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J. VAN SMKE, KUItor A Publisher. T ILLINOIS HcHENRY. in • i >- yj AV -fTlilN. OH, the lovely Autumn daya. When the earth is all ablaze, With a thousand kindling di H* di lutiful and rare. Life itself were not bo fair. Spring is tardy, changeful, Summer comes with'duift am Waiting on her flying feet; But the peaceful Autumn stays, . Idlest and bleswng, all her 'Jays. •IH tjhe»iiiis-whto mellow vifell * Equity, iasciouB fruits that swell ""'iJ'roBi tie laggnnl bn&B'o'f Spring f^11 Ao4 tfu^fcJtuirner'R blossoming. . ah,t6# need her wholesome touch, ripen offmiif; , - ; • ik)j, with tempered breath, sMedoli **A,lllitfcbJf'Pvasr'f-*-I fi'h\ a»dseb««oIs Nature vo her own wise rule*: I'hca, her labor done, she pom Imt her bountiful, rich atorea-- - OB «?««' J»ill, A , iij^^i^H,tt^cUckK<mp£ ati|i Flames of sacrificial thanks Oyer ajl her viney banks. • * Y f - k • • : * i " * * > • • • ? '• opring-iH Lardy, climigeful, fleet; • 1£t with du*£ aua heat; But the peaceful Autumn stays, "pleasing, all her days. Hatton, in Christian (Tnion. • •» Bleat, and I /f»ll<5 1' TEAR f}> 1M IT raining, little flower?. Be grind of rain: To,W8^rul4withprthee; v Tfc J*?H>iSb<kre"frefplWaefc, 'tistrue,' But ,iii«t behind them shines the blue. •4<Mwti weary, tractor heart? Be glad of pain; • In Borrow sweetest things will grow, As flowers in rain. God TOttcheS. and thou wilt have sun UT Wtbeir perfect work hr.ve done. •* -- for*, Af. F. Butte, in Folded Hand*. THAT BLESSED RAIN. " OH, yes," said the doctor, .-rising from Ate. bedside of; his patient, " we are'jplendijh|j-~we aire certainly mend­ ing/ Ail that your ipother needs now, Mali .Farley, & a nourishing diet-- plenty of beaf-tea and old port--and we shall keep her with us many a long year yet." He was a large, benign man, and he looked down cheerfully on Bertha Fa»v ley as he spok«Crubbing hishancU--his plump, white hands--and anticipated u delightful answvr.v <• k There was none. The girl's lips moved; but there was no articulate re­ sponse, and a look passed over her face that seemed one of actual agony. Certainly her cheek grew very pale. The dpctor staged at Tier in amaze­ ment. < >vBee£-te*, sir!" she faltered. W l^es; you Ipiow how to make fcseS-. tea, I suppose ?" v " Yes, sir." 44 A bit of nice beefsteak or a chop fojp J^er dinner, and a very light meal at night.. Avoid heavy suppers." bertha bowed, and the doctor took up his hat and went away. ' • ** A very singular girl," he said 16 hiinself, as he went down the steps. "She has hung over her mother every nrfhute for the last three weeks, and nOW I assure her she will get well--a thing that seemed impossible three days ago--she don't even smile. I hate these undemonstrative people!" exclaimed tHfc doctor, always impatient of any- tffln^ ihcomprehensible. Such eccentricities were almost the onto; thing that troubled him. And Bertha Farley? She stood still, listtnitig to his retreating footsteps. Shftstobdas pale and still as a marble stuJaie, af ar-away strained look in her eijjes. Vbjat gJfeatly detracted from her beauty--fp^- be&utyy she certainly had had, 'at least. There was the faint dint ofa di.itple in the white cheek; the features were finely chiseled; the rip­ ply ,o£dftfk hairtfine as silk; but the ccymt<|pai)ce was^, pale to pallowness n%w, and 'the- expression one of jnonot- orrotis ^aelanfchbiy. -denttia luttted a&idfe to a window, at last, and slipped he*;: hand into the Socket of her dress. She drew forth a ainty pearl portemo'nnaie and mj.- clasjAM, lit .w|s^pty. <9 O ' < 44 Nourishing diet--her life depends, orf#now.1 Ami I have no m6ney!" No wonder the doctor did not sus- pdCt* Tlie glrl-WOTB ft daffty"Wrapper of rose-colored cashmere. The room was furnished with and green vel- v^ffWIflfiWirigitgS' thof lied were w:, a^d 'the invalid was fcrif lacei . TOotai was beautiful, and^Ke sick woman had been most comfortably couched and attended. She had suffered much, and Bertha had kept well the secret that their account at the bank was overdrawn, and they were utterly jpenniless. But now she \vi£s \ <o "Eetf'be'Ball il hex em^genot tMnt «e|tfled if sfcie must crjr aloud. rred"*>n her pillow. 44 Bertha, dear, are you there?" •'Yes, mother." Bertha came to the bed and put her young i^oe dovy'A bea^de ' the . wrinkled onemi ttepillow. . ^ ** x he doctor says I am ge'tUng bet­ ter." 44 Yes, dearest mother." 