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About The Columbian. (St. Helens, Columbia County, Or.) 1880-1886 | View Entire Issue (June 23, 1882)
- -,. -rrZ ' ..." 1 ' f 'f " ! j - " f I A i I 1! ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY, OREGON, JUNE 23, 1882. VOL. II. NO. 46. ! j npxj ! ! , I . i : '. i i i - i j I J J 1 Si ii I f t I a1! "J. it it " t SI I i? S ' - t ? TJiE OLD MAX OF FORTY. "Oulj' one more week, ami then wo shall reach home," said Kitty Howell, as she threw herself tlown on a sofa in the little tavern. "TireJ of travel. Kitty?" asked her father. T Am tirtl of railroad ears and hotels at anv rate." "I was thinking of staying here a few weeks." "Here?" Kitty sat bolt upright in the excess of her astonishment "Not in the tavern. You like stories, Kitty. Come here, and I will tell you one." Tossing aside her bonnet and sacqne Kitty comolied with the request, and while her father softly stroked her long hair he said: "When I was in college. Kitty. I had a room mate, to whom I was warmly at tached. He was a shy, silent young man, very studious, rather good looking, and with a love of quaint books and pur suits. My dear, to make a long story short, we both fell in love, and, unfortu natelv. with the same woman. Me was so nuiet. so reserved, while I was so hot beaded that I never dreamed of his passion till I told him I was an ac cented lover, and then his secret came out." "Ttwiis nainfnllome to be the rival of mv warmest friend." continued Mr Howell, "but your mother loved me and did not dream of Walter's vas3ion. and he begged me to keep his secret. He left college to return home and w3 did not meet again. When you were born he wrote ma a congratulatory letter, ana two years later, when I lost your mother be wote asain. but that was all. very rich he has never had any business or profession, but lives a bacneior in ms sliv. nniet wav. To-dav I met him; he resides near here; and he begged me pass a few weeks with him." "How old is he?" to "L,et me see Walter was nearly two years mv junior: he must be about for ty. How time rlies! Well, Kitty, shall we pay the visits?" "I suppose we must." "How etupid!" soliloquized Kitty, drummiug impatiently at the window mne. "An old man of forty in a coun try town. It's October, too, and I haven't a thine fit to wear this . v- , winter. I wonder how long papa will stav. Mv first winter in society, and auntv promised an unlimited amount of parties." - Things looked brighter the next morn ing, for the drive to .Mr. boule s resi dence was through a lovely part of the countrv, and when they .stopped Kitty could not repress an exclamation of de licht. The house, a large, beautifully built marble mansion, was nestled at the end of an avenue of tall trees, and at the base of a wooded hill which rose behind it. On the porch stood their host, still a very handsome man. "This is kind," he said, grasping Mr. Howell's hand, "and this " He stopped and looked at Kitty.saying softly; "Very like, very like. I am glad to see you, my dear child Kitty , in all her life, had never heard a sweeter, voice than the one that wel comed her4 and she followed the maid to her roomthinking the visit might not prove so great a bore, after all. lhe two gentlemen stood on the porch looking after her. "Kitty! You call her after her, then?" said Mr. Soule, in a low tone. "Yes; she is very like, is she not? "Exactly!" "Just the acre lb poor Kitty was when we were married. We are old boys now, Walter." Kitty was soon home at Clairmont. Now. in her pretty habit and hat scour ing over the country on horseback, or ridimr demurely behind her father throurrh the town: now knocking at the library door, where Mr. Soule spent most of the time, and under pretense of finding a book, winning her host from his studies to explain to her the shells on the library table. "Do I bother you very much by com ing in here ?" she said one day, looking j up from her low seat to the handsome face bending over her. "Bother me? No, dear, I am glad to have you. "I like to come in, it is so cosy and home-like: and do not be angry l! think that you stay here alone too much. You are so wise and good, why do you shut yonrself up iso , He made no answer,but his pale cheek Mlnshed and here the conversation stop ped. j They had been at Clairmont nearly six weeks when this conversation took place, anil Kitty had been the : object of the most tender care during all the time. But the pleasant visit was destined to come to & sudden end. That evening 1. ii i. l l 1 1 1. .. i. ir. c i .. i l made her an offer