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smell and soft enfolded in tissue paper. On removing the inner covering Dick uttered a long, low whistle. The little packet contained a. curl of hair. He struck alight and looked at it more closely, the tiny ring glittering In his hand like threads of gold. It was tied up with blue ribbon, and pinned to the small, silken knot thus made was a narrow strip of printed paper. which. on closer investigation, appeared tobe a motto that had probably once formed part of a cracker. Dick unpinned it. and smoothed it out, slowly spelling vwer its contents. These were :the albalistic words it bore :-â€" g. I am young and I am bonny. 1 am tender. I am true; If you'll have me for your sweetheart. "ll have you. Click whistled again, and then laughed. “Coom, this in rayther strong," he remarked. He looked at the curl again; it seemed to be of a very pretty color. I. kind of red gold, each individual hair glittering in the light. He touched itâ€" it was as soft as velvet; he turned it over and over in his hand. “I connot call to mind anybody as has hair of this color.” he mused. ' “It is bonny. too. I wonder who i’ th’ world can 113’ sent it to me. '3 He folded up the parcel again, and thrust. it into his waistcoat pocket, hum- ming a little ditty to himself, his face alight with curiosity and pride. When he entered the family living- room, he found his landlady, Mrs. Ann Jump, a hard-working washerwoman, seated at table with all her children round her. She looked up inquiringly as the entered. “Did yo’ notice anybody go past my window this arternoon ’6" inquired Dick, seating himself and endeavoring toas- sume a casual air. “Why, of. course, 1 should think a. good few folks went past yo’r window toâ€"day, same as ony other day,” re- sponded Mrs. Jump, a trifle tartly. “Yo’ didn’t notice ony'oody partic’lar, .'. ‘uppose ’9’” pursued Dick. “Nay, I have other things to be thinkin’ on nor to be standin’ watchin’ th' folks pass by. It. is Saturday toâ€"dsy: “We was jest goin’ to begin; yo're late today, Richard.” and I’ve been agate an my work sin' afore dayleet. I only jest sat me down store yo’ coom in.” . “Did yo’ ha’ lady callers toâ€"day then ‘3” msisted Dick, stiil determined to fathom the mystery of his myste- rious present_. _ A â€" A . ‘ . ‘ {'Bieés tha lad! whatever is he moid- erm’ abou'H Lady callers of a Satur- day! ijely, 1311’: it ‘2‘ 11' any vga‘s to thot." Mr. Jump, who now entered the room. divesting himself of his coat as he did so, remarked, with a loud, cheery laugh, that “Dick thought very like as it wasi ‘eap year soom of his lady friends had3 coom to ax him to put up the hams”; Dick responded with a laughing retort. He had forgotten about leap year, and the {act did indeed seem to throw some light upon the mystery. Though he; Would not own it, he thought in his owni mind that it was extreme.y likely that? one or other of the bonny lasses with1 whom he had “walked” during the pre-g ceding year had considered it time to: ascertain the nature of his intentions! Dick was a buck in his way, a hand-; some young fellow, who thoughta good deal of himself and had on more than one occasion boasted that he had only to raise a finger and he “could have ony one 0’ th’ village beauties for the axin’;” some one had evidently wished to give him rather a broad hint. Dick owned to himself with a sigh that it would be well to concentrate his attentions upon one individual in particular. But who was the owner of the hair? Not Mary Lathamâ€"she was as black as a sloe; nor Kitty Norris, her hair was lint. white. Could it be Jenny \Vharton? He could not at that moment recall the color of her locks, but he did not think they were of this beautiful ruddy gold, Jenny \Vharton was a fine, dashing, goodâ€"tempered lass, with whom he had always found it pleasant to take awalk or to crack a jokeâ€"did Jenny really take his careless attentions seriously, and was she determined to bring him to the point 7 “'fheer’s two opinions about every- thing,” said Dick to himself. “I’m noa.n so sure_ now that I do fancy hor. _.]