44 You must notf tir«Ty6u#§Wf 0Ht*%) now. Stretch yo&rfeelf here on the bed, poor c^ld,,ami have a nap. Mab will w»"t o n m e . ' -'Tirere wa^ a moment's silence. 41 Let her make me some toaat and a cup of nice tea with cream in it. Do you know. ,dear." with a fatal smile* •41 think I am'actually hui>gryf"» Still Bertha did not speak. tf t Are you asleep, dear Berth*?"- f*-4^jorima^ima--I was thinking. Mab has gone away," she added. "I did not iniuK. we needed her--only us two --and I. will get your lunch." 44 Mab gone? Why, Bertha, there is so much w<WfeT*tlo --dot Stop, Child don't look Jo ii£r¥»ts >nd! harassed. Lie d!own*ana rest.** I----n I *41 must go on an errand, mamma, rji ao"®t>e gojie Over tell minntes.*' Ye^, nervous' and harassed the girl looked. She tied a vail tightly over her fapft^nd caught up her shawl. In .an instautr she was in the street. 44 Oh, she said she was hungry?' she sobbed, the tears running down her cheeks as she threaded several short streets. At last sho was in the opefl thorough­ fare. and looked about her. Right opposite was a window full of watches and jewelry, and above hung three gilt balls. 44 That must be the place*" murmur­ ed Bertha. ' <r * I. With an aching heari, AC flr^v a ring from her finger. w " It was a beautiful ring--a circlet of very large and pure rubies. They flashed like sparks of fire in the sun­ light a* the girl drewit fmm her hamd, Tuen she plunged aoroi^ tl#e ttreet and with desperate naste trnclosed the pawn- ft doof« f' * ^ There was M:,- Wa)A-whisk erred man, smelling of garlic, behind the counter. He snatched eagerly at the ring as Bertha offered it for hjs inspec­ tion. \/' . ii' No words could describe the pain with which sho saw it seized by his fat hands- ' 44 This ring? I will lend yon seven dollars on it, my dear." 44 Seven dollars? And when I bring you back the money I Can have the ring back," added Bertha, earnestly. •40h, yes, myrdear; any time within !tw®lvemontfes,M He handed her the money In silver. Her thin fingers closed over it; but she had removed the vail, and stood look­ ing anxiously at the man. "Yon will be sure and hot sell the ting, sir. I will certainly redeem it before the twelve months are out. My name is Bertha Farley," she added* 441 live at No. 870 A h street." The old pawnbroker smiled at the unsophisticated air. His customers were not usu al ly 8<J willingly frank and communicative. "I will write it down, my dear, and give you a ticket. You. can have the ring when you bring back the money," he added, civilly. Bertha came out, trying to think only; of the dear money in ner hand. It would buy her dear sick mother nour­ ishing food. But when she reached the store she found she was still crying softly for her ring. Again she drew down heV vail. She bought a steak, nice fresh butter, and a French loaf. She could have hugged the bundles with gladness and gratitude as she re­ ceived them. " Darling mother, your precious life is safe!" she murmured. Sho i Ail uOuiC, coaxcd the ;fire to burn with a couple oi sticks, broiled the steak, made some tea, and was at the bedside of the invalid in less than half an hour from the time she left with an appetizing repast upon a tray. •4Oh, how nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Far­ ley. 44Help me sit up, dear. Did you cook the steak, yourself? I don't re­ member that Mab ever prepared any­ thing so nicely. It is delicious!" And weakly, yet with evidently en­ joyment, she ate and drank all that was brought her. Her daughter hung over her with de­ light. 4 Bertha, dear, I think you ought not to have discharged Mab. There are fires to make--you never made a fire in your life--and the steps to wash--" 'Dearest mother, I had as soon make a fire as not; and as for die steps, never mind. Lie down and sleep, and then you will get strong." Aiui Bertha, who for three weeks had dr&gged through the unaccustomed task of making fires, cooking, washing dishes, sweeping and nursing an inva­ lid day and night, arranged the bed­ clothes, .lifted the tray and ran down­ stairs with a light step. The next day. she bought more beef, and another French loaf; and then she must needs employ a woman to wash a great basket of clothes which had ac­ cumulated during her mother's sick­ ness. Washing and ironing were arts un­ known to Bertha, even if she had the strength. , But th#mmble was that her money began to dwindle. It will not hold out muoh longer," said Bertha, at last. 44 What can I do? I must earn some- I must earn enough to live and get me back my ring." Still keeping her mother in ignor­ ance of their straitened circumstances, the girl daily stole forth during the aft­ ernoon nap of her invalid and went from shop to shop offering her services. But business was dull; there was m6rehelp than occupation; and though i^any, pleased by her appearance, promised to gi ve "I n<ffF" a" chance when times improved, she effected no engage­ ment. r Weeks "of deiBperate effort and #eary waiting went by. The day came when poor Mrs, Farley, nursed in luxury,, and unequal to the emergency, was re­ quired to know that actual poverty had overtaken her. At the most meager rates, Bertha ob­ tained a little plain sewing--enough to buy their daily bread. Beyond this she could accomplish nothing; and when tit last the twelve months we|e up she could not pay a dime. And then the girl sfied the bitterest tears"bf her life. A pawnbroker's establishment some­ times holds rare curiosities, and, the rain still falling heavily, Henry obeyed a sudden impulse, and stepped within. The owner was fat, black-whiskered and snielled of garlic. He was ar­ ranging some rings on a velvet cushion. •4Are those rings to be sold?" asked Henry, carelessly. 44 On, surely, my friends" Suddenly the cool, blonde face flushed. "That circlet of rubies--will yo* let me see it?" '• The man permitted. 441 once owned this ring. Will you tell me who brought it here?" 44 It is not stolen, eh?'" cried the pawnbroker, in alarm 44 Oh, no. I shall not claim or take it nnleas I pay for it. But I should like to know who "brought it here." Henry was trembling, though he fnade an effort to conceal it. 44 It is a very nice ring." The man hesitated. "A young lady brought it. She pawned it with me, but the time has run oat. I put it in the window for sale." It is a very nice one, an you say. The young laay did not care for ill* ring, I presume?" 44 Perhaps she did, though. She had been crying, I remember. She was in trouble, I thought. I often see people in trouble, sir." 44 Do you knew her name?" 4 4 Yes. Miss Bertha Fartey, No. 870 A h street." 44 What is the price Of this ring?" " You may have it tor fifty dollars. It is worth twice the money, sir." Henry did not speak again. He paid for the ring and left the establish­ ment. Half an hour later, Bertha, sad, pale and weary, opened the door to a hand­ some and prosperous young gentleman --very unlike any visitor who-had en­ tered her door of late. 44 Philip!" J • " 44 Bertha! Can this be you?" Before the girl's white, tired, melan­ choly countenance, all his resentment faded into thin air. Before she could speak he had drawn her into his arms and kissed her dear, thin cheek. 4 4 We have been very • unfortunate, Philip." Isee. Why did yon not answer my letters from California?" 441 never received them. I have had no word or aews of you lor over a year." 44 Nor I of you. And I had concluded that you had repented of your engage­ ment." 44 Repented? I? Oh, Phillip, it seemea8ohard when you seemed to go, too! Papa died, and then the prop­ erty went piece by piece--there was no one to manage rightly. I did not care that we were no longer rich, but to suffer 44 Bertha, did you need to pawn my ringP" "Philip, my mother was almost starving. She was sick and weak, and the doctor said she must have nourish­ ing food. I had none for her. I wept over my dear ring before I let it go; but there was no other way; it was ail I had that was valuable. I did mvh violence to my feelings to put it to such a use; but 1 was desperate. I prom­ ised myself to redeem it soon, out I have had no money since." 44 Don't--don't, my darling, look so broken-hearted! Poor bird! now cruel the world has been to you! Bertha, see--here is your ring." 44 Oh, Philip! how " 44 This blessed rain drove me into the shop where it was. From what the pawnbroker said, I gathered hope that you were not, as I had believed, in­ different and fickle. I had such an an­ gry, miserable heart, child, when 1 found it. To think that you should barter away the ring which had sym­ bolized my faith in you! It looked bad --did it not, Bertha ?" 44 Yes." 44 But he said you had been crying. This turned my thoughts. 