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ST. HELENS, COLUMBIA COUNTY, OREGON, JUNE 23, 1882.
VOL. II.
NO. 46.
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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,
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