for marriage. "Why, he's old enough to be my grand father I" cried Kitty. "Not quite so bad as that, seeing that he is younger than I am. And he is very wealthy." ' "But you wouldn't have me marry for money?" "No, dear, but it's only right to tell you all the advantages. You have been happy here?" "Yea, but I can't marry that old man of forty. I'm sorry he asked me, for we must now go home." ' "Of course." That night Kitty went up stairs, feel ing as if she would like to cry. Still she rather prided herself upon rejecting the rich owner of Clairmont. Like oth er girls of her age, she had her dreams pf trUjO love, with a hero young and handsome, and perhaps poor. Yet Kit ty, in bpite of all this, cried herself to sleep. The parting next day was brief. But as Kitty stood on the steps, waiting for the trunks to be brought down, a hand fell gently on her shoulder, and Mr. Soule said kindly: "I'm sorry I pained you ; but remember, if you ever want a friend, call on me." Kitty burst into tears for reply and ran down the 6teps. In the. whirl and tumult of the gay winter Kitty looked in vain for her bean ideal. Of beaux there were plenty, for Mr. Howell was wealthy, and Kitty his only child; but no one was exactly what she wanted. She found herself contrast ing Mr. Soule with others: she missed hrs voice, his gentle, kind watchfulness, and she wondered if next summer her father would go to Clairmount Early in the spring an undo died, leaving Kitty a large fortune, let rest less, and at times sad, Kitty seemed to have left her girlhood behind her at Clairmont. "Dear, dear! This is bad!" said Mr. Howell, laying aside a letter one day at breakfast. "What, father?" "A cousin of Walter's has come home from India, and claims the property at Clairmont. Walter s uncle was a bach elor, at least they all thought so, and Walter succeeded as next of kiD; but here's a private marriage proved, and this cousin is the only child. Walter says that as the claim is just he will not go to law,but give up the property." "What, the house and all? Oh, father! How can he live away from all that he loves?" "He writes to me to know if I can get him anything to do." "He, so shy, so refined, so oh, father!" and Kitty burst into a flood of tears and ran away. Mr. Soule had left Clairmont to come to New York, had gone to an obscure hotel, and from there had written his ote to Mr.. Howell. He was sitting, silently waiting, when there came a knock at .the door, and Mr. Howell en tered, and with him Kittv. Before he could speak Kitty was beside him, and had grasped his hand in both of hers, laughing and crying all at once. xou will come home with us for give me I didn't know I loved you I will try to be a good wife, indeed I will and you must help me if I do wrong. We will be so happy!" and here she broke down in sobs. "My -wife you Kitty ?" was all the bewildered man could say. Mr. Howell persuaded the new heir to sell Clairxaont. and invested part of Kitty's money in the purchase; and it would be hard to say whicu was the hap pier in their beautiful house, the "old man of forty or his little wife. USEFUL RECIPES Puff Paste. One pound of flour, two eggs, a quarter of an ounce of salt. little water and two ounces of butter should be kneaded well together and spread with a rolling-pin. Divide four teen ounces of butter into seven parts, and spread one on the paste, folded over once and rolled process seven times. thin. Repeat this I old the paste over seven times, and roll thin. Repeat tnis last process ready for use. once, and the paste is Potato Sonftlee. Boil the potatoes and mash them fine; beat the whites and yelks of four or five eggs separately; mix them well with a cupful of rich milk or cream; stir two ounces of butter and a heaped-up teaspoonful of salt with the potatoes, and then beat up all together with the eggs and cream; put it. when thoroughly mixed, into a deep baking- dish, which has been thoroughly but tered, and bake in a quick oven for twenty minutes. Common soda is excellent for scouring tin, as it will not scratch the tin and will make it look like new. Apply with a piece of moistened newspaper and polish with a dry piece. Wood ashes are a good substitute. To Remove Old Paint. Take salsoda, t vo pounds; lime, one-fourth pound; hot water, one gallon; agitate all together and apply to old paint while warm. The mixture will soon loosen the paint so that you can easily remove it. The cracking of glue, which frequent ly occurs when glued objects become very dry or are subject to the heat of a stove, it is said, may be prevented by