1 never saw you cry, brave, happy little thing that you used to be! 1 wondered what was wrong. Then the shocking thought that you might be in need came to me, and driving here, I saw the great rich house, Bertha, so poor, suffering in this house." 44 But we cannot eat the house/1 said poor, little Bertha. 44 Child, it would easily sell, in these hard times, even." 44 Well,*'said nineteen-year-oM Ber­ tha, 44 how could I sell a nouser And mamma knows less about such things than I do." 44 Poor little thing! You could have let it for enough to live on in comfort all your lifer' laughed Philip, with tears in his eyes, as he looked down in the pretty, puzzled face! 44 Fortunate­ ly you did not. We will keep it now for our home. And the larder shall never be empty again, Bertha." That blessed rain!-- Vermont Farmer. Philip Henry had just returned from abroad. It was summer, and the sea­ son unusually hot. He strolled along A h street, a handsome fellow to see, certainly. >But you had seen hap­ pier faces, perhaps. 44 A wearisome coming home," he said, looking along the familiar street. "I who was coming home to be mar­ ried." f \ A look of bitterness crossed the hand­ some face. 44 How soon she forgot me! See what woman's promise is worth!" He was proud and resentful. Two unanswered letters had been enough. He thought he had whistled his faithless lady-love down the wind, yet he would have given all the wealth he had gained in those two years abroad to have met Bertha Farley that day face to face. It was a hot dev. Suddenly it was stifling: then a great rain cloud emptied \tself almost before the sun was ob­ scured. " Everybody hastened to shelter. Philip Henry looked down on his light sum­ mer shoes, and stepped into a door­ way. Of course, the shower would not last long. The rain came down in bucketfuls. Watching it absently, it did not occur to him at first to observe the features ef his locality. At last he saw the'three gilt balls. A Monster Clock. Concerning the great clock in Pal­ ace Yard, Westminster, a writer in AU the Year Round says: The four dials, facing the four points of the compass, are each so large that there are but few rooms in Lonoon that would contain one of them on the floor. They are more than twenty-two feet in diameter; the framework, figures and divisions are of iron, and the spaces filled with opalescent glass. The fig­ ures are two feet high, and the minute marks nearly twelve inches apart--lit­ tle as we may think it when looking up from the Palace Yard. The minute hand, with its counter-weight and cen­ tral boss, is about two hundred weight. This, however, is little more than one- third as much as the original hand de­ signed by Sir Charles Barry, which was so elaborate and intricate, so full of angles and quirks that they interfered with the going of the clock. The min­ ute-hand is for the most part a flat­ tened copper tube, and is eleven feet long, without the counter-weight Dur­ ing Irueavy snow-storm a few weeks ago, the mixture of snow and rain that fell on it pressed so heavily on it as to stop the going. The hands of the four dials are, it is said, the largest in the world, except those of the Mechlin clock, which are, hewever, only hour hands, not comprising those which mark the minutes. Large clock-hands, of course, require the descent of heavy weights to set them going. Those at Westminster are indeed heavy. No less than a depth of 170 feet in the clock-tower is allotted for the descent of the weights. Going-weights and striking-weights together, they require 4,000 turns of a doubly-manned winch- handle to wind up. Sir Edmund said to the Horologists: Various suggestions were made by ingenious people for dis­ pensing with manual labor for winding: steam, water, the rise of the tide and other things even more unlikely were recommended. My answer was that the winding and care of the clocV would cost, perhaps, less tae in­ terest on th«> --'^uaiic machinery or febeam-enginea; that any such ma­ chinery would be liable to get out of order, and would, of course, require a man to attend to it, however automatic it might profess to be. Thereafter, as I always prefer "simple to complicated things, I prefer to nave the winding done in the old-fashioned way, running no risk of failure. I got over the dif­ ficulty of the maintaining power by di­ recting the man to stop winding about a minute before each hour and quarter. As there are weights to set the noble clock going, so there must be a pendu­ lum to regulate the motion when once produced, and it is a pendulum, in good sooth. It weighs nearly seven hundred pounds, is about thirteen feet long to the center of oscillation, and fifteen feet total length. The rod which holds it consists of a perforated iron tube in­ side one of &inc. Each beat of the pen­ dulum has to regulate the motion of something like a ton and & half of met­ al, in the form of hands, counter­ weights and clock machinery, and yet so delicately is it suspended by a slip of spring steel that one single ounce placed upon it at a particular spot would %mjct the rate of regulation. 'ouOis' department. A* | I iiii 'i I , <i I II" • fir \ |,'| I ^ Mnits TIRRSIRTF NNCRHZS TO SFIKKD THAXKMIIRIYA AT THE FARM. Hw tiQfoil told you (i don't think that /did) Wliatit was that, ttie very last moment. dc- eid«| % _ 3li8* Muslin to stay in the country all through • lto month of November a»d December, too? Tia a most painful story; indeed, there isiluiie Of her many "misfortunes1' so rad as this one. Which 1 feel sure would never ha»® ̂ at all But fur Mnkin tWl. that protaising youth one day said " if, my dear. You will stay at the farm till Thanksgiving. this year, Xt *sighit b'e '"V*00' tt*** strange That appeared! <b mjrealf on teat Thanksgiving 1 shaa t̂ tell yioo attaint mm about it," aid he. But 1 strongly «&>** that, tetwtei *<m»nd me. Though he vowed up and down he'd not say one word. 'TWM the (Mori 9/ tAe. Turkey to which he re­ ferred. T But he that as It at leart quite oertahi itlit Miftn Muslin decided to lengthen her visit; Aud-when, Thanksgiving night.. «he went up­ stairs, instead Of going, aa might be suppose, straight to bed. She sat up, in her room, till each one in the house Wiv> ̂ leaping, and all was as still as a mouse-- Then stole quietly down (it was now near eleven), , Bent on follv\*in» the tdvioe Unit h« oeooin had given. Sights in Aoscow. THE treasure whioh is kept at the Russian Palace at Moscow is one of the most interesting sights. One sees there all the crowns of the Czars of Russia from the time of the first Romanoff, also their scepters and coronation- ohairs, many of them presents from foreign sovereigns. A magnificent chair of carved ivory was given by the Sultan of Turkey. Here, too, are the coronation-robes, sparkling with jew­ els, and an immense pair of boots which belonged to Peter the Great; Many of the ancient jewels, necklaces, bracelets, ear-rihgs, etc., are kept here in a glass case. In a large hall, ar­ ranged in different groups, are all the presents which have ever been made to Russia by foreign countries; silver tankards, mother-of-pearl bowls, am­ ber ornaments, and all kinds of mag­ nificent things, as well as many com­ mon ones. Here, as in every corner of Europe, are souvenirs of Napoleon. His portrait, in full Emperor's robes, is hunsr in one of the rooms, and under­ neath Tt are the beds on which he slept when he was in Moscow. These are in a hall which is devoted to ancient equipages and saddles. Two of the latter were sent by the Sultan to Catherine II., and are covered with arte, emeralds, rubies and other pre­ cious stones. This Empress used to ride astride, dressed in male costume, with her hair floating over her shoul­ ders. Perhaps the most curious thing of all is an old carriage which was sent by Queen Elizabeth to the Czar Boris Godanuff. He implored her to come and help him drive the Turks out of Europe, whereupon she sent him word she could not do. that; but she made him a present of this carriage, oh the front of which Boris is represented con­ quering the Turks. The palace is inside the Kremlin walls. Some of the rooms are as large and handsome as those in the St. Petersburg Palace; the halls of St. Alexander and St. George are particu­ larly fine. The ancient partis curious; the ceilings are low and supported by rafters that a tall ma& can touch with the hand; but rafters, ceiling and walls are covered with paintings and decora­ tions. The rooms which the Shah of Persia occupied are exhibited--but ho did not sleep on the bed, he preferred the carpet. The only way to get about comfortably in Moscow in the summor is to walk where one wants to go. The streets are paved with