The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

*r w^^fr* JjP' St 1 -, j. /« ^ffeAi. 33.,-^.* , Jl̂ eary piakHetlep. i. TAN SLI&S, Mitsr A PablislMr. ** ?if-xHBNRY. & ILLINOIS 2* k ) AIM'S EXPERIENCE. THE Price family were gathered in te kitchen on Sunday morning. The mily consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Price, more commonly " Uncle1' and "Aunt11 Price; MUs Abigail Price, a spinster sister,! Mrs. Richton, Aunt Price's mother, an aj^ed lady of seventy years; ollie a niccc ~isiting Lhtj rm; and Bridget, a new recruit from land. Uncle and Aunt Price were dressed 111 their best, and their ancient horse, Elijah, harnessed in an open wagon, was in readiness to take them to church In the village, three miles away. A hiatus, however, appeared to have oc­ curred in the proceedings, for Aunt Price stood in the middle of the kitchen Irresolutely swinging her parasol, While Uncle Price switched the honey- pickle that grew around the door with Ids whip; Miss Abigail stood grimly re­ garding the twain, with her head tied In a duster; Moilie had paused in the open parlor door, Grandma Richton rocked feebly in the corner by the dresser, and Bridget peered in from the sink'room, open-mouthed. "Well," Bliss Abigail was remark­ ing, " if you think it's sale, far be it from me to make objections. You know James and Joseph are both gone--" " Sho!" put in Uncle Price, testily; " if it's come to that'tMarthy'n' I can't go to church Sundays, we'll move. We sha'n't he gone more'n two hours. Jest lock up all you like, and I'll resk your being troubled in broad daylight." " But Uncle," said Moilie, nervously, " you know they went to Sympson's at three in the afternoon, when they were sll out berrying, and they went to Flpyd's--'V "They'd nat'rally expect to get somethingat Floyd's," said Aunt Price; " but coming here right in the face of a parcel of women-folk, for the little they've got, would be some different." " Humph!" commented Miss Abigail. " they might as well steal our spoons as anybody else's; but, as I said before, if you think it's safe, and we a mile froni lfcy house, and the bolt lost off the wash-room door, why, then--" 14 Bolt lost? How's that?" " We can't find it, that's all; and there's no earthly way of locking it. And here there've been six robberies in a fortnight, and almost a murder." "Well, well," said Uncle Price, latching the wash-room door medita­ tively. "I'll go round to Nathan's after service and get his pistols. I hain't thought much about it, but it would be a good plan to have 'em here nights. Jest put in a piece of wood oyer this latch; that'll hold it; and keep qpiet and don't worry. Mercy! I never see nothing like you for worrying. I've locked the barn, and if anybody comes round, you jest p'int that old gun of mine out the chamber winder." " It's loaded, ain't it?" queried Aunt Pfioc, apprehensively. ' " I guess it would go off enough to make a noise. Abigail 'd want to fire something, and she might as well try that. You know the butt end, and that's all that's necessary." " Alt right," said Miss Abigail, with vnabdt&l grimness. " There's no tell­ ing what I may hit, but it don't matter much. If you come home and find" -- " Come, Mar thy," interrupted her brother; "we shall be late. Good-by, Sandma. Jest keep quiet, and I'll bet y best cow nothing '11 happen. Whoa, Elijah! Back!" Miss Abigail stood in the door until the antique wagon, Aunt Price's red SMA|1, a|id, Anally, the crown of Uncle Price's much-worn beaver-hat had dis­ appeared beneath the crest of the near­ est hill; then, after taking a compre­ hensive view of every part of the farm that caiae within the range of her vis­ ion,find herself examining the locks of the shod doors, she came back into the kited©!!, where Bridget, whose fears lfBtl'Meri grpatly excited by the forego­ ing .conversation, had collapsed upon a j dl&ur, and Moilie was spasmodically trying to reassure her. " There isn't the least danger, Brid get--at least I suppose there isnt; noth­ ing may happen, you know. We've only to keep the doors locked and keep hfeide--just be sure you do that--ana y*U needn't be afraid, ended Moilie, who, being from Boston, with all a city girl's horror of burglars, very much exaggerated the terrors of their posi- tion. rst«Hhure' an' TM niver left home for a 5la-ace where I'll be kilt intirely in the a-av toime!" moaned Bridget, with her face hidden in her apron; then sud­ denly upright, in fresh alarm, as a gust of wind whistled down the chim­ ney and clapped a blind together. " yhat's nothing but the wind. How it defes blow? though! Aunt Abigail, what are you going to do?" "Do? I'm going to fasten that wash­ room door!" respondeat Miss Abigail, who was dragging a heavy "beam of wood across the shed, which she pro- Wed^d to lean against the door in ques- tftm^bfraclrig the other end against the boiler. " I don't want any of Jona- lMan,e little pieces of wood stuck over latches. 