the addition of chloride of calcium to the glue, which prevents its drying so com pletely as to become brittle. Glue thus treated will adhere to glass, metals, etc., and can be employed for affixing lables to bottles. A Good Pudding. One pint of bread crumbs, quart of milk, one cupful of su gar, the grated peel of a lemon, yelks of four eggs, a piece of butter the size of an egg. iiaKe. Wnen done spread fresh strawberries over the top (or not in season for strawberries use a cupful of preserved raspberries) ; put over that a merringue made witu the white of an egg, a cupful of sugar and the lemon. Return it to color. Let it partly cool with rich cream. the juice of the oven to and serve it Custard with Sponge sponge cakes, moisten with Cake. Take sherry wine, place in a glass dish in which it is to be served. Boil in-a porcelain saucepan one quart of sweet milk with a little salt, stir one large spoonful of flour in a cup of cold water. When quite smooth stir into boiling milk; also the outside par ing of a lemon. Beat five eggs to a cream, add a cupful of sugar, beat well together. When well mixed, pour into the kettle of boiling milk and stir until it looks thick and creamy. When cool pour over the sponge cake. THE "JUHA8 ISCABIOT." "She formerly showed the name Fly ing Spirits on her stern mouldin," said Captain Trumbull Cram, "but I had thet gouged out and planed off, and Judas Iscariot in gilt sot thar instid." "That was an extraordinary name, said I. j " strornary craft, replied tue cap tain, as ue absorbed anotuer men and a half of niggerhead.! I'm neither a pro fane man or an irreverend ; but sink my jig if I don t believe the spemt of Judas possessed thet schooner. I ventured to inquire in what manner this vessel had manifested its depravity. The narrative which ; I heard told of a demon of treachery with three masts and a jibboom. The Flying Sprite was the first three- master ever built at Newaggen, and the last. People shook their heads over the experiment. "No good can come of seen a critter." they said.' "It's contrairy to natur. Two masts; is masts enough." THirt TiM vin or Snn'fo liooran its PdroAr nf base improbity at the very moment of its birth. Instead of launching decently into the element for which it was de signed, the three-masted schooner slumped through ! the ways into the mud and stuck there for three weeks, 'causing great ex peuse to the owners, of whom Captain Trumbull Cram was one to the extent of an undivided third. The oracles of Ne- waggen were confirmed in their forebod ings. "Two masts ;is masts enough, they said; "the third is the devil's hitch in post. j On the first voyage of the Flying Sprite. Captain Cram, started her for Philadelphia, loaded with ice belonging to himself and lawyer Swanton; cargo uninsured. Ice was worth six dollars a ton in Philadelphia; this particular ice had cost Captain Cram and Lawyer Swanton eighty-five i cents a ton, includ ing sawdust. They were happy over the prospect. The Flying Sprite cleared the port in beautiful shape, and then suddenly and silently went to the bot torn in Fiddler's Beach, in eleven feet of salt water. It required only six days to float her and pump her out, but ow ing to a certain incompatibility between ice and salt water, the salvage consisted exclusively of sawdust. On her next trip the schooner carried a deck load of lnmber from the St.Croix river. It was in some sense aconsecrat ed cargo, for the lumber was intended for the new Baptist j meeting house in southern New Jersey. If the praverful Mope of the navigators, combined with the prayerful expectations oi tne con signees had availed, tins voyage,at least, would have been successfully made. But about sixty miles southeast of Nantucket the Flying Sprite encountered a mild September gale. She ought to have weathered it with perfect ease, but she behaved so abominably that the church lumber was scattered over the surface of the Atlantic ocean from about latitude 45 deg. 15 min. to latitude 43 deg. 50 min. A month or two later she con trived to go on her beam ends under a gentle land breeze, dumping a lot of ex pensively carved granite from the Fox Island quarries into a deep hole in Long Island Sound. On her next trip she went,deliberately out of her course in order to smash the starboard bow of a Norwegian brig, and was consequently, libeled for heavy damages. It was after a' few experiences of sort that Captain Cram erased the name from the schooner's stern, from her quarter, and substituted this old and Ju- das Iscariot. She seemed animated with the spirit of purposeless