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2, BntioMi Wtlna ud Uom tobepubikM akmld b« writUn «■ Mnant* abMl olearly indicated icqnirad. __T S. Articica (or paUkalkM aboold bo written ia a dear, legible hand, aad on only one side of the page. 4, All ebaagea in advertisementi mart rack asoa Priadr. WE ARE SEVEN. A. simple child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its Kfe la every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl: She was eight yean old she said) Her hair was thick with many a carl Hut clustered round her head. 'f - ■ a . She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; tier eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad, “Sisters and brothers, little auid. How man; may you be?" “How many ? Seven in all,’' she said, And, wondering, looked at me. , ‘And where are they ? I pray you telL" She answered, “Seven are we; - And two of us at Conway dweS,"' And two are gone to sea. “Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the church-yard cottage, Dwell near them with my mother." • “Von say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea, Vet ye arc seven!—I pray you tell, Sweet maid, how this may be.” Thru did the little maid reply, “Seven boys and girls ere we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree." ‘ You run about, my little maid. Your limbs they »re ,live; If two are in the chnrch-yard laid, tn ye are only five." “Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid rep ied, “Twelve step* or more from my mother’s door, A.id they are side by side._ “My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit— I sit and sing to them. “And often after rnnset. sir, When it is light and fair, 1 take my little [sirringer, And eat my supper there. “The first that died was little Jane: In bed she moaning lay, “Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away. ‘do in Uicchurch-yard she was laid, And, when the grass was dry. Together ipund her grate we played, My brother John and 1. “And when the gn und was white with snow And I could run and slide, Xly brother John was forced to gc, - And he lies by her side." “How many are you, then,” said I, • If they two are in heaven?” The little maiden did reply, •‘0 master! we are seven." - But they are dead; thoeetwo are dead ! Their spirita are in heaven 1" twas throwing words away; for stilt The little maid would have her iHU, -And say, “Nay, w* a e seven !" — WordtworUi. MY INVALID SISTER/ A STORY OF DOMESTIC LIFE. My sister Margaret-had been a aad suflerer for many years. All that broth- nly love could do to restore her shat-' b red health ftfid spirits was faithfully and cheerfully done. For the last eight- ^\cen months Margaret had been my only l^ortre, for my wife End child had died in one week, leaving-ma dependent on this bow we torn away from truly Christian sister for the sympathy and consolation Which her own sorrows taugbt.her so well how to bestow. We both longed for quiet and repose, for neither could mingle with the gaye- tle.i of the town, and Margaret's health own; we do not suffer less BARNWELL. C. H., S. C., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 27. 1883. •2 a Year. imi>eratively pointed to the country. To the country, therefore, we went and had the good fortune to get settled in a pretty and wplbfnnvUhed ootlage, - near a rail- way station south of the Thames. a dearly beloved schoolmate of my own, and who had once touched and inter ested the sensitive heart of Margaret, but that was long, long ago; and after many struggles with her affection, Mar garet had given him up, from the con viction that her life was so precarious that the ha l no right to throw its frsil burden on one who was just starting in the battle with the world. I now learned that this feeble child had lived for him—ehe had lived; but what a life ! It wae like shutting oat every ray of sunlight from her heart yyhen she gave him up. And Albert, his bright, glad face, beaming all over with health And animation, and giv ing promiae of a long ''life, had gone down to the grave, and this poor girl, struggling with weakness and pain, waa left “ I trail frightened that night at the in tensity of her grief. She was so weak that I feared that any additional trouble would soon deprive her of reason. Gradually I soothed Iber by talking of him, and leading her to relate her re newed connection with him. She told me that although she bad refused to marry him, she had yielded to his ear nest wish of corresponding with him, and that she hud thus kept up that cor respondence through the many years that separated them. There was linger ing hope in bis heart that they would yet aee brighter days; but in -her, never, until this summer had so invigorated her in health and spirits. Albert had eagerly noticed this, and in the letter which she had last received, had de- elared his intention of coming to see oa. “Why did you not tell me?” I