1 mean to have it safe. The latch don't hold, anyway, and a wind this j^vould have that door open in a minute. I don't exactly like this ar­ rangement, either," she added, eyeing the uneven base of the beam with un­ friendly eyes, while Moilie stood, sym- pathizingly, in the doorway of the kitchen. " Well," continued %fiss Abigail, Bter a final cro wding in of the beam, Jrj l«Srjr3pc that must answer. Now, Bridget, we want dinner at a quarter past twelve. Get your fire made and let the cabbage be boiling. It won't do any good to sit there crying. I'll take care of the pudding. I'm going up-stairs to put mother to bed. fi you want anything speak to me, and don't unlock a door for your life. Moilie, will you just see that the lower win­ dows are fastened?" After a thorough examination of the foresaid casements, Miss Abigail came bf^k and took her invalid mother in ^oirge, with a final caution to JBridget, ( ' to "lether know if she saw anyone coining." Moilie, somewhat reassured by the existing quiet, went up to her own room and tried to fprget the pres­ ent in the latest of Mrs. South worth's novels. Meanwhile it would be impossible to describe the condition of Bridget's mind, thus left alone in the kitchen. Being firmly impressed with the con­ viction that unknown perils beset her, at first she dared not move from her chair. The cackling of the sociable fowls outside the door and each fresh gust of autumn wind caused her new tenor. Finally, after long waiting, she gained courage to cross the room and light the fire, moving about on tiptoe, with terrified glances behind her. If Miss Abigail had known that it was a quarter past eleven before the cabbage was put over the fire, she would cer­ tainly have scolded; but fortunately she had enough to do up-stairs. Bridget at last took heart of grace, and seizing the wash-basin, started for the cellar, and the potatoes which were in its farther corner. Bridget never entered this cellar, which was excessively dark and irregular, without crossing herself. Now the prospect was especially terri­ ble, and, with a muttered prayer to the Virgin, she went down the stairs with occasional haltings, and having filled the basin with almost miraculous speed, scurried back again. But to-day the kitchen had almost as many terrors for her as the cellar, and half-way up the stairs she was startled by a violent gust of wind and an ominous sound above. " Begorra, now," muttered Bridget to the potatoes, as she stopped in des­ peration, " the ould craytnur himself s in the house!" Another wild blast of wind that shook windows and doors. Bridget had reached the top of the stairs. She had closed the door leading into the wash­ room half an hour ago. From behind this door sounded a rumble which seemed caused by the sliding of some heavy body, followed by a violent clat­ ter; then came a heavy shock against it, which seemed to Bridget's excited senses like the thunders of the Judg- ment-Day. The door burst open, and never doubting that robbers and mur­ derers were behind it, Bridget dropped the potatoes with a shriek that rang through the house, and rushing back to the cellar, pushed the door together, and held it with the strength of desper­ ation. Moilie, in the chamber above, roused from her book by this startling inter­ ruption, sprang into the center of the room, and listened a moment, with a face as white as her dress. There was a final crash below, and without the least idea what she was doing, Moilie started for the kitchen in such haste that she fell down the last five of the back stairs, and bursting open the door at the foot, rolled into the lower room, where she picked herself up, too much excited to think of her bruises. Potatoes were scattered over the floor in every direc­ tion. The kitchen door was open, the wash-room door was open, and the beam lay on the floor. From behind the cellar door came a half smothered moan. Moilie had scarce time to re alize these facts before Miss Abigail arrived on the scene, breathless with excitement. L "Oh, aunt!" gasped Moilie, horrified at the sound of another groan behind the cellar door, " some one's down cellar, and Bridget's there! I do be­ lieve she's half murdered. 