malice and of malignant perfidy. She tub of cussedness. was a floating A board of nautical experts sat upon the Judas Iscariot, but could find noth ing the matter with her, physically. The lines of her hull were all right, she was properly planked, and ceiled.and calked, her spars were of good Oregon xine, she was rigged taut and trustworthy, and her canvas had been cut ! and stiched by a God-fearing sailmaker. Yet she always did the unexpected thing, except when bad bahavior was expected of her on general principles. If the idea was to luff, she would invariably fall off: if to jibe, she would oome round dead in the wind, and hang there like Mohammed s coffin. Sending a man to haul the jib sheet was like sending a man on a for lorn hope; the jib habitually picked up the ventursome navigater; and, after shaking him viciously in the air for a second or two, tossed him overboard. A boom never crossed the deck without breaking somebody's j head. Start on whatever course she mignt, the schooner was certain to run, before long, into one of three things, namely, some other ves sel, a fog-bank, or the bottom. From tne very day on which she was launched her scent for a good, sticky mud bottom was un erring. In the clearest weather fog fol lowed and enveloped her as misfortune followed wickedness, j Her presence on the banks was enough to drive every cod fish to the coast of Ireland. The mack erel and porgies were always where the Judas Iscariot was not. It was impossi ble to circumvent the schooner's fixed purpose to ruin everybody who char tered her. If chartered to carry a deck load, she spilled it: if loaded between decks, she dived and spoiled the cargo. In short, the Judas Iscariot was known from Marblehead to the Bay of Chaleur as the consummate schooneration of malevolence, turpitude, and treachery. Nearly at the end of a season, when the wretched craft had been even more un profitable than usual, a conference of the owners was held in the Congrega tional vestry one evening, after the monthly missionary meeting. No out sider knows exactly what happened. On the forenoon of the ! next Friday there was a general suspension of business at Newaggen. The Judas Iscariot, with her deck scoured and hor spars scraped till they shone in the sun like yellow am ber, lay at the wharf by Captain Cram's fish-house. This time her cargo was an extraordinary one. It consisted of nearly a quarter of a mile of stone-wall from the boundaries of the captain's shore pasture. ."I calklet," remarked the commander of the J udas Iscariot, as he saw the last boulder' disappearing down the main .hatch, "thar's nigh two hundred'n fifty ton of stone-fence aboard thet schooner." Conjecture was wasted over this un necessary amount of ballast. The own ers of the Judas Iscariot stood up well under, tha oqnsolidated wit of the village; they returned witticism for witticism, and kept their secret. "Ef you must know, I'll tell ye," said the captain. "I hear thar s a stone-wall famine over Machias way. I'm going to take mine over'n peddle it out by the yard." On this fine sunshiny Friday morning, while the luckless schooner lay on one side of the "wharf, looking as bright, and trim, and prosperous as if she were the best- pj"ts maritime investment in the world, the tug Pug of Portland lay un der the other side, with steam up. She had come down the night before in re sponse to a telegram from the owners of the Judas Iscariot. A good land breeze was blowing, with the promise of fresh ening as the day grew older. , At half past seven o clock the schooner put off from the landing, carrying not only the captain's pasture wall, but also a large number of his neighbors and friends, including some of the solidest citizens of Newaggen. Curiosity was stronger than fear. "You all know what the critter air, the captain had said, in reply to numerous applications for passage. "Ef you're a mind to resk her antics, come along, an welcome." Never had tne Judas Iscariot carried such a load. She seemed suddenly struck with a sense of decency and re sponsibility, for she came around into the wind without balking, dived her nose playfully into the brine, and skip ped off on the short hitch to clear Tum bler Island, all in the most proper fash ion. The Pug steamed after her. The crowd on the wharf and the boys in the small boats cheered this unex pectedly orthodox behavior, and they now saw for the hrst time that Captain Cram had painted on the side of the ves sel in conspicuous white letters, each three or four foet long, the following legend: . I THI8 13 THE SCHOONER JUDA8 ISCARIOT. N. B GIVE HER A WIDE BERTH ! ! i Hour after hour the schooner bound ed along before the northwest wind, holding to her course as straight as an arrrow. 