asked, almost reproachfully. “Because I knew that, although you would have disguised your feelings for my sake, yon would have dreaded the separation; and, beside, I could not have the heart to anticipate any happi ness for myself when you were so deso late.” “Dear sister,” I exclaimed, struck at her self-sacrificing spirit, “It would have been my highest joy to have seen you Albert Thornton’s wife; and as to the separation, I am not so wedded to Eng land that I could not have followed yon elsewhere." I knew that Margaret often had re ceived letters from France, bat supposed them to be from a lady whose marriage had compelled her residence there, and who, I supposed, still kept np her cor respondence. Once I had even said, when handing her a letter, “How much Mary Raymond’s husband writes like Albert Thornton t” It was a passing re mark, and she went out of the room to read her letter, and I never thought of H again. In onr young days Margaret wished me to love Mary Raymond; and now we rarely spoke of her, because I felt that I-hstf disappointed my sister in not fancying her favorite. I did not attempt to console Margaret I knew too well, from my own experi ence, how little even the dearest friend can do, except to utter the common place and stereotyped words of conso lation, and how little those words avail to reach the mourner’s heart; how cold ly come the voices of sympathy while that heart is bleeding inwardly, and all, with the feeling that it “knoweth its ojrn bitter- ness,'” and must not be intermeddled with, by even..a brother or sister. That sorrow has pressed heavily upon other hearts before, does not lighten onr because an other has also suffered; and, feeling this, I would not bring np to my suiter’s We liked the pretty, quiet collage; rat's grief subsided; and as it had been newly furnished the year before, we had nothing to do but literally walk in and take poesession, tnd soon we felt as mnch at home as they who had “loet the poetry of life” coaid be expected to feel. To Margaret, it was my doty, as well as my privilege, - to supply the place of other relatives; and from her I received all the kind offi ces which the enfeebled state of her health permitted her to bestow upon me. It was delightful to watch her improve- nent She did not regain her youthful appearance, for the roses were feone for ever; bat she grew stronger and better, which neither of us ever knew before. We were very peaceful Happiness was oat of the question—at least, happi ness in the most comprehensive mean ing of the word. The mourning for the departed had not yeit gone from onr hearts, although time had softened and meJlawvxl it down to pensive melancholy, as sweet as it waa aad, I returned one evening earlier than was my wont, and found all things await ing my oomfort as usual; but Margaret was weeping over a newspaper in the parlor, away from her aoonstomed seat I knew of no intelligence -that could affect her in Oat way. ^ Our with the, outer warid’ were very md tbey^rEoclaimed relationship with os w«n already amaoved by deaths or by aipott hn—rantila distance;/and at these last we had lost nearly ’laaid, “what is it? What ; yon thus?” to a paragraph in the I covered bar pale face I followed the diraatfc* the dinth af Albart Thornton. elation. In a few days, the violence, of Marga- bnt her former lan guor had returned. I expected to see her dreop and fade away daily before my eyes, and almost dreaded to return home at night, leet I should find her ly ing upon the bed from which she might never arise. , It was altogether a sad ep isode in our peaceful summer. There was one thing which uncon sciously cheered me in thu| boor of trial. Our near neighbors, the Leightons, con trary to our intention of making ac quaintances, had forced themselves upon os, although in a perfectly delicate way. They had noticed my sister’s feebleness wbed we first came, and had watched from the sense of the delightful freedom her through the slight opening in the trees, as she passed from the door to her favorite seat; and they had begun the acquaintance by sending her baskets of delicious fruit, the first of their splendid flowers, and choice vegetables of every kind. Margaret ooulcL-only accept and ac knowledge, and the result was an in timacy with Flora Leighton, the only daughter of the family, whose manners completed the attraction which her beanty began; ao at least thought Mar garat, I haard much of Flora Leighton, and had some curiosity to see the being who had ao won upon Margaret, but the waa always out of sight before I came home, and I never, by any chance, had seen the bright eyea and pleasant smile which my sister had described to me. spiled bar the invisible; but I saw all her fairy gifts, which Margaret always left untouched until I came home .the; I might aee the perfect elegance her friend’* teste. It waa qatfe a study the artistic arrangamant of thoae i nlhripfi; and thtr jtargaiatwas