'Sh! I must have frightened 'em tumbling down­ stairs." "How many of 'em are there?' queried Miss Abigail, in a hoarse whis per, glancing around fo^ some weapon of defense. " I don't know. I guess there are two." Miss Abigail waited for no more, but, nerved by the thought of Bridget in the hands of murderers, seized the kettle of boiling water from the stove, and rushing to the cellar door, which opened from the kitchen, threw herself against it. She soon found that the door was held on the other side, and that it would require her utmost efforts to open it. " Come and take this!" she said to Moilie, holding out the kettle. There .was a trisl of strength. Miss Abigail's muscular energy was not des­ picable, but Bridget was desperate, and would have died before the door should have been opened. The spinster was forced to give up the contest, and stood back, baffled and exasperated. A bright idea, however, presently darted through her mind; and signing to Moilie to follow her, she ran into the woodshed. Moilie, leaving the kettle in the first handy place, which hap­ pened to be the lowest step of the hack stairs, obeyed; but Miss Abigail was al­ ready on the way back with the clothes­ line in her hand. " If we can't get t»," she explained, in a nervous whisper, " they sha'n't get out at any rate! I don't see as we can help Bridget any, but we can keep 'em down there till Jonathan gets back. There's only one window, and that's barred and too small for a man to crawl through. Miss Abigail proceeded hastily to tie a slip-knot around the old-fashioned "handle" of the latch on the cellar door, which she drew tight; then, cross­ ing the kitchen, she passed the other end of the line aronna the pump, and making it "taut" with considerable exertion, wound it around again and again, and finally tied it in an unskill­ ful but viciously twitched knot. Moilie, who in spite of her concern for Bridget, had been in terror lest the outlaws should suddenly burst out upon them, drew a long breath of relief when this was done; but her satisfaction was dis­ turbed by a sharp exclamation behind her. Grandma Richton, alarmed at the noise, had crept feebly down the back stairs to " find Abigail." and had. of course, fallen over the kettle of boil­ ing water, amidst rivulets of which she was feebly struggling. "There! now she's killed herself!" ejaculated Miss Abigail, diving under the rope to the rescue, while Moilie looked bn in horror. Grandma Richton was lifted and laid on a couch in the corner, and while Miss Abigail, oblivious of everything else, for the moment, was ascertaining the extent of her injuries, Moilie com­ menced a nervous promenade about the room. It was in the midst of this promenade that she happened to glance out of the west window, and saw, to her utter horror, the figures of two strange men coming " across lots" to­ ward the house. There are no words in the English language strong enough to express Mollie's feelings at this junc­ ture. She just clutched feebly at Miss Abigail's dress, as the latter hurried past her in search of remedies for scalds. " Aunt! aunt! there ftTe two «<*e of them! See!" Miss Abigail looked out the window, then back at her mother, and stood stock-still in genuine despair; then, in­ spired with momentary strength by the stebt of the open wash-room door, which they had not thought of shutting, she hastened to close it, and hoisted the beam again. j ^That's no good," she said hurried­ ly. "Here, Moilie, come and help me move this secretary against the door. Mercy on us, child, aon't stop to be frightened now!" she added, as Moilie approached, shaking in every limb with terror. "Now close those inner blinds, so they can't look in, and shut the sit­ ting-room door." A fresh groan from the cellar, elicited by Grandma Richton'» moans, which caused Bridget to suppose that the whole household was being murdered, did not add to Mollie's comfort. Miss Abigail, having poured liniment hastily over Grandma Kichton's