'lhe weather continued fine. Every time the captain threw the log he looked more perplexed. Eight, nine, nine-and-a half knots! Ho) shook his head as he whispered to Deacon Plympton: "She's meditatin mischief o' some natur' or other." But the 'Judas led the Pug a wonderful chase, and by half-past two in the afternoon, and be fore the demijohn which Andrew Jack- sons son Tobias had smuggled on board was three-quarters empty, and before Lawyer Swanton had more than three- quarters finished his celebrated story about Governor Purington's cork leg. the schooner and the tug were between fifty and sixty miles from land. Suddenly Captain Cram gave a grunt of intelligence. Be pointed ahead, where a blue line just above the horizon marked a distant fog-bank. "She smelt it, an' bud iuu lui xv, uoicwaincuav;utcuuuuBa ly. "Time for business." Then ensued a singular ceremony. First Captain Cram brought the schooner to, and transferred all his passengers to the tug. The wind had shifted to the southeast, and the fog was rapidly ap proaching. The sails of the Judas Iscar iot flapped as she lay head to the wind ; her bows rose and fell gently under the influence of the long swell. The Pug bobbed up and down half a hawser's length away. Having put his guests and crew aboard the tug. Captain Cram proceeded to make eyerything ship-shape on the decks of the schooner. He neatly coiled a loose end of rope that had been left in a snarl. He even picked up and threw overboard the stopper of Andrew Jack son's Tobias's demijohn. His face wore an expression of unusual solemnity. The people on the tug watched his move- ments eagerly but silently. Next he tied one end of a short rope to the wheel, and attached the other end loose ly, by means of a running bowline, to a cleat upon the rail. Then he was seen to take up an ax, and to disappear down the companionway. Those on the tug distinctly beard several crashing blows. In a moment the cajitain reappeared on deck, walked deliberately to the wheel, brought the schooner around so that her sails filled, pulled the running bowline taut, and fastened the rope with several half hitches around the cleat, thus lash ing the helm, jumped into a dory, and sculled over to the tug. Left entirely to herself, the schooner rolled once or twice, tossed a few buck etsful of water over her dancing bows, aud started off toward the South At lantic. But Captain Trumbull Cram, standing on the bow of the tugboat, raised his hand to command silence, and pronoanced the following farewell speech, being sentence, death warrant, and funeral oration, all in one: "I ain't advancin' no theory to 'count for her eussedness. You all know the Judas. Mebbe thar was too much fore an aff to her. Mebbe the inickerty of a vessel's in the fore an' aff, and the var tue in the squar' riggin'. Mebbe two mast' was masts enough. Let that go; bygones is bygones. There's a hole, good two foot aerost, stove in her belly, and unless . Oh.yer makin' straight for the fog, are ye ? Well, its your last fog bank. The bottom of the sea's the fust port you'll fetch, you critter, you. Git, and be d d to ye !' Meanwhile the fog had shut in around the tug, and the Judas Iscariot was lost to view. The tug was put about and headed for home. The damp wind chilled everybody through and through. Little was said. The contents of the demijohn "had long been exhausted. From a distance to the south was heard at intervals the hoarse whistling' of an ocean steamer. "I hope that feller's well underwrit," said the captain, grimly, "for the Judas '11 never go down afore she's sarched him out'n sunk him." "And was the abandoned schooner ever heard of ?" I asked, when my in formant had reached this point in the narrative. The captain took me by the arm, and led me out of the grocery store down to the rocks. Across the mouth of the small cove back of his house, blocking iue entrance to uis wnsri and nsn-honse. was stretched a skeleton wreck. "Thar she lays," he said, pointing to the blackened ribs. "That's the Judas. Did yer suppose she'd sink in deep wa ter, where she could do no more dam age ? No, sir; not if all the rocks on the coast of Maine was piled onto her, and her hr.U bottom knocked clean out. She come home to roost. She come sixty miles in the teeth of the wind. When the tug got back next mornin' thar lay the J udas Iscariot acrost my cove, with her jibboom stuck through my kitchen