cobble-stones, and these Russian drivers have no mercy on you, but rattle you relent­ lessly over the stones at the rate of twelves, miles an hour, so you are fortunate if you do not get a headache for the day. As for conversation, that is utterly impossible in a carriage. But what a capital plaee Moscow is for ladies to shop in! Opposite the Kremlin is the Gastinni Dror (Stran­ gers' Court), an immense square block of two-story buildings. A walk skirts all around the four sides under an ar­ cade, along which are ranged various booths. In all directions run narrow, dark, mysterious passages, and as you follow them along you nnd them lined with shops of every description. The building is all covered over, and is paved with stone--gutters running in the middle. The walks are obstructed with boxes and merchandise, not to mention beggar-children who sing out their story an a very plaintive way. The shops are small and mean-looking, most of them not more than six feet square, and the wares which are ex­ hibited are extremely common. But once let the merchant know that you understand what you are buying, and he rummages in all the dark little cor­ ners and brings out no end of treas­ ures, in the shape of old silver mugs and tankards, chains and crosses, bro­ cades, fine Russian laces, unset emer­ alds, turquoises and aquamarines, be­ side strings of real pearls and quanti­ ties of lapis lazuli articles. He charges a good round sum for his goods, but will take much less; sometimes half. A specialty of Moscow is the papier-mache work, which I havo seen nowhere else in such brilliant colors. This, how­ ever, is quite expensive. The Kremlin, by the light of the full uioon is a sight which pays for many weary days or travel. Every dome in the city stands out with wonderful dis­ tinctness, and all the delicate gilt crosses glitter in the soft light. Then the river winds about the city like a great snake, with the hundreds of gas­ lights on its banks reflected in the water. There are more than 1,000 churches in Moscow.--Cor. Boston Ad­ vertiser. most piteously, as though their hearts would break over the supposed death of their mother. This was opntwwd for a long time, till finally theOldlady, having in a measure slept off the ef­ fects of her debauch, with maoh diJS- culty, regained her feet, and looking around as if to ascertain her loc*»T?fjv sneaked off to her n*"*t cui nor did cuovv herself again until was sure she was entirely sober.. . . Whether she signed the pledge or-4 not I never learned, but certain it was 'she was eared of drinking; for while ahe lived she was never known to taste of another drop of intoxicating drinks; . Which is more than can be said for p . great many two-legged beasts. Yon will agree with me that by get­ ting dmnfc the mother was setting a very bad example before the little onee< but 1 think the whole family were heart­ ily ashamed of it, since 1 never knew one of them afterward to get any worse for liquor; though we can't tell what might have happened had they lived & good many years, and mingled in so­ ciety; but they all died young, whieh, was fortunate for them after all, if it saved thenv from drunkenness. Don't . you think so?--Rural New Yorker. Tim to the KlfM. V. »£ FKTA had ao dtc tuis strange miudv?" 4aid~ • ... t .-/• • : •. Y«m» «Mt rnmp aiylydows, hut before-going to bed. ^ i And eat ail there is that is left on the platter Of the Thanksgiving dinner! Indeed, it's no matter If you eat some pie, also, and maybe a few Of cold boiled potatoes and plum dumplings, too; Then go straight op to bed, and, I give yon fair warning, Yon: wilt see some Mtotiahing things before morning." Bo little Miss Muslin (as already said). Turning over this doubtful advice in rains < head. Crept down to the pantry. there. her Bat when she got She found that, although die climbed ° into i chair And stood upon tiptoe, yet even then each Of the things that she wanted was just oat of reach. " Dear me! I will have to ait down, I'm afraid. And wait till I grow a few inches," she said. But she soon, with a sudden resolve, pushed her hair back. And impatiently planting her foot on the chair- back, By taking firm hold of the edge of the shelf, Sne with great difficulty at length raised her- self High enough to get hold of the platter--when, lo! (How it happened, exaettv-Tm .«?