scalds, hurried up stairs to watch the movements of the approaching enemies. She and Moilie, crouched behind the yellow cur­ tain at Uncle Price's chamber window, peered forth. The men had reached the back garden wall, over which they were leisurely climbing. They were rough-looking, and evidently bent on depredation, for they occasionally paused to help themselves to " wind­ falls," and once shook a pear-tree and filled their pockets with the fruit with a coolness that caused Miss Abigail silently to take down the gun and hold it at arms-length as she brought it to the window. "Oh, Aunt Abigail, take care! It'll go off!" exclaimed Moilie. "I.mean it shall, if they do much more," rejoined the spinster, turning the gun around with gingerly care. "You'd better get out of the way, Moi­ lie. I might hit you, just as like, or the thing might explode. It hasn't been used for years." "You ought to keep hold of some­ thing when you fire it," suggested Moi­ lie, from the other side of the bed. "It will kick and throw you down. Guns always do." "They're trying the back-door," an­ nounced Miss Abigail, in an excited whisper. "They only knocked once. I wonder if those robbers in the cellar belong to the same set. They're shak­ ing the door, the villains!" Two or three loud knocks sounded through the house, and then the men tried the nearest window; finding that fast, another and yet another, while Miss Abigail watched them from above with fast-growing anger; they then took a leisurely survey of the house, evidently undecided what to do next. "I wish 1 could hear what they're saying," said the spinster, vexedly. "I heara'all gone to church.' That one in the red shirt said it. I expect they'll get a battering-ram next. I'll keep still as long as I can." Instead of proceeding to any extreme measures, however, the men calmly lighted a couple of pipes, during which operation they more than once laughed uproariously. They afterward made a circuit of the house, tried every win­ dow, including those in the sheds, and shook the doors vigorously; meanwhile Miss Abigail and Moilie followed their course through the chambers, the for­ mer still carrying the gun. Having come back to their original starting- point, they held another consultation, after which, to the amazement of the watchers, they went off to the barn. "I'd like to know what that's for!" ejaculated Miss Abigail, at her wit's end. "They'll steal that other horse, or else they'll get something and break a window up here; and there's no knowing what those men down cellar are about" All was quiet for a time, the stillness being only broken by the groans of Grandma Richton. The intruders were nowhere to be seen. Finally, Moilie, reconnoitering from an attic window, discovered that they had entered the corn barn by means of a rear window, had opened the door, and were sitting upon two barrels smoking. " Mercy on us!" exclaimed Miss Ab­ igail, glancing at th» clock, and then sinking intp a chair. "Here it's ten minutes of twelve o'clock and Jonathan and Marthy coming home, without a thought of what's happened. Jonathan '11 drive right round that corn barn, as sure as fate, and into the barn. Tlreylll be there laying in wait for him. They're setting just where they can see the whole length of the road, and they mean to do the sly. They'll murder him and go off with the plunder in our wagon--that's all!" Mollie's cheeks grew paler yet. "But, aunt, you snow we can rush out and warn him when he's at the foot of the hill; and he'll have Ulicle Nath­ an's pistols." ^'Not het I never knew Jonathan Price to do a thing the day he said he was going to; and he's an old man --no match for those two wretches. They just mean to kill him and then have their own way. There, they've shut the corn barn door. I told you so." It did sr>em mysterious that the two men should have shut themselves in the corn barn. Miss Abigail needed no further evidence of their evil intentions. "Moilie," she said, solemnly, "there's only just one thing to do. You must run across lots and meet Jonathan, and tell him to bring two or three of the Clark boys home with him. We've cot these people in the cellar to dispose^>f. Tell them to hurry, for if Bridget isn't dead already, she's pretty near that. I'd go myself, but I can't leave you here alone. I'll let you out the front­ door, and you can kind of creep along behind the