ tressed if he doesn't answer. And you have often said that he would never for- give you for marrying my poor father." " I've been a widow for nearly five years, Fanny. Surely Steven can bury the old grievances m my husband's grave!" 4' You know best, mother. But father always spoke of him as a hard man." " Well, at any rate, I shall make an at­ tempt to soften him. Don't try to talk me out of it, Fanny. I believe it is the right thing to do." Fanny held her peaoe, but she had lit­ tle hope that her uncle Fenwick would reply to his sister's letter. She knew that he was a rich city merchant, several years older than her mother, but she had never seen him, and had founded her opinion of his character solely oa her father's dislike to him. The late Mr. Kennaway had been one of those men who have a natural tunf for borrowing money, and are generally severe on the friends who refuse to lend. Perhaps Mrs, Kennaway had taken some pains to hide the father's faults from the child's eyes, for Fanny had never discovered them. "Now, Fanny," said honest Mrs. Marks, bouncing into the little room, "to-morrow's Saturday, and you are going to have a whole holiday. Every­ thing's planned, so you may leave off shaking your head. Mary Baker has promised to come and sit with your mother. My man and I have arranged to take you right off to Durant farm, where my sister lives." Mr. Marks and her husband were the Kennaways' next-door neighbors. They were a childless couple,f and instead of wasting their affections on dogs and par­ rots they looked out for young people who needed love and sympathy. Fanny had no idea they knew all about her sor­ row. She did not realize hew easy it is for shrewd eyes to read the signs of a sick heart Early the next morning a hired chaise rattled out of George street, containing Fanny and her two friends. Of course it could not be quite a perfect holiday without William ; but the girl enjoyed fresh air and rest, and was grateful for kindness. It was a long drive, and when they reached the farm-house Mrs. Marks declared that Fanny had picked up wonderfully. A day or two in the country, she said, would put a little color into those pale cheeks, and brighten the eyes that were dull with watching and working. Ah, poor Fanny ! Durant farm stands upon the out­ skirts of a wood, which has always been a favorite haunt with picnic parties. The fates had decreed that the Derrys should give a picnic that day; it was early in September, and townsfolk want­ ed to make the most of the waning sum­ mer. Miss Julia Derry wore an entire­ ly new costume, bought for the occa­ sion, and a charming rustic hat adorned with poppies and wheat ears. It was very agreeable to be admired, even by a mere merchant's clerk, and she lavished her sweetest smiles on William Parr. Arm-in arm the pair strolled away from the rest of the party. He talked nonsense and she laughed and listened, and led him on, without a thought be­ yond the hour's amusement. She was wiser in this world's ways than foolish William, whose vanity had been tickled until he really believed that he had made a conquest. He was bending down to his companion, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, when a turn in the path suddenly brought them face to face with Mrs. Marks and Fanny Kenaway. Even then things might have turned Iout well, if William had only been true to himself. But there was Fanny in her . »y gown, and the bonnet had gone completely out of fashion; and there was the superb Julia hanging on Parr's arm and quizzing his betrothed with haughty eyes. The wont part of the young man's nature came uppermost at that moment He gave one quick glance at Fanny, and then swept on, without bestowing even a bow of recog­ nition on the little dressmaker. " Well! " said Mrs. Marks, drawing a long breath, " I only wonder that the earth dont open and swallow him up I" XL Fanny took her lover's desertion in a verv quiet way. She knew that the end had come, ana did not try to get any oomforf mil; rtf n hope. W(i»n fliA fire has gone out she is a wise woman who sets herself to take away the ashes and clean oui the grate, even when she knows her hearthstone will be cold for many a year afterward. Our little dressmaker went on sewing and snip­ ping as usual, saying never a word about her trouble. Meanwhile the household burdens were lightened. Mr. Fenwick wrote a kind reply to his sister's letter, and in­ closed a sum large enough to supply her with all she required. " Yjp can get yourself a new gown now, Fanny," said her mother, cheer­ fully. " It has made my heart ache to see you wearing that old gray thing. I like my little girl to be well dressed." Brave Fanny! it a siek heart whis­ pered that it didn't matter what she wore nowadays, she never heeded the voice; she chose the taaterial with as much care as if it had been the stuff for her wedding dress, and set about making it up in her best style. When it was finished Mrs. Marks came in and resolutely cleared away the signs of work, and then sent Fanny up-stairs to put on the new gown and go ont walk­ ing in it It was getting late in the afternoon when Fanny returned from her stroll. It seemed to her, as she entered the lit­ tle parlor, that it was full of people; her mother sat by the window, looking nerv­ ous and tearful, yet happy withal; and by her side was an elderiy gentleman, talking earnestly. A little apart from these two was a young man, sitting at the table and turning over the pages of a little vol­ ume of poems which had been a gift from William Parr to his affianced wife. Both gentlemen rose quickly as Fanny came in, and the elder introduced him­ self at once. " I am your uncle, Steven Fenwick, Fanny," he said, taking her hands. " Give me a kiss, my dear. You are lifcft the daughter I have lost This is my son, your cousin Walter." The young man came forward and asked if Fanny were willing to make friends with an unknown relative. His manner was natural, his voice very gen­ tle, and Fanny felt at once that lie treat ed her with aa much deference as if she had been a peeress instead of a poor lit­ tle dressmaker. What he thought of her she did not learn till long after­ ward ; but certain it is that the imige of a sweet, pale girl, in a brown dress, haunted Walter Fenwick's for many a day. " Your uncle wants us to go and live with him, Fanny," said Mrs. Kennaway, tremulously. " He is a widower, and has only a housekeeper to take care of hi™, Shall we go t" "Will you come and be my child, Fanny ?" asked Mr. Fenwick. She turned and looked steadfastly at him for a moment, with her eyes full of tears. And then, slowly and gratefully, she an­ swered "Yes." Only a fortnight after Mr. Fenwick's visit, the inhabitants of George street ran to their doors to catch a Inst glimpse of the Kennaways. The two women came very quietly out of the little house and entered the fly that waited for them and their luggage. Mrs. Marks waved a tearful farewell; her husband stood on the pavement, smiling broadly to hide his real feelings, and then the vehicle rattled away, and the folks went in-doors again, saying that they supposed the rich uncle was goinjr to make a lady of little Fanny; And how was it, meanwhile, with William Parr? His intimacy with those gay friends, the Derrys, had come to an end with the summer. Julia got tired of his attentions, and snubbed him; her elders said to each other that young Parr's frequent visits were becoming quite a nuisance; even Tom at last gave him the cold shoulder. They were a heartless set, he said to himself, feeling abominably ill-used. And then it sud­ denly occurred to him that he was only getting the very same measure that he had meted to another. " It serves me right for treating Fan­ ny badly," he mused. "She was worth a hundred Julias. And she is such a good, forgiving little thing that I almost think she'd made it up with me if I went back to her again." It was a chilly evening in late autumn when William Parr once more took his way to George street. A host of old rec­ ollections came crowding round him as he drew near Fanny's home; he began to wonder how he could have stayed away from her so long, and to be eager for the first glimpse of her sweet face. He knew just how she would look; his fancy painted the glow and brightness that would welcome him. There was a light in her parlor--a warm, cheery beam, that told him he would AM her sitting as usual at her sewing. "I won't make a dozen wretched ex­ cuses," thought the young man. "I'll just ask her to forgive me, and tell her that I could not live without her." He knocked at the door, and stood waiting with a throbbing heart for Fan­ ny to open it A few seconds passed away, then he heard the inside latch lift­ ed, and stood face to face with a tall, hard-featured woman in a widow's cap. "Is Miss Kennaway within?" he fal­ tered. " She doesn't live here," responded the woman, shortly. " Not live here r said William. "Then where is she ? Can you give me any in­ formation ?" " I don't know anything about her. I've heard that some people named Ken­ naway lived here before I