fMrnlly «h«M hy ita tj>- propete* Mi fashioned the gift, remained, to me, in visible. . _ t , . ~ Margaret rose np from that great sol fering sooner than I had hoped or im agined. If she still mourned for A1 bert, it was in silence; and on her cheek there was no trace of tears when I camt 'home. _ I was engrossed with the carer of business throngh the day; but atil found time to think of her, and to rdjoic* that she had a companion such as sh« described Flora Leighton. She had told Flora all, and was startled, and pethaps gladdened by finding that she the daughter of Mrs. Thornton’s sister. Albert Thornton was therefore he playmate of Flora’s childhood, and befriend of her girlhood’s days. She too mourned his death with tfre sorrow of a tender heart that resembles those dear ones with an added love, “when ove is joined to deeth.” It was near the dose of summer. People were flocking home from the country, frightened at the first cool morning breeze; but Margaret begged for a longer stay, and I gladly consented. We had learned to love this qniet re treat, and any change struck us un pleasantly. The whole neighborhood around ns, too, had assumed a less star ing and comfortless appearance. • It had mellowed into an older and more snb- dned look; and others had followed onr example in beautifying and adorning their homes. The house occupied by Hr. Leighton wasprecisely like our own, and separated only by a slender fence, which the girls had not long suffered to remain. At least, Margaret told me that it was Flora Leightonls superior strength which had taken down the barrier; bnt remember, Flora Leighton was still s mere fabulous person to 1 did not believe in her, and endeav^Td to make Margaret confess that she whose praises isd been so long sounding in my ears lad really no existence at all except in her own brain. Something like a pres ence, a spirit in human form had ap- leared to Margaret’s vision, and she called it Flora Leighton. I bantered her so much that she declared that I should not see her. I did not care to see her. If Mar garet was soothed or comforted, or # her time lightened by anything like a com biner, I cared not who the comforter was. My sister was my only object of solicitude; and to save her an hour's oneliness or grief, I wonld sacrifice any thing on earth. They only, whose affections are narrowed flown to a single object, can appreciate my de votion to my sister. A mother could not be -more tenderly careful of her ban I was, subduing my stern man’s nature to - feminine watchfulness* averting from her every shadow of evil, or even annoyance. And not less deep and strong was her affection for me. We were bnt two 1” One of our little tome baud had found a grave beneath the waters; another, a bright, rosy, anghing girl, radiant with life and health, had sunk suddenly beneath acute and sadden fever, and then our father md mother departed to the land of shadows. What wonder if we olnng to eash-etber ? That year, October was brighter than that bright month usually seems. I uaed_generally to get home sometimes the'ahortened twilight, and per haps once or twiOe a week I was able to reach it time enough to enjoy the sight of the gorgepua Antnmn sunset One afternoon I eame quite early, intending to take Margaret oat in the chaise to witness the glory of the brightening woods, , .. I came softly into the room, and wit Margaret a lady was sitting by the win dow, reading aloud. Her voice was clear and musical; her intonation per fect, I stepped forward, after listening to the silvery chime for^a while, and Margaret introduced me to Miss Leigh ton. j She had scarcely acknowledged [my awkward bbti before she was gone. I did not see how, nor when she went, but I knew that, in the brief glimpse I took of “her, I thought her 'the ugliest woman I ever saw. As I turned round from depositing my hat and ooat, there was no one there bnt Margaret I told yon so,” I said gravely. Told me what ?” said Margaret * That your friend was only a creature of yodr imagination,^ 1 replied; T ‘n shadow, an ignut faluwt—and could never be identified. How otherwise {lorious harvest moon—as sh6 sailed hrongh the magnificent blue arch over- isad. We talkad long of the Bring and he dead—of those whom distance had •eparated from ns, and of those whose memory was still move sacred because death had set its seal there. We talked of Albert Thornton; and then Margaret told me, for the firet time, what peace and resignation had come into her heart; and how patiently she waited for the hoar which should unite them again. Thin she talked of Albert’s cousin, Flora, and told me how earnestly she had hoped, ail throngh the summer, that I should see and become interested in her; that it would have been ao pleasant to her to feel that, shouM she leave me, as she sometimes thooglt ah* should be called to do, she shouM not leave me comfortless. I was fbuohed by her tender care of me, which thus pointed to my welfare, even when she should be no more. ' It might have been ten o’clook, when some one knocked at the front door, and •aked if that was Mrs. Leighton's house. Hannah directed them, and we heard footetepson Mrs. Leighton’s gravelled walk, then a joyful cry of recognition, and the low hum of oouveroation suc ceeding. ^ : We were both silent—I, from estrange curiosity to know who waa this stranger; Margaret, because something, as she afterward told me, straok her as strangely familiar in the voice that aaked for Mrs. Leighton. Then came a step to the onr garden window, and Flora’s voice called us quickly and impatiently. “Gome in, come in. Miss Leighton,” I said.