walls.," "But what if they should chase me!" gasped Moilie. " They won't see you. They've shut the door, and you needn't run across the open fields." " But, aunt, I shall have to go out front, and those men in the cellar will be sure to see me. They must be watch- If they should, they might fire at --A man in New Orleans has invent­ ed a process of manufacturing mirrors, which, it is claimed, is destined to take fVia nlana a# tlio nninlrflilvoi* nwknaea In UUV V* , V* V^WVM* AU only ten or fifteen minutes the sub­ stance used in place of the quicksilver is made to adhere to the glass, and the cost of the substance is not more than one-tenth that of quicksilver. Anyone can convert an ordinary piece of glass into a mirror after acquainting himself with the process. --Shaky firms must hurry up wld iail quick. The act repealing the Bank­ rupt act goes into effect in September. ing. me.' Miss Abigail was only posed for*a moment "Well, Til tell you. Put on a pair of Jonathan18 pantaloons and his gray coat Tuck your hair up under his big straw hat, and, if they see you, they'll think it's one of their accomplices. Hurry, now, it is almost twelve. ' x . It was of no use to remonstrate. MoK lie was hurried up-stairs, not knowing whether to la-jgh or cry, and too mud* frightened to do either, and was put in­ to the ^ before-mentioned garments; then, without a moment's delay, she was pushed down to the front door. "Hurry, now!" said Miss Abigail. "• j have that gun up at the front window, and if one of 'em chases yoi|, I'll fire at him." "Don't!" cried Moilie, horror-strick- en at the prospect " You'd hit me in­ stead. I won t go unless you--" " Well, well, run along!" and the front door was cautiously opened and. as cautiously closed, and Moilie ran un» der the shelter of the east wall. " Uncle and Aunt Price, peacefully jogging homeward in the scant autumn sunlight, were amazed to see a nonde­ script figure suddenly appear from a clump of hazel bushes at the foot of a hill. "Mercy!" said Uncle Prioe, dubious­ ly, pulling up Elijah, " what's that?" "It's a crazy critter," exclaimed Aunt Price. "Do go along, Jonathan.'. " It looks more Tike a running scare­ crow. Stop, Marthy, don't you touch the horse--it seems to me them clothes looks nat'ral." In a moment more the apparition, clearing the wall at a bound, actually threw itself into the wrgon. The amazement and amusement of the worthy couple were nipped in the bud by the story that the " scarecrow" had to tell, however. "I didn't get the pistols," said Uncle Price, remorsefully. "I got so sorter calmed down after hearing the sermon. I'll stop at Clark's. Huddup, Elijah!" Elijah, induced by a thorn bush, did huddup; and ia about fifteen minutes they drove up to Uncle Price's farm, with three stout men in the back of the wagon. All was quiet. House and barn seemed uninhabited. Uncle Price, rendered warlike by his reinforcements, drove straight to the corn barn, and after a careful survey around, began to dismount. " Perhaps the door on the other side is open," suggested Clark senior, whose quick eye had detected two wreaths of smoke curling faintly around the corner of the building. " I guess they're only tramps. They take it pretty cool, any­ way." A hearty, rollicking laugh rolling out from behind the closed door caused Uncle Price to stop and stare blankly before him; then to jump to the ground and throw open the corn barn door precipitately, in spite of a warning cry from Miss Abigail, who had approached from the house. There were the two causes of disturbance, one calmly tilted back on a barrel, the other in the midst of another laugh. " Je-rw-salem!" cried Uncle Price, dashing his hat to the ground in the extremity of his astonishment--" David Henry!" Explanations ensued. The new-oom- ers were two sea-faring nephews of Uncle Price's who had come down "be­ tween times to see how the farm stood it," and had taken up quarters in the corn barn, meaning to surprise the fam­ ily on their return. "Took us for burglars!" ejaculated David Henry, going off into another laugh, which communicated itself first to Uncle Price, then to Aunt Marthy, then to the Clarks in succession, Miss Abigail alone remaining sober. "You've forgotten Bridget," she re­ marked, briefly, when she could make herself heard. Uncle Price's good-natured face lengthened, and ne started for the house, preceded, however, by