_t_1s He went to bed in a perplexed condiâ€" tion of mind and next morning woke with the dawn, and examined the little trophy tn daylight. It was pretty hair; he had never seen any of that. particular hue before. No, hey did not think it could belong to Jenny. Then he read once more the motto:â€" I am young and I am bonny. I am tender, I am true; If you’ll have me for your sweet- heart I’ll have you. “A bit barefaced,” he mused. “'If ou’ll have me for your sweetheart, I’ll have you.’ But it is leap year, of course, and I reckon the lass thinks ‘hoo’s doin’ no harm in taking advan- a pity if huo’s coom to tak’ sich a lik'm for me. He diessed wiih unusual care. plas- tearing his locks “eii “ith highly scented pomatum; a luxury dear to the rustic soul donning a. tie of abrilliant mixtogether presenting a. very anmen he entered the tage of it." , I’d 'st1) run ’em odt, I know “In conclus- little figure 81 of the bench i The shadow of a ' fallen across her, b she suddenly stooped up a detached leaf ha from her prayer-book. caught, the light, and Dick st saw thatL the soft, smooth coi which was gathered up beneath white. straw hat. gleamed with the familiar ruddy glow which haunted his thoughts. His eyes often rested on the little figure as the service proceeded. lts aspect was wholly unfamiliar to him. and when the girl turned her head he found to his surprise that he did not. recognize the face. It. was a very sim- ple little faceâ€"round, and pink and white. and rather freckled, the nose slightly crooked, the eyes large and blue and babyish. W'hen she knelt down Dick saw that the long curling lashes that veiled these eyes were only a shade or two darker in color than the hair. Dick’s thoughts were much preoccuâ€" pied, and it is to be feared that his devotions were frequently interrupted by the vague wonder as to how this un- known lass should have heard of him or why she had taken a fancy to him, for that she had sent him this love-token he never for an instant doubted. Hers were the only locks in the whole village whose. color matched the little curl shut up in Dick’s trunk at home. ' w-.- -v- - “Yo’ re a. stranger here, ar ’n't yo’?” asked Richard, wuh his most engaging smile. “I' ve coom to be sarvant at Thorn- dons’.” VVhen the congregation left the church he loitered behind .until the glrl in question came out, and then. boldly went up to her. Rustic etiquette, stringent enough on some points, 18 nevertlheless comfortably lax 1n many particulars; any young man may speak to any young woman Without needlng to wait for an introduction. - ' AAA- “I’ ve nobbtit jest coom," she re- sponded. “Well, and what are yo’ doin’ here in the_ village?” pursued Dick. “011?, yo’ han, han yo’? I heard as their Maggie had left. Well, and what may yofr _name be'?’ a- ‘ 1‘1 7‘. “Sarah Lupton,” was the reply, “but they allus call me Sally.” The golden eyelashes were now shyly uplifted, and with a saucy smile she added, “And what may yoirs be, if I may. ax?" .‘I I I “000m. yo' know mine well enoug‘h',”' returned Dick, laughing; but Sally stared at him with unfeigned surprlse. Could it be p- "sible that, after all, she had failen in love with him Without so ; much as knowing his name? “Well; then, my name’s Richard .Myers, and§ they call me Dick,” he said. “Yo’ can i call me Dick if yo’n a mind.” 1 “’Tisn’t Likely as I'shaii want to call yo’ onythin’,” returned Sat-1y. “I mum g gg’ anythin',” returned Sally. ."I mun 1 off awhoam now, or th’ missus’uIH be calrlin’ out for me." “Dun yo’ ever go for a walk Sunday 1 arter-noons 3” inquired Dick. “I do, when theer’s anybody to walk “Yo’ can walk wi’ me, if yo’ fancy it." Sally again raised those long, muo- cent-looking lashes, and surveyed Dick critically with her babyish blue eyes. Dick felt the color mount to his face the while, but the result of Sally’s investi- gation appeared to be satisfactory, for she nodded, and said sucoiuot;1y:-: “Two o’olock this day, then. I can have from two to six, missus sa 8.” “I will meet yo’ at the Lone .nd," said Dick, feeling a little queer as he turned away. He had often walked with lessee before, but never yet with! one w 110 had calmly announced her in- tention of being his sweetheart. Punctualtly to the minute, however, he appeared at the appointed meeting- place, and soon described Sally’s small figure tripping down the lane to meet him. She really was a pretty little thing, and for a moment or two Dick lost all his previous self-consciousness as he considered her. ."A nice little body,” he thought to nunselrf, “and a notable little body. Hoo’d mak’ a chap comfortable enough, I dare say.” Sally wore a print frock with sprigs of green all over it, and there were green ribbons in her hat and at her throat, and she had altogether acertain springlite freshness about her most comforting to the eye. “\Vheer shall we go ?” inquired Dick. “Jest as yo’ fancy,” was the accom- mOdating reply. O <- A â€"â€"vvâ€"â€"‘-â€"â€".