- “Margaret must not face this eight air.” 8he came in, and seemed to hesitate as to what she should say or do. Woman like, she only bnrst into tears and sob- biag. Margaret was trembling on my arm, bnt she did not weep, A voice said : “Have you told her, Flora? May 1 come now?” “ _ “It is Albert!” said my sister, in s whisper. “ Hush, Margaret!”—L answered. "What folly is this ? You are mad to think of such a thing 1” “It is Albert,” she eaid, calmly and very slowly. \ He heard the words, and the impru- THE OOIONEL’S RACE. HOW HI FAIO HM HOTEL BILL. Wa UtUaAi atm Before Colonel W. became comfort ably settled in life he had many ups and downs of fortune. Once ha carried a number of slaves to New Orleans and made a very successful sale. Heunder- took, however, to in man his supply of money by methods which involved more elements of chance than were connected with' his regular business. It Was an un lucky venture, and in a very short time he found hhnetM with oufy money enough to pay hie passage oa e boat as far up the river ae Natehea. Although he had not a dollar ia his pocket,.when he reached Natehea he put up at the best public house. He wore a broad cloth suit and a silk hat, and sported a gold-beaded cane with which he would not have parted for many times its value. He bore himself with an easy dignity, calculated to impress ell who saw him with the belief that he wee a capitalist with abundant resources, who might be induced to invest some thousands in the property of the town. A week had®early peaeed, and he had not succeeded in patting enough money in his pane to pay his landlord. One Sunday afternoon, when he was serious ly thinking of making s stealthy exit at bight, he learned that the roughs and gamblers, who at that time formed a considerable part of the population of Natehea, had assembled on a public road not fax from the town to witm some foot races. He at once started thitherward, and reecVdd the place juat as an athletic and fk>ree looking fslleW, who waa exulting over his victories, of fered in a load voice to bet $60 that he could beat anybody on the ground in e race of 100 yard*. The Colonel reme bered that hqb«I himself been fleet of foot in his*yYr r \.T days, and, pressed by dire necessity, he reeolved to try hie luck on this occasion, go in the pease which followed the ohempkA’l chal lenge he stepped forward, and making * stately bow, said, quietly, “I will tekd^ him a few momenta in contemptuous surprise; wndsaid, “Well, put up your as dent fellow, imagining all was explained rushed forward and elaapbd Maigaitf ini. With a courtly wave of the hand the ’«is arms. The surprise had well, nigh killed my poor sitter, and Flora re pented too late her indiscretion in not preparing her better. Her sorrow was so real and genuine, that I undertook to console her, much as I disliked her way of oommunioating the surprise to Margaret. — ; We were all happier In hour after- ward, when Margaret was recovered from her temporary fainting, and was sitting with herliand clasped in Albert’s while he recounted the rircumstenoea coding to the mistake that had been made. He had been ill for many days —apparently dying; bnt could not ac count for the announcement of his death in the papers. As. soon as he saw it, it Without further parley the Colonel was contradicted, but w* did not see the divested himself of ooat, vest and hat, contradiction, for our hearts were too heavy for consulting the newspaper. Margaret's life received a new growth the happiness that had come to her. She 'would not renew her objec tions to many Albert^ because now she felt that it was better to make the moet of life while it lasts. She might, per haps ontlive him, even with her feeble health, and, at any rate, Ms eonstency reward. could she have disappeared^" “Naturally enough,” said Margaret, ‘out of the window.” “And this ia the woman yon have been calling handsome pll. the summer said L Margaret fairly cried at my badinage and my contempt for the beauty she bad been praising. I ooujd not tell her what particular feature I thought ugly, in the brief glimpse I bad taken. It was the general impression of the whole face. “Why, she looks, beside yon, Mar. garet, like—like—forgive me—like * tiger lily by the beautiful