the im­ pulsive David Henry, who rushed into the open kitchen door like a whirlwind, and, unconscious of snags ahead, pitched headlong oter the clothes-line, which was still stretched across the room. "Hello Ihure!" said Uncle Price, alarmed at the clatter which his nephew's boots made among the milk pans on the dresser. " Are you hurt?" David Hemy picked himself up, mut­ tering something which had an oath in it about "catlines and rigging," but deigned no farther answer. All parties being now on the scene, Uncle Price cut the clothes-line and essayed to open the cellar door; but this was easier said than done. Bridget's fright was as great as ever. It required the combined strength ef two Clarks to force the door; which be­ ing done, they discovered Bridget on the upper stairs, with not a particle of color in her Irish face, and her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth in terror. If any artist had depicted faithfully the various attitudes of the various per­ sons gathered around that r door, the picture would have jnatlo his lor- tune. Clark senior was tne first to per­ ceive the comedy of the affair, and a broad grim gradually spread over his face, which was mirrored on the coun­ tenances of his two sons. In one min­ ute the kitchen was ringing with a uni­ versal and prolonged burst of laughter. One fact remains to be stated, that is, that Bridget left the farm the next day.- Miss Abigail says little concern­ ing-burglars, and less concerning fire­ arms. Whenever she does, Uncle Price merely alludes to " that Sunday morn­ ing's experience."--Harper's Weekly. Youths9 Department. HOW WILLY WOLLY FISHING. OwSnsr, And, as it ctinnc«M a boluigr. Why. Willy Wolly W.i![y Wolly planned, you To catch a speckled trout: Bat caught a very different fish From what he had laid out! Ifttfiew of all the fishes-- " » Who much enjoyed the joke. With many a joyous wriggle And finny punch and pole-- Yoong Willy Wolly, leaping A fence with dire design. Had carelesslv left swinging Bis fishing-hook and lina. How Willy Woilv did it, 11, jbh ett! WENT A mm. fm .. jlly < ^He really < ould not tel instantly he had his _ E*wew!i«g imt and wel Ha hooked the straggling moni^ Securely in the sleeve; Ana, all at once, he found it tisM * His pleasant sport to low*-- 'Twaa not a very gamy fish For one BO larae and strong. That Willy Wolly, blubbering, Helped carefully along. ' --Meat pork. . for repentance -- Trichina Th® srisrjflinz fishes crowded to Th« nrer bank to look. As Willy Wolly, captive, tai Himself with line and book! When Willy Wolly went, yon To catch a speckled trout, Why. Willy Wolly caught Mtntefft ': And so the joke is out. Bb mother saved that barbed hook) n r And sternly bid him now No more to dare a-fishing go, Until he has learned how! --S. C. Ston,', in St. NickdUU. THE ANGEL WITH FOEDED WINKS. I HAD been down town shopping, and on my return, as it was just time for school to close, I thought I would go home that way, and so, perhaps, have the company of one or more of our lit­ tle folks for the remainder of my walk. As I arrived in sight of the school- house the children were trooping out, and were lining the sidewalks in all directions. Some of the boys were stop­ ping to spin their tops; the girls, many of them, were showing their skill in throwing and catching the "return ball," others were chatting over the day's lessons, but all were looking very happy that school was over, and that a half holiday was just ahead of them. Close to the gate I found a little group collected; and as I drew near I was pained to hear a voice that sound­ ed very like our little Mary's talking in loud and excited tones. I joined the circle at once, and sure enough there she was in the center of it, standing be­ fore a boy who was twice her size, her eyes flashing, her iace flushed with in­ tense feeling, while he looked both ashamed and sullen. 