â€"â€"C’ _._. __ ‘ Dick paced along by her side for some minutes in silence, and then he said, “\Ve will go reet into the fields, wheer theer’ll _be_ nobry to bother ns‘.” 0 q They followed a narrow path beside a green new-building hedge; the sky was blue overhead with litt e fleecy clouds which seemed to add to its brightness. Everything was green and bright and fresh and new, this spring morning. Dick, as he walked along, felt his heart bound as it had never bounded when he was escorting Mary Latham or Jenny \Vhar’ton; and yet both Mary and Jane were, strictly speaking, far “bonnier” than little golden-haired SaL-ly. 'lheir conv ersation, however, touched oni3 on the most ordinary topics. Saily was very discreet and very demure. \\ hen Dick offered her his arm, she decided that she cou d “jest aswell do W1 ’out, ” and when he paid her one or. two of the stereotyped compliments, whichin Jane’s and Mary’s casehe had ever found effective, she desired him, with a certain curt decision, to‘ ‘give ower that nonsense.” At last he resolved to come to an" understanding with her; and pausing when they had reached awood, already green, he proposed that they should rest 21 few minutes in the shade. “The suns not that hot,” protested: Sally, but she consented nevertheless. They 83-3 down on the short, young glassand presen‘l’y Dick inquired, in 3. mt __ ntwltime; where it was she had n » ~ \ - a? h. 3 Dick Whistled. “Salnly,” he said, “we’s ha,’ no more of this. I’ve got that flock of yo’r haLr ggs yo’ sent me, and I’m goin’_ to keep' ilt, and I will have yo’ for my sweet- ;hegrp, as yo’ asked me.” ‘ Dfék 3” "I did,” he cried ferventfly. “How can yo: _dm_1bt‘it, Sglgly 8” -- Dick hesitate” had he fill that mornmg se eyes upon the girl, but he resolved to lie boldly like a. man. “And when did yo’ first see me I" in- quired Sally. This was a puzzler. Dick cast about. in his mind for a suitable occasion. “I see yo’ last churnin’ day,” he re- marked, gazing straight before him with a retrospective air. “The last churnin’ day which ever was, and 370' were walkin’ across fro’ th’ shippon wi’ yo’r ail- or summat in yo’r hand, and the eet shone on yo’r hair, and I thought to myself as I had never seen sech bonny hair before.” “Did yo’?” said Sally, much pleased. “But,” as a sudden thought struck her, "however did yo’ see my hair, Dick? I al'lus weer my bonnet, yo’ know, i' th' mornin’, and it covers my head, face and all, till theer's nowt to be seen.” Dick reflected for a moment. “Ah, but the wind blew it off a min- uteâ€"dunnot yo' mind the wind blew. it off f” i “I’m noan that Ifiak’ 0’ wength," she mried energeticaldy. “I never‘glve ony- ibody a. lock of hair in my life; and 3-3 ifor axin’ yo’ to be my sweetheart, L awouid not do sech a thing if theer was inever another mon if th’ world.” I on his ear. ifi _-~- “I dunnot remember,” said Sally, with! a. puzzled look. But Dick clinched the matter by remarking that if the wind had not blown off her bonnet, he could not have noticed her hair,afa.ct which was obviously conclusive. “It is bonny hair, Sally,” pursued Dick, with a meaning air. Sally blushed. “Ay, it’s bonny hair,” re- peated Dick. "A man ’ud be very pleasgd to get a_bit of thotflhair, Sally}: “Like yo’r impudenoe,” remarked Sally, with a toss of her head. Dick felt; a Little imitated. \Vhy could not she. own at Oince that she had been temp ted into an indiscretion which he ofp all men poufld regard leniently? v V hair 3’" “Never, ” responded Sally, with de cision. "Coom, once inaway yo’ do, dunnot 5'0”?” But Sally only shook err head. . “I know a men,” said Dick, staring at her fixedly," “as has gotabit,a10ve1y‘ bit, and keeps it locked" at). and kisses it often.” . Sa'IJy’s face flamed. “Yo’ know newt of the kind,” she re- sponded with great asperity. “1’11: noanset here any more ifyo' tehl seeh) . Saltly sprang to her feet, and tquck’St unmense surprise answered tlus dec-a larzghon by bestowgng a soundipg hex.