* J. know) The shelf it gave way and she felt herself failing/ Ana the next instant, there, on the floor, she was sprawling, While saucera, plates, kettles, ptea, turkey and platter Pell thickly around her with horrible clatter. Did it hurt her? glad O, no; hut I think she'd been If. instead of what really did happen, it had. Of course such a noise could not fail to arouse f The people who slept in that part of the house. I^as (jrandmother Gxay first appeared with Ami found the poor child in a terrible plight For it happened a pail»/ mofaste* that stood On the shelf had come down in ft regular Jiood On the head of Miss Muslin, of Quintillion Square, ' : And quite saturated her beautiful hair! Alas, poor Miss Muslin! Again and agr.in v They brushed it and soaked it--but always in rain, Tm^atflengtli, aot without protestations and On her part, her grandmother brought out the shears And cut her hair dote, leaving* not one stray carl To show whether she was a boy or a girl! Now some one has told (pleaae don't say that / did) . What it was, at the very last moment, decided Miss Mu«lin to stay in.the country all through The month of November and December, too. --John lirownjohn, in November \\\<U-Awake. The Drwnken Hog. LISTEN, little children, while 1 tell you about a hog that got drunk on cider. No doubt you have seen a great many drunken men, but perhaps never a drunken dumb animal--they usually having too muoh self-respect to get drunk like some men. And even this one of which I am about to tell you, would undoubtedly have scorned the idea had he known beforehand the evil effects of taking 44 a drop too much." It was a great many years ago, when nearly every farm had a large orchard, and after storing away what apples were necessary for family use, the re­ mainder were manufactured into cider, which was afterward converted into brandy and the most of it consumed on the premises during the year. I was a boy then, and we lived about half a mile from an uncle of mine where the affair happened, the relation of which by my aunt caused no little merriment among us children. Previous to making cider, it was nec­ essary to clean the barrels of all the old cider and settlings which might re­ main in them from the previous year's supply, Mid in doing this my uncle thought it would be a matter of econ­ omy to turn it out where it would run down into the hog-yard, where was oonfined a large old sow with some ten or a dozen pigs of about three or four weeks old, so that they might drink it and nothing would be wasted. Accord­ ingly, barrel after barrel was brought out and the contents emptied before the old sow who stood ready to receive them, and as each new lot came, she frew more and more excited over it; er eyes glistened and she would fairly dance for ioy. while she seemed men­ tally ejaculating, " A little more cider for Miss Dinah,J' until finally, she be­ gan to show evident signs of intoxica­ tion. She would cut up all sorts of hoggish capers--ishe would run and squeal and tumble down; then she- would scramble up and try to walk on two legs, A>ut she would make about as much headway as some other two-legged creatures do when drunk. But there was one thing noticeable about her, she was perfectly good-natured about it; she didn't offer to fight, or even to bet on how much she was worth, but kept on cutting up sil­ ly capers and ludicrous faces, till at length, yielding to the foroo of circum­ stances. she gave over her vagaries, and stretching herself at full length upon the ground, was soon lost in a state of beastly intoxication. The little pigs, which till now had stood back ap­ parently wondering what had befallen their mother, now came forward to ex­ amine her as she lay insensible on the ground. They would ply their little noses to her to see if they couldn't rouse her from her stupor: failing in this, they would start in a string one after an­ other and run her over from head to tail and back again; crying meantime A WHEN I was a boy, I sometimes spent my summer vacation at the house of my mother'8 uncle, who lived near the foot of a beautiful green mountfrin. Near the summit of this mountain was r pretty little cascade, which was fre­ quently visited by those who passed the summer in that vicinity. These parties usually halted at the , spring, near uncle's nouse, where if bright tin cup was always placed for? public