'Just as I stepped up unnoticed by any, she was saying: " You ought to be ashamed of your­ self, Jim Plummer. You are a bad, wicked boy. You will never go to Heaven, never, _and I hate you; I'll never speak to you again as long as I live--so there now!" And with a stamp of her little foot May pushed her way through the group, and started on a run for home. "May," I called, "stop, May, and wait for me." She turned, and seeing me ran to my side and burst into tears. " Ain't it too bad, Aunt Katv," she sobbed out, " that bad Jim Plummer has been a makin' fun of poorv little Archie Howard, what's got the little sick back, you know. An' jest when Archie was a comin' out of school, Jim hollered out jest as loud as anythin': ' Hulloa, here comes Hunchie, with his pack on his back.' Wa'n't it awful, aunty P and poor Archie, the tears came right into his eyes; but he never said a word back, only when he got up to where Jim was, "he said real softly: wish God had made me straight like you, Jimmie,' and then he went right along home. But wa'nt't I mad, though; and didn't I give it to him P I just wish Jo or some of the big boys had been there; wouldn't they have given him fits for makin' fun of a poor dear sick boy like Archie P' And here May burst into another fit of crying. - "Come, come little girl,*' I said, "I don't blame you one bit for feeling angry at so cruel a boy, buthe has hurt himself far more than he has Archie, for no one will ever love or care for one who would speak unkindly to one of God's little, weak and sickly lambs. But this is Wednesday, you know, and the day for our story, and it may com­ fort you a little to have me tell you a perfectly true story of a dear little de­ formed girl whose aunty I know well; and who told me the story herself. Per­ haps some time you can tell it to Archie when it will be a real help to him, and will show him that there are but very few boys in the world, even among the poorest and the most forsaken, who could be so cruel as Jim Plummer has been to-day: " Fay Hooper was at the time of my story about thirteen years of age. Her face was one of the most beautiful ever looked upon. She wus very fair and white, with the most delicate pink in her cheeks, which, when she smiled, were dented with two deep dimples, and her lips when parted showed two even rows of such lovely white teeth, that they looked exactly like two strings of little tiny pearls, wliile her beautiful golden-colored hair fell in long ringlets to her waist. But, alas! her poor shoulders were sadly out of shape, and she had never grown any after she was eight years uld. A wee little dwarf she was and must always be, who could never join with the children in their sports, and who at times through her whole life must long and wish for that which she could, never have. bodv God f .A* " But with her poor little had given her the sweetest and happi­ est disposition. She would sit out of doors in her easy chair, watching the children at plav. and would laugh so merrily at their pranks, and say so many funny things, that all the little folks in the neighborhood used to say that they never had a really good time unless Fay was near by. _ In winter, well wrapped up in her little sleigh, with two of her girl friends for a pair of ponies, they would take her to the hill to watch the merry coasters, while at the pond where the skaters were, there was many a good-natured quarrel among the boys to know who should be the one to push Fay's sleigh over the ice. " In fact, she shared, as far as she could, all their sports; for the children loved her very dearly and tried to make her forget how unlike them die wmJ But sometimes poor would get sad in-spite of all she could do, and maw times did her mamma find her hiddetL, away from sight, crying, oh, so bitter* ly, and when she tried to comfort heK! she would say: 1 " 'But, oh, why, mamma, do you sup-" pose the dear God didn't make me taui' and in shape, like ail the other chil­ dren,' and then looking so mournfully into her mother's face she would ado, ' just think, mamma, I shall never be ft gro wn up girl, but always poor wee de­ formed Fay.' " But now I am coming to something very pleasant that happened to Fay otte day while she was visiting her auntie in Boston, the lady who told me the story, and who said every word of it was true. "She was weary of staying in tl&e house, and so had obtained permission of her auntie to go to a store near fejy and look at some pictures there. "She was dressed, as she always was, in pure white, her dress being made to hide as much as possible her poor little back, while over it hung her beautiful curls, making the most lovely mantle you could think of. She had tied on at starting a white lace hat, but the wind had blown it baok, so that the sweet face was in full view. She was stopping to look at the window of the store