- E “Well. I dumnot mind keeping 000m- :pany wi’ yo’ to see how we get on," 1 she said hesitating‘ly, after a moment’s ipause, “but I gannot. think Whoever gsent yo‘ that ham” I (To be Continued) Dick rose to his feet, astonished and irate. “Didn’ t yo’ send me th-ot parcel last neet, then ?” he asked. “I know it’s yo'r hair, and yo’ mun know What was wrote inside.” “\Vhat was it 2” cried Sally wrath- fullv, but impressed, in spite of herself, by his manner. I am young and I am bonny, I am tender, I am true; , Ifflyqu’lil have me for your sweetheart. repeated Dick, with great unction and precision. “Theer, th-ot’s plain enough. isn’t it? and the hair was jest the same as yo’rsâ€"beautifud hair, like gold, and soft as downa I will swear it I’ll' have you. is yo’rs. There is not another lass as eager I see as "has ‘hair the same as t otfl Sally sat staring at ‘him, with yound, dilated eyes, the color mantlmg m her cheeks, an irrepressilfle simper hover- ing abqut_:her [@0111ng _ ___ _ I 1 .1 I. _ ‘_ - “VVeIl, I really didn’t send it,” she said, in tones which did not admit of doubt. “I truly didn’t. Soombry mun ha’ played us a trick. \Vhy, I never could ha.’ been so bowd as‘ to send yo’ each a message as tho .” “\Vhy not?" said Dick gallantly. “It is true enough. Yo’re young, yo’ know, and bonny, and I am sure yo’ll be ten- der and true. \Vell, then, Why could not us be sweethearts?" _ In a certain sense elephants are still !stews, Kiley nave used in battle by Indian troops, but they - - - .-..._... are only used as beasts of burden and EXPRESS?! drought for artillery; but years. ago 69 __ ”they were usgil in the Easths flgbt- mag: 32:; did :ing..,anlma‘rs. and. taugh‘. Waving chews {Ammanâ€"Ho: :faad;i.-hars-of metal-m 11‘ *tmnks , ' terS, Mr. Piply? ".Dun yo’ 'often gi’ foiks locks of ’9 UTILITY OF THE ELEPHANT. a»! . '3. “.3; for ~ this is chang‘.‘ grown in cold cellars, a \ lars must be cold. An authority on gardening, and w word is not to be disputed, says 9 is absolutely nothing to hinder} growth of mushrooms in cellars1 t,fhet for his part, he thinks it 18 a,“ excellent idea indeed. The air mu: dry in the cellar, and the tempera on no account allowed to fall belo degrees. “I grew a fine crop of mushir in my cellar last winter,” says au'tlhlority. “ Out of a bed 25 feet by 4 feet wide, I picked between 100 pounds of“ the finest m weighing them after the st cut off. The bed was made ‘ . 27th" of November. This house was ke very dryâ€"that is to say, no water was allowed to spill bn the floor while we}: \VERE \VATERING THE BED. ‘ “ Beds in the cellar do not need ai great deal of water. I only watered mine after each top dressing, but when I did water it I gave it a good dose, using fine spray for the purpose. If the cellar is large a good way to do is to! put a load of hot fertilizer on the floor, R ‘ I for this raises a nice moist heat. Next winter Imcan to keep a load of it on the floor of my cellar all the time, re- newing it as this heat declines. In cold cellars very little air is needed. before the warm days of spring come. Then I give plenty of it. If the fertilizer be- comes too dry for making the beds in the cellar, don’t be afraid to put the hose on it, as fertilizer is not nearlv as good dry as ,noiSt. I always give each barrelful of fertilizer a pail of water and this seems to make it right. 'Be sure when you pick a crop to pick :it clean. If there are any dead mushâ€" rooms pick them out by the roots, then top-dress the _bed.’i Mushrooms bear no relation whatever to fish, but in a virgin state they have the same name as the tiny fellows that fill the tanks at the fish hatcheries. A ihos-t of people over in England, and! lFrance make their living by produc-, ling the mushroom spawn, and large‘ lquantities are imported to the United lStates every year. The web fringe var- i I iety is mostly found in the woods, where l lit grows from or about stumps of de- Icaying roots in the ground. Frequent.