winder. I say schooners has souls." New York Sun. Frnlt Farming hj Women. The fruit farm is near Fresno City, California. The ladies owning it and working it are four in number, all teachers. Two of them are resident owners, the other two are still teaching in San Francisco. Of the two residing there upon the farm and assisting in the actual labor of the place, one was prin cipal of a ladies' seminary, the other at one time holding a professor's chair in a college in Kansas, and for many months associated with me in Maple wood Seminary. Both these ladies sought their present occupation as a rest from the wear and tear of school life. They all find it health-giving and de lightful. When I allow my friend to tell her story you may judge with what profit to the pocket they tickle Dame Nature. She writes: "We have a corporate farm of eighty acres all devoted to fruit raising, part of it bearing and part not yet old enough, therefore the returns are but partial, while the larger part is in anticipation. Of these eighty acres, forty are in grapes, about fifteen are in bearing, five acres of apricots, a small part of which bear now, but as this is a fruit grown only in favored localities, and is in great de mand, it i a profitable fruit to raise; five acres of peaches, which grow rapid ly, bear early and heavily; in great de mand for canning; two acres of necta rines, a very delicious fruit related to the peach; this promises well and is a great favorite; two acres of Bartlett pears, the very perfection of excellence anywhere, but especially so in this cli mate; six acres of prunes, French vari ety; these do well. We have also an as sorted orchard of apples, plums, quinces and cherries for our own use. The small fruits are not well adapted to this climate, on account of the heat, but as our trees grow to shade them we ex pect a good supply of varieties of berries. "I almost forgot to mention two acres of almonds, from which we gathered forty pounds the first year, and four hundred the second year they bore. lhe original cost of this eighty acres was ??,uuu. mere is now sid.uuu in f m d.sr rw A. V s- t y-V vested, including all I have mentioned, also a bored well with windmill and a 10,000 gallon tank, a good bain, small dwelling house, a house for packing raisins, chicken houses, and some rough outuuiidings occupied by the man. With age added to our vines and trees, we anticipate a handsome remuneration. We find a ready market for all our fruit, and our raisins have already won a good reputation. Ten tons is our largest yield yet. "Labor, unskilled, is high in this part of Califo nia. We average three men all the time. Miss A. and myself spend the greater part of fruitage time among trees and vines, and the pruning knife has become our badges of honor. Or pha C. Dinsmoor, in Western Woman's Journal. I ; A Turkish Romance. The death of the Sultan's young sister recently at Constantinople has caused a great sensa tion, especially as it is believed that the young Sultana died of a malady which probably oftener kills than coarse- minded people suppose. The Princess Naibe issvid to have fallen in love at first sight with Sadyk Bey, a young Turk she met at sweet waters, the usual prom enade of Ottoman ladies. On his side, Sadyk fell also desperately in love with the Princess. Seven months ago the Sultan gave his sister in marriace to Mehemed Bey, and the girl had not the courage to tell her brother how deeply her affections were engaged. Had she done so, it might not have been a fatal passion, for the Sultan loved his sister tenderly, and Sadyk was a gentleman. When the despairing lover heard of the marriage he resolved to end his days. But before killing himself he wrote a farwell to the Princess, who fell ill, and in a few weeks died. To chop suet, sprinkle flour over it while chopping, which will prevent the pieces from adhering. Mjiterlons Stranger. "Hi, Jimmy dere's one o' dem fellers." ! The two newsboys clutched their pa pers closer as a' tall, gaunt individual in an ulster that was included in his ticket came ranging along Montgomery street, his eyes sharply taking, in the whole thoroughfare. As -his eye rested on the boys they timidly drew into the shadow, and a hackman on the corner who had never seen them "fazed" be fore, looked on and wondered. The man squared up in front of them, pre venting their escape. Then he said in a dry, baked-beans voice, intended to be winning: ' j "What paper is that, sonny ?'