but that's all I can tell you.," William turned away from the door like one half stunned. It was all so dif­ ferent from the pleasant and pathetic scene he had been picturing that he oould hardly believe in this stern reality. And then, as he still stood dreaming on the pavement, he bethought him of Mrs. Marks. She had been the Kennaways familiar Mend, and would surely know something about their change of resi­ dence. Alas ! Mrs. Marks' house was quiet and dark. The shutters were closed; not a gleam of light oould be seen with­ in, and William's knock remained unan­ swered. " That house is empty," said a girl's voice at his elbow, and, looking around, he saw a decently-clad lassie with a par- oel under her arm. " The Marks are gone away to live somewhere in the coun­ try," she added. " Can you tell me what has beoome of Mrs. Kennaway and her daughter?" William asked, eagerly. " They're gone to London. Some rich gentleman found out they were his near relations, and he has taken them to live with him." Without another word William walked away, hardly knowing what direction he was taking. Until that moment he had never realized how strong was the tie that had bound him to little Fanny. He had neglected her--trifled with himself and his best feelings--and well-nigh broken her heart; but had he really never ceased to love her ? She was gone; she had quietly vanished out of his way, and made no sign. * * * * * * * Three years passed away. William Parr had stepped into the place left va­ cant by the death of a senior clerk, his salary had been raised, and he had moved into better quarters. Perhaps, if he had sought to renew his intimacy with the Derrys, he might not have been re­ pulsed, but he was now a sadder and wiser man. The sense of loss had never entirely left him, nor had he as yet found anyone who could be what Fanny had been. No tidings of her had ever come to her old lover; in the days of their in­ tercourse she had been silent about her Uncle Fenwick, and William had not even heard his name. One day it happened that William Pan- was dispatched to London to transact some business for his employer. It was winter, but the weather was clear and sunshiny, and when he arrived at the great metropolitan station it wanted an hour to noon. Among the numbers wait­ ing on the platform one figure attracted William's eye at once; it was that of a lady, richly dressed in velvet and sable, who was evidently looking out eagerly for some one in the train. As she caught a glimpse of the face she was watching for, her own brightened and flushed in a way that William well remembered. Just so nad she greeted him when he had been wont to pay his evening visits to the little house in George street a long time ago, A quiet-looking gentleman stepped out of a first-class carriage, and was about to draw her hand through his arm. But William, yielding to a powerful impulse, approached and spoke. " Fanny--Miss Kennaway," he said, nervously. She gave a very slight start For an instant her color deepened; and then she frankly extended her hand. " Not Miss Kennaway now," she an­ swered, smiling. "This is my husband, Mr. Fenwick--Mr. Parr." William scarcely knew how he re­ turned the gentleman's salutation. A moment more and Walter Fenwick and his wife had passed on, leaving William to collect his scattered senses. Both had seen plainly that he was far too confused to enter into conversation. " Poor fellow !" said Walter, looking down tenderly into his wife's face. "I do not wonder that he was agitated by this sudden meeting with his lost love. He is a great loser and I am a great ghiner, Fanny."--Cos8ell's Magazine, and forth and all over his head, but can find no resting place for the sole of his foot Suddenly as the lightning's flash his hand is describing a circle in the air, and the fly is gracefully making a straight line to further conquests in the other aisle.-- Yonkert Gazette* THE HORN OF PLENTY. It I* Scattering Its Golden Content* Upon the Hutfbandmen of the West. The Wheat Yield of the Mississippi Valley.--The Chicago Tribune makes an estimate of the wheat crop of thin year in four of the Mississippi valley States, which compares superbly with the crop reports of other years, as fol­ lows : 1878, - Btuheln, Minnesota. 27,000,000 Iowa 29,000,000 Wisconsin..........25,000,000 12,000,000 1870. ButheU. 16,000,000 18,000,000 16,000,000 12,000,000 1877 Bushels. 