she was about to enter, and was so much interested in what she saw that she had not noticed a poor, ragged and dirty boy who had taken his stand beside her, and was gazing very earn­ estly at her. " He was truly a boy of the street. not, perhaps, a wicked one, but whose eyes looked mischievous, and as thougli at times their owner could say some pretty saucy things. But there was nothing of that about him now. He simply stood and looked at Fay as if he was almost afraid of her, ana yet as though he could not take his eyes from her if he would. > r • ' "At last she turnedsuddenly, she felt that she was being watched* and seeing the boy at her side lookiug at her, earnestly, she asked, in her sweet voice:. "' Why do you look at ' me so, pomfcZ b o y P ' , ; i . ' 4 '•For a moment he did not speak; then, hesitatingly, he reached out and touch­ ed her white dress very gently, and asked, in almost a whisper: « ^ "* Say, be you an angel f' ? 3; I "With one of her bright smifoft, llle f < answered: ~ , " ' Oh, no, indeed! I'm just like you --a child of this earth.' , "' But,' said the boy, ' your face is just like them pictures of angels, and I - thought inside that place up there (pointing to Fay's poor little-back) was i where you kept your wings, only that' you'd got 'em folded up jest now.' " Little Fay had been made happiest by that poor boy's thought than the sight of any pictures could make her, and only stopping long enough to say, ' God bless you, poor boy, for telling me that,' she ran home as fast as she could go,. to tell her auntie about it; and when, in the months that followed, she would at times get very sad in thinking of her poor body, she would suddenly brighten up ana say to hifir mother: 1 f ' "4 Well, never mind, mamma, there is one boy in the world who thought i was an angel, only that my wings were folded up; and the recollection never failed to bring a smile to her face. And those who know and love her have no doubt that some day her dear Heavenly Father will give her the beautiful wings of an angel, and that she will never have any need to fold them. " " Auntie," said May, as I finished, ; "I mean to tell that to teacher, and asS:: her to tell it to the scholars, and perw haps it will make Jim Plummer real sorry'cause he spoke to Archie, and all the rest of the children kind to . everybody who ain't well and strong, and whole like themselves."--7%fi Golden Rule. ; The Sorrows of tienlus. Thk night is waning, and the hush of inspiration makes the sanctum solemn) The news editor has just written him­ self a New York dispatch telling all about the sea-serpent. The political editor is just closing a crusher full of blood and thunder, and winding up with a terrible exposure. The proof­ reader is opening a new case of pencils for the purpose of marking all the errors in six lines of proof. The funny man, from the tearful expression of h& sorrowful countenance, is known to be in the throes of a joke. The joke is born, and this is its name: " A man died in Atchison, Kan., last week, from eating diseased buffalo- meat. A clear case of suicide from . cold bison." Enter the intelligent compositor-- "This Atchison item, what is this last word?" To him, the funny mail--" Bison." Intelligent compositor--" B-i-s-o-n?*' Funny man--" Yes." The intelligent compositor demands to be informed w hat it means; and the painstaking funny man, with many, tears, explains the joke, and, with grea| elaboration, shows forth how it is # play on " cold nisen." eAf* "Oyes,"says the intelligent eoia-t^#1 positor, and retires. Sets it up " cola * poison." Funny man gsoans, takes the proof, seeks the intelligent compositor, and *; explains that he wishes not only t#v>* make a play on the word " pisen, but"' also dn the word " bison." - " And what is thatP' ' asksthe telligent compositor. The funny man patiently explains that it means "buffalo." " O yes.'" shouts the intelligent com­ positor; -- now I understand."' Mortified funny man retires, »»nd goes home in tranquil confidence and grow­ ing fame. Paper comes out in the morning "cold buffalo." Tableau. Red fire and slow curtain. -r-Burlington Hmok-Eye. • • •--»--• , i. --The most absurd hen is to befeuml " downtown. About noon she mouut^v the roost and lays her egg. letting Itf t'- fall four feet. It is supposed she tikei." to hear It drop.̂ -£otfUVille Cb*rie Journal. m- 1% <'~X