. "Igezwmer" said the bor. with a fourth-act frown. I "How much do you charge for them ?" "Fi' cents." i I "You look like a good, honest little boy. Lem 'me see one if it's this morn ing's?" j "Naw yer dont" (frowning deeper.) "Just j lem' me look at it a second. I only want to see the overland passengers. Come, I'll give; you this," and he drew an orange (included in the ticket) from I nis overcoat. ; "T. T. I et ten orringes fur break fast. j "There's one of them that's dirty. Yon couldn't sell that for full price, could ye?" i "Dere's o'ny J one price in dis shop, dirty or no dirty." jThe stranger, with knit brows, drew an iron purse from i his pocket, and raising its portcullis, fished for a moment in the donjon keep and drew forth a coin. It had been a five cent piece, but there was a wild, despairing look on the Goddess of Liberty's face, and she had been nqueezed down into the surface of the coin. A faint cry came from her as the man held her a moment. Then he passed the coin to the boy, who, awe-struck and wondering, looked it carefully over with out finding it counterfeit or perforated. The stranger took the best paper in the lot and then walked away. The boy stared at him, still dumbfounded. Then he said, in solemn italics: "Oh, Jim; 1 did sell one o' dem fellers a paper." , "Who is he?" ' "A Boston toweri8t." Dutj of Best. There is a false idea prevalent about resting enough in the few weeks of the summer to last the year. However full of delight and peace the lazy hours in the country, however freighted with rest and strength the long days by the sea, we cannot hoard and carry away enough of the precious store. Every twenty-four hours is a circle of its own in which to tear down and build up, and whatever is spent between one sun down and another must be made good irom food, recreation and rest, and who ever commences the morning already tired is spending too much somewhere, and will find that a system of paying natnre's past debts by drawing on the future will make him bankrupt. But we do not need to wait till in the f all ness of time we can join the throng at watering places. I To any one, unless shut up between ! four brick walls, if there belong a green spot somewhere round the ;house, if he can sit under one vine and fig tree of his own, there is at hand a perennial spring, if he but knows how to drink of it. Perhaps you say "I cannot stop to rest; I have no time; I will by and by, but now I must do! my work." Ahl but are you sure of yoir by and by? the one this side of eternity I mean! Are you not doing the very thing now that may loose it for 3'ou or if entered upon, will it not, instead of being spent in rest, as you fondly hoped, be spent rather in vain regrets (or the strength so unwisely and hopelessly lost? Moreover, what is this work nn mijst be constantly doing? If to do good u your ruling motive, nave you not lea rned that it is what you are as well as what you do that blesses the world? anc though the toil of your hands is wo th much, a beautiful spirit of good chc er surrounding you is worth more, and you are not becoming the best you miht be if you have no time to enter tain this spirit of rest and strength which cannot live with weariness. Life Duties. My home is where I can do the most good raise up the fallen, protect the oppressed, and thus honor the Master. My labor is more for the world than for myself. My duty is the performance of any good act that be per formed at auy time consistent with a proper care of health while no act or dinarily demands the sacrifice of health. My friends nre those who acknowledge moral obligations', who live for what they can do and not for what they oan enjoy. My love of mortals I waa. placed here for. some good purpose will continue till I am called hence, and then I hope to be willing to go. Any hard steel tool will cut glass with great facility when kept freely wet with camphor dissolved in turpentine. A drill bow may be used, or even the hand alone. A hole bored may be readily en larged by a round file. The ragged edges of glass vessels may also be thus easily smoothed by a flat file. Flat win dow glass can readily be sawed by a watch spring saw, by the aid of this so lution. In short, the most brittle glass can be wrought almost as easily as brass by jthe use of cutting tools kept con stantly moist with camphorized oil of turpentine. j MThe doctor's been here, Michael, and he says ye're to put some hot wahter in a tumbler, with a little sugar and lemon and fill up the tumbler with whisky, and if I won't take it ye're to make me. Oh, the horrible cure j entoirely." "Never fear, Biddy, I'll show yiz the way, ' . i if .1 ill f : v -I- m 3 i -'-1 i-