pale thing that we drag, with its long, slender stem, from the deep ponds where it hides.” T- “She was Albert Thornton’s friend,’ laid Margaret softly. “So she was,” I responded, “and! will never tesca you again about her She shall, henoefortb, be as beadtifal ai you choose to think her. Can I say any thing merer • That night Margaret and I tat up long wofeliinf the Jovely Orfota WWMho the hands to come in oouteot with butter during the pro of wacMag it butter oaa ho worked with the hi the ordinary the query why the briefly *■ ICI&.S.G. AN OLD TIKE SUTTER. pared, but who, by an a fright (Ml feigned sleep. The open and admitted a your bet, thir.” The bully looked af- escape of the Colonel replied, depreoatingly, ‘There ith no need, thir, of tint fonaality be tween gentlemen. I am a gentleman, and I take you to be one. If I looth the rathe I will pay you the fifty dollarth; if you looth it, I do not doubt that you will act with equal honor." The rough and desperate men present seemed to regard this as a very remark able proposition, and for a time the challenger waa nonplussed. He steadily and suspiciously eyed the polite and well-dressed stranger, end Anally said, with significant emphasis, “AD right, old boy; but if there’s any flteksrin* in this thing, yon may know what to ex pect” further chares one day, putting th* butter into balls or the next day an&ffih>B *"*y prices foe the product ia BosUP- The smoqnt of ■alt used by |Kx. BertW* * peeiaUyss they do sol nature of the Abjistious to ti. F. Bowditok, in answer to hand injures the butter, a masting sf County Institute. They follows: “There an in th# akiB which The cleaner the h >rw V the lam obstruction to this process, and the eastor the wfhae matter of the'body, or the insensible perspirations, are dis posed. AD such matter injuriously ef fect the purify of (he butter, to say nothing of the ill-effects of tiie beat temtolnsd in the MU as fpited to butter.” In addition to these objections rap and speeteolu aiiiff he might also have added the danger of injuring the grain of the butter by over-manipulation. When the grain of butter ia injured the butter spreads like grease aad the more it resembles grease the more is &e grain in j«Md. Good butter that has a perfect grain will not stick to the knife that euta it It is, of course, im portant that the grain should not be spoiled by orer-worUng. Wash out the buttermilk with as Utile working as pos sible end avoid grinding batter down against the trey. Many butter makers do not attempt to work out all the buttermilk at one time, and the majority of them wash the but ter with fresh spring water. Mr. Bowditoh mea a butter-washer, and finally to get out all the moisture employes large sponges, with which he rolls up the batter rfter it has been rolled out in the worker, eoathmally mopping the flattened butter. The •pongee are kept in tee water. Hd rolls the hatter three or four Hum, accord- ing to judgment Half an euaea of ■alt ia used to the pound of butter. He keeps the butter covered to pwrefft the it held aloft in a The poor ashooi- master thought Us time had eoms, sad dosed his eyas to say a prayer, i apparition dfeappearad ia the to eat savory slieee of ham aad links of sausage from the provirions there, and than as stealtlfly retraced Ms and Jsst htip yosrvtiL *»y The good ogles about notexpeetiag being washing day, eat, whieh, fat i ty of her heart she literally bettor the corner htootet to than any oth er, as h baa erect all sroand; and eae of the fraternity has iamotid a tin to hake an svub number, fear, so that every oaf wffl be a corner bheoit. With* “better dons” baked potato and corner biscuit the teaehsr is again prompted: “Now try a HMtemataas; ws < - IVHistissi ws’rs " Aad Is year tsa mtysabls? won’t ym take eferaaer and placing them with fate osne upon the grass, stepped out upon the road, and put himself in position by the side of the champion. The spectators evinced the liveliest interest in the race, and ranged themselves alcng each ride of the road. Bets were freely offered at enormous ^iddr against the rash stranger, who certainly did pound, ounee to the more usual amount Butter-makers who handle large quan tities of milk and employ butter-worker* often use a sprinkler for wml The water la applied bom a ■mall water-pot provi sle, so as to dtotribute the water ever the butter as it Has upon the butter-worker in numberless small streams. The water-pot is held ia the left hand aad the butter-worker with the right. When the water flow* from the mass without Iming discolored the process of washing to completed. It to claimed by advocates of this process that the water falling in a spsay over the whole sutfnee of tbs butter,~oooto it sad gives the proper de gree of hsriurm I* the westing of the match for his stalwart competitor; but The wedding was performed in the lit tle village church, for so Margaret willed it, and Flora Leighton was her only