-l lly great clusters protrude‘from around l lt‘he base of posts. There are several’ species of the web fringe. Their capst I are from one to six inches across. They l hare showy and easily recognized. Inl ,substance they are *solid, and white or i [yellowish in color, The wise man ori {woman will. cut the caps to pieces af-; gter washing and stew or bake with ibread. crumbs for 'half an hour. \Vhen ’thlS 1s done and the result thereof isl seasoned and a little lemon juice is add- ied, or sherry or Madeira, there is a gfeast fit for the gods. This is one of; itzhe sort of mushrooms that will flourish l l in the cold cellar of the follower of fash- j ion. g Then there is the variety with a long % gname, the coprinarii. They are as ten- 5 gder and teothsome as a tenderloini lsteak. Another variety is the little! thrown capped, slender stem coprinusl imicaceusâ€"tihat is all the name it has; iâ€"xvthose tops frequently glisten as ifi l i l l l 1 l ! 'sprinkled with. fine mica. This is a gem, too. It makes a rich! black dish lafter 10 minutes’ stewing, The maned mushroom is often eaten under the name of truffle, and it, too, can be made a product of the cold cellar, down m lth‘e depths of the society mansion. Those who have eaten them most say that no cheaper or more effectual spree I is by nature provided. Other varieâ€" ties t-h‘at can be grown in the cellar l are the mushrooms of the order of hydâ€" lnei, as the producers call them. They :‘have teeth-like protuberances upon Iwhich the mushroom caps are born., Then, there are the polyorei, those good old Greek fellows. The man or woman I whese mind is bent on a cellar bed of l mushrooms should never forget the ole-'1 varerei. 'Iihéis is an odd variety of‘ mushroom-in appearance, for it branches out like deer lhiorns. The ind1v1dual- ity is very clear, for nothing else that grows could look like it. And as for stews. they have no superior. ~ This is advice that the fashionable person Wit‘h’ a cellar may take to heart and know that he or she has the know- ledge necessary to become thoroughly in keeping with the latest style. Com- paratively few people realize what an art there is in growing mushrooms, in bringing them to the right condition and thoroughly ready for the skillful hands of the chef. In the first place, to raise mushrooms it is necessary to se- cure Whéat is x New boarder~Not more than a dozen . the dish and well mangled. ’ Landlad'Vj-f-qugvdo you hke year oysâ€" EXPRESSTNG HIS‘; CHOICE KNOWN AS SPAWN. easv an \Vhat’ ll shie’s g me 1. on t1m9\_1’;1 rave easy andfim‘r \Vhat'll. :ffer for ficiently the. pa]e . "It's be‘ ‘- we’ll. call ,j- \‘ Whisky Wi _. ‘thls..an catcher mi agamst II} home to-n‘g she . ed the tra: ;. train and “hit . d trestle. You: ma, cqnsl er against youfi ma 0”. M ’ The leg bones are very hard A ‘ for landles f and afirue, n}??- Lable cutle The tail artd mane are espemii awe and from these are made alotlh of conmeme. l The ribs d head are burned bone blaokIafter they have be: ed for the me that is in them The phosfihate of lime, acted sulphuric acid. and calcined}; hon, produces phqsph‘flt matchsp‘iu. , ‘ ' ,. ' ’ The short hair tlken from is used to Stuff cushicm and ”i lars, thus the. dead are made to the comfnrt of the 1i vnga, The hide furnishes a. watel er known tn the trade as 00 is used for the manufactu class hunting: and xyaQing_. The bones; to make. glue; are}: in muriatir acid, which takeSfi. shpaite of lime awav. the “91% re awning the Shape of the ‘ and dried on netél “'. The ene: gy of English _ shows itseif in all classes _ people, from the peer to An 111. Man of the Crimean;- tinned by Mr. Hawthhgjdngn; t0 his family, illust I. :2". act of thi British [160919 m ‘3 the so] “G‘s has struck magi and .touch? ng as that of #4 g. Cl‘lmlnazss 4,1 an instltntwn’ if? They \quzed t0 r-onmhy to the. Pi: riotic Fund they 901131 do it W38 fromS lay night till mg, the gate nothing savedâ€"t 88 pounds and f 5;; to tfihe .~..d Precious ‘ ' The G-Penlanders know a iWO. It the heiief that "3.: find its-am: anywhere” ting living 15;? in the same '8'1‘8‘55 dead clihi. The 06min 1539:“ be 1138C in] ihe Child 33 a gal g are" ._. swamp; BUfiIAL . Cw 3k} PATRIOTIC FASTINGZ