35,000,000 37,000,000 25,000,000 20,000,000 Depredations Upon the Timber For a great many years the Govern­ ment has been systematically robbed by timber thieves in Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Louisiana. Wherever the Government has owned lands cov­ ered with timber of any value the depre­ dations have been continuous and ex­ tensive. The thieves go boldly upon Government lands in the proper season and cut as many trees as they can, which they float down the streams and sell to the lumber dealers, who are glad to buy at a minimum price, and ask no ques­ tions. In this way the Government lands are rendered valueless. Timber dealers won't buy them because they are as a rule worthless for agricultural purposes. The Government has been endeavoring for many years to put a stop to this robbery, but has not oeen suc­ cessful. In many instances the officers of the local land offices have stood in with the thieves, and in almost every in­ stance where measures of any severity have been adopted the cases have been compromised. Since 1854 the Govern­ ment lias received on this account only $150,000, and to get this amount over 850,000 has been expended, while the total loss to the Government foots up million upon million. Upon assuming duties of Secretary ol the Interior, Mr. Schurz had his attention called to this state of affairs, which he at once set about to remedy. He discarded all the methods formerly in use for the correction of the abuse, and proceeded upon a plan of his own. The result is that he nas practi- caUv put an end to timber depredations, and has in his hands already, through le­ gal seizure, felled timber the value of which amounts to three or four times as much as all that the Government has heretofore recovered in this account. His course has been pursued quietly, and the thieves have had no inkling of his purposes until they found themselves in the meshes of the law. He is dailv besieged by letters appealing for mercy or begging for compromise, but he turns to all such petitions a deaf ear. He says he would see the timber burned before he wouid compromise, and he will not part with a foot of it except at the regu­ lar market price.-- Washington Cor. Chicago Inter-Ocean. Poetry of Motion. !The poetry of motion may be seen in two ways at one and the same time. Just watoh a bald-headed man in church. To look at him you would think his whole being was absorbed in wrestling with those great problems of theologv that the preacher is rolling in upon him like a flood, but it is not so; look closely, and you will see the set teeth, the cocked eye, and vengeance standing out upon ms brow. He knows that a fly has been shinning for the last five minutes back Total....,.......98,000,000 61,000,000 117,000,000 This indicates first, that these four States have 25,000,000 bushels more of wheat to sell than after the unprece­ dented yield of 1875, and 50,000,000 bushels more than last year--not less than 14,000,000barrels of flour; second, that Minnesota, which was the seven­ teenth wheat-growing State in I860, has grown to the second in 1877, and next year will stand at the head; third, that, adding the unusual yield of Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois to this sur­ plus, making allowance for the small crop in California, this country is able to export at least $75,000,000 worth of flour more than last year. These esti­ mates are based on the actual returns from some States and careful observa­ tions by cautious and trustworthy men in others. This bonus of seventy-five millions of money will go a good ways towards reviving business during the coming fall, at least on trunk railroads and among the farmers. 2he Central Wheat Belt.--The Cin­ cinnati Commercial gives some figures of the wheat production in Ohio, In­ diana and Kentucky: The acreage sown was large, the yield heavy, and the time for harvesting propitious. Enough of the new crop has already appeared in the market to make known its quality with certainty. No one locality seems to have been specially favored. The amounts received from all directions are of a superior grade, and are accompanied by the same reports of an enormous yield. The summer of 1874 saw a good crop harvested through Central and Southern Ohio, but the yield through the country generally was hardly more than an average one. The crop just gathered is a gigantic one in all the wheat-growing regions, the memories of the oldest growers and buyers being taken to recall a better one, either as to quantity or quality. Tributary to this market are some heavy wheat- producing areas. Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky abound with wheat fields. The usual yield in these States is about as follows: ^ Bushel®, Ohio, average yield 17,600,000 Indiana, average yield 16,000,000 Kentucky, average yield.. 8,000,000 Good judges estimate this season's crop as below: . Bushels. Ohio 25,000,000 Indiana ...U... .22,000,000 Kentucky 13,000,000 woiiAirs txrrmL MA*Y ADreajDE TOUfc letter's late by one day. truth U, Jenny de«r, 1 Qwyson oame on mmdsr-- •eons he's always here. "SLOTtrndWKenzle, three bleaaed bxmm: . waa In a frensy-- la ie brought some lovely lowen^j ™ news and everything «& Jut I find there tartMyL & week, Ned's to sing • the Moaart Clob aUrvinJfK n manage, dear, to go, he fates sad weather «ar dont want ms to know! fan, 1ct6TI in A nuiauiM f brought the ring last k- wifiiiWi nRf fiucaa'K |t gave me auch a fright! icrisd and wouldn't wear ft: ! sow, underneath the ran, I ^girla contrive to bear It--, g I narrowing down to one F K Poor George, the foolish fellow. Began to storm and fling. • And turned quite green ai I hate that eort of thing. How, Ned is always quiet; • fthink his oool, gray eye Would still an Irish riot, . Or make a regiment fly. But what's so very funny About him--Ned, 1 mean--. He hasn't any money; , I heard from Clarence Qnat Just how he'a situated-- JCeeps books for Webb k Ware. Ah, well--those things are fated I George owns a million, square, dear, Fate trims the cornes, Bough-hew them as we may I We can't go clad like mourners, Or weep the livelong day. But, oh, don't breathe it, jenny I I'd marry Ned, you sec, Without one single penny. If only he loved me I Ah, well-- well--well--that's foQy. But sometimes, Jen, I've H<«n3>t He, too, seemed melancholy; Quick glances that I've caught, Looked full of speechless nntlnrn There goes a silly tear To blot the page--with madneM ©ood-by, pet, George is here. We dine at Ella Johnson's P. 8.--I must decide; He won't stand too much nonsense The crepe comes full yard wide Don't get the buff, it fades so; Have train and split-up sack, For organdies are made so. My heart aches. Love to Jack. --Scribim jot September. '¥ Total for these three States 60,000,900 The above estimate is a moderate one. There are those, with good data from which to reckon, who make the total yield from the three States 10,000,000 bushels more. Taking the above estimate as the true one, and there are 25,000,000 bush els of wheat in the States named over and above what is needed for home con­ sumption. Of course farmers will also realize from what is consumed in the towns and by the non-wlieat-growing class, a by-no-means small amount. The acreage sown and the yield in other States is quite as large as in the three named. Throughout the entire North and West an immense wheat crop of good quality has been harvested. Corn, though it will be a month yet before the crop is harvested, is far enough along and sufficiently promising to make a good yield almost certain. Early in the summer the crop was back­ ward, and some alarm felt, but the later rain and favorable weather have brought the staple crop of the central States up to a condition of, if anything, more than usual promise. From, 3,000,000 to 50,00,000 bushels of corn, grown between the Alleglienies and the Mississippi, are sold annually in foreign countries. This forms, however, but a small fraction of the entire yield, the crop going largely into beef and pork, and to supply the Southern States. The yield in Ohio av­ erages about 100,000,000 bushels a year, and in Indiana not far from the same amount. The crop is a staple and a pretty sure one, and this year likely to be an unusually good one. It is an im­ portant item among the farmer's re­ sources, and may be counted with the wheat crop as among the things bidding fair to give a much-needed impulse to the business of the country. Brief Crop Notes.--Nearly all of the Minnesota wheat tests sixty pounds per bushel.... Crops of every description in the South are the most promising of any since the war. The cotton crop will be the largest ever raised Dakota Terri­ tory will export over 3,000,000 bushels of wheat this year... .The Connecticut valley tobacco crop is looking very fair, and is expected to yield an average crop of fine Havana cigars The recent rains have discouraged the Southern Kansas farmers. Their oorn coop will be so large they expect great difficulty in ob­ taining sufficient lumber to build cribs. The Winnipeg Free Press publish­ es crop reports from all over Manitoba, upon which it bases its belief that the province is finally past the necessity of looking to importation for