use. Frequently those who had not. made the ascent before would stop at the house for directions, and I would be sent to point out the way. I always walked to the first notched tree and left them, with the injunction, which I had so often heard from the dear old man,, " Watch for the notches, and turn al­ ways to the right." One day I accompanied my nnole to the village. We went to the Postoffice and store; then I held the reins while he went into the carpenter-shop. He came out with a nice, smooth piece of board, l^ith childish curiosity. I in­ quired, " What is that for, uncle?" Here plied, 441 shall write a lesson on it, for you to learn, and, if well remem­ bered, it will be very valuable." This reply only made me more anx­ ious, and 1 watched the board so cloae- ly when it was taken from the wagon that uncle laughed heartily, telling me it would take him several days to get the lesson ready. ' ' In about a week the board was brought out. It was painted white, and and in very blaok letters were the words, 44 Watch for the notches, and turn always to the right." I saw the heat sign nailed firmly to the first notched tree, and the little sermon of which those words were the text, was deeply impressed on my mind. Now," £aia my uncle, 44 there will be no ex­ cuse for those who get out of the right path, on this mountain. When I first came to live here there were plenty of berries to be found near the top. One day several boys went up with their baskets. They missed the path and were out all night. Another time a party with ladies and children lost their way, and the neighbors were out most of the night searching for them with lanterns. One lady was so nearly ex­ hausted that she afterward had a dan­ gerous illness.. Since that time I have been careful to deepen the notches every spring, and to say to every stranger that inquired, the words that arc painted on this sign. But, my dear boy, it is not only of the troubles which may be before those who wan­ der from the mountain path that I have been thinking. There is another path whioh leads to a more beautiful and desirable place, from whioh I trust you may never stray. It is the path of virtue and righteousness, and leads to the joys of Heaven. You must atart in this path with the fear of God in your heart, and can only keep in it by study­ ing His word' where the marks are all plainly set forth. While your path leads by the way of truth, honor and fidelity, you may know you are right. But should you run into deceit pr envy, hatred or malice, you must retrace your steps speedily, or the night of death may come and your ruin will bt inevitable."--€Hiieag& Standard. '* •* A Faitkftai Friend^ ^ , I HAVE lately seen an old Home at Bourn, in Lincolnshire, on the history of which I can thoroughly rely, and it is so remarkable that I think it worth publication, I have seen the horse my­ self, and as far as personal observation goes, I can thoroughly indorse the story. The horse is aged twenty-two, of the old short-legged coaching stamp, and has been in the possession of the present owner upward of sixteen years, during which period he has only had three days' rest, not excluding even Sundays. His work has been to run a heavy mail-cart from Bourn to Sway- field, a distance of fourteen miles, in- f\>A and one day a week two miles extra. The horse leaves Bourn between six and seven in the morning, and reaches Bourn about seven in the evening.. During his recreation at Swayfiela, the horse is kept in further exercise by working At the plow and other work upon a farm. He is without blemish and in capital condition. His work for the last sixteen years has been so uni­ form that the horse knows the particu­ lar places he has to stop at on given days of the week; for instance, he persist­ ently stops at the barber's shop on Tues­ days and Fridays, and six days a week he stops at a draper's shop for parcels, and on Sundays he won't stop at either place. His owner is so fond of him that, with a sort of feeling of Tom Moody, he hopes that he andliis horse mav be buried together.--CV>r. London iWi. • --As the horses came tearing down the home-stretch, the one in the rear was steadily gaining on his antagonist. Cries Pat, in his "excitement, 44 Five dollars that the hind horse comes in furst!" The bet was taken, and Pat lost, though his favorite won.-- Boston Transcript.