any portion of its supply of cereals.... J. M. Metcalf, State Statistician for Minnesota, esti­ mates the wheat crop of the State at about 81,000,000 bushels, of Tfhioh 23,- 000,000 bushels will be for export. Galignani's Messenger savs that Mme. Adelina Patti has paid M. Eseudier, manager of the Italian theater in Paris, 100,000 francs as a forfeit for the breach of engagement. She has also telegraphed to M. Strakoscli of New Yo\kto sav that tning to do witii u she accepted his proposals for the United tor calls another States--namely, 10,000 francs for each * * --" - performance and a benefit; fifty-one per- formances guaranteed at more thati a half million francs. THE foreman of a jury in Texas, which lately granted a divorce to a woman, married her the same day. PITH AND POIHT. WHEN do we read of decaying nature? --When autumn turns the leaves. AN artificial florist lately described himself as "head gardener to the ladies." WHEN can you be said to swallow glass-ware?--When you buy a tumbler and goblet. THE young man who on Wednesday morning said it was nip and tuck, went and tuck a nip. IT was Mr. Emerson, we believe, who made the remark that " old age is not disgraceful, but it is immensely disad­ vantageous." AN old negro cook says: "Sass is powerful good in everything but chil­ dren. Dey needs some oder kind of dressin'." THE secret of running a boarding- house profitably is to find out just what your boarders don't want,.and then feed em lots of it. A 'WITNESS on the stand, in reply to a question as to what the character of Mr. was for truth and veracity s said, " Well, I should say that he truth very carelessly." IT is very, very sad when an absent- minded young man is asked at a church festival what he'll have, and answers: " Beer." But it's just as bad when he tries to suck up his ice-cream with a straw, " No, GEOBGE," she said, in response to his question, "it is not true that a string of new belt buckles in a shop window would make any woman lose a train; but," she added, musingly, "sometimes she may have to ran a lit­ tle." THE knocker is plied at Dr. A 's house with much vigor at 1 a. m. The doctor opens the window. "Who's there?" "It's me. Mr. B is very sick. Come quick." " What's wrong with him?" "The same disease that carried off his wife and children last week." The doctor, being the family physician, said, "Give him the sam® treatment, and, if there is any change, come again." HAWK-ETTEMB, The Hon is the king of beasts, but the cow is the boss. Those dreadful Russian outrages are what inrages the Turks. A Russian knoutrsge is enough to make any mad. When a man is working for his board, and the employer cuts his salary down 50 per cent., then times are indeed what you might call hard, and a man is justi fled in resorting to extreme measures. Harper's Bazar says that you may eat corn off the cob, but you must hold it with only one hand. If the cob gets a little the better of vou, we suppose you may hold one fend of the cob down with your foot. A great many Americans are very in­ dignant because a tailor in London has a very prominent sign in front of his store, "No orders taken from Ameri­ cans, unless accompanied with the cash." Don't get angry at him; his head is level. Bless your indignant souls, it would be money in the pockets of lots of our American tailors, right here at home, if they would hang out the same sign. The other night, a happy young sere- nader backed up under the window and sang, "When night comes creeping down the hills." But just then one of those slim, green worms that haunt the maple trees came creeping down his back, and the pale starlight was streaked with a howl as long as the wind ; and, when daylight came, a party of scientific gentlemen were looking in silent awe at the ruined and dismantled shrubbery where the meteor lit, and eagerly search­ ing for fragments of it Every editorial convention that has been held anywhere at any time during the past twenty-live years nas discussed something called on the programs "editorial ethics." We do not know what it is, never having seen it used to any recognizable extent by the press, but we have an idea that it has some­ thing to do with matters when one edi­ tor calls another "a low-bred, light- fingered, perjured son of perdition wal­ lowing in the fetid filth of a corrupt and decaying political ring;" and the other fellow says back that his contemporary is " a white-livered, black-hearted thief and liar, whose cowardly heart ought to be torn out of his carcass and fed to the ravening crows."