bridesmaid. He went-bhek to town in November, and Flora went with us. Albert had consented to stay in England, and we made one family. Margaret, still pale, but beautiful from the soft light of hap piness that beamed in her countenance, was onr stay and dependenoe ia house keeping, and Flora and myaalf bad leis ure to become acquainted. I saw her as ■he was—noble, affectionate and true. I believed that, while ehe waa uncon scious of her own feelings, she really liked me, whom she had so avoided throughout the summer. I had looked at her on the night of Albert’s return, by the softening light* of the harvest moon, and thought she was not so ugly after all 1 And every day afterward I made some progress in tbs belief that she was growing pretty. To-night, ss she site here in our snug par lor, I think her the handsomest woman that I ever saw, os I knffw her to be the beet. We are “very happy now —I and my wife—for yonder to a cradle which Flora will not allow to be carried out of the room, although people tell her it to an old-fashioned ornament, jmd should be banished to a nursery. Aid in the next room to Margaret’s pretty, delicate girl, in a cloud of long, white drapery, sinking to her evening slumbers. a given signal the men darted off amidst the yells of the delighted crowd. For nearly the whole distance the two .con testants, who seemed to be straining every nerve, kept aide by side, but when within about twenty yards of the goal, the Colonel by dint of extraordinary ef fort, shot ahead, and wen the raoe. He was now the hero of the hour, and fa he walked back to the starting-point ex hausted and almost hresthless, he was I heartily cheered by the excited specta | tore. His opponent cams up promptly and paid him the fifty dollars, end r the same time challenged him for an other trial ^o, thank you, thir.” said the (ML pocketed wMekat its best to to he r Airies to The Public Ledger says: “Whan the bride oBherhridal journey to a sensible not look ■ young pereoB, ate will kefp her silk suit in her trunk for 4 suitable sad bed wesrfr on the railway train. A In the spring we shall take them both to the beloved cottage, wherp our happi ness commenced, and where the dead seemed to be restored to Die, and under the shadow of the broad chestnut tree onr tittle Margaret aad Blanch* drink ia health and beauty with hreese that plays with their brows hair, while Margaret afld Floss will aaoaD the money; than on el, as he xaake H a rule never to nya one rathe in a day.” ' He then carefully put oh bto vest, cost, aad hat, placed hie cane under his arm, made one of his profoundest bows, and with a pleasant “Good afternoon, gentleman, ” strutted ooeapkeently away. That evening he paid hte bill at the hotel aad took a boat for Nashville. Colonel W used to relate this in cident with a relish, mid.when asked what he intended to do in case he lost the nee, he would say: “Well, to tell you ths truth, H wath a dethperste cathe; but I had mads np my mind that If I didn’t win, I would ke«p on running, and never look be hind until I reached Harper » Magazine. »nx was in the dimly lighted raoeptios room of a dty dry-goodsstetn, aad walk ing to stall mirror ptoesd against the wall, remarked : “Why, how eeans ytu here?” then, observing tores not to say amusement, on the tbs other oosupsate of tfc oow her ntisteks and sqqpkiMi to itoBfast*. “I fe«gt»ilWPI9 pretty young girl the other day making an expedition to the Catskills, and leav ing New York on a rather cool morning, wore a black tolk dress hut a white Spanish lace fichu, with a broad Gains borough hat and nodding plumes. It got quite cool in the oars on the northern journey, but there w* no wrap availa ble. If alto bed a shawl it was pecked sway in her trank. The groom, who had given no advice efidseitiy lb Ms spouse, or, perhaps, didn’t $now,liad a •tout cheviot suit, and moat have been, as he looked, quite comfortable. Arriv ing at the railway terminus and the stage for the further puD chatter to see how eonfldsntly the little bride climbed into the vehicle, still in the airy fichu, not a scrap of her shouldm, and her face white with the cold. Probably in her modest outfit for ora woolen ftuff of ed for the house. If she on for the journey, and saved black silk tor home uses, ak more nearly hare been, eu the city perepue, who had toft tfcpir moods at thdbaak, aad had tpfcsa woolen suits and one oottan ** fortnight’s journey tains. Hemp, and net aq£, least of fB, the parlor esn, is plqee to wear one’s pretty, airy atothaa. In a public dyowd, oo a journey, all del icate wear to fare to rafts, er chilling cold; the suits ere tbs best tor lounging. had pat that titt lsrel of quart or more of the thtok yellow This Injoa psddin’! Voi, ’two* Ts tabs to eat—toss tl ain't I altos put’«m is Ml One of the old hold was a sort of rate to These eookiee have |ot awful Reid sad dty. The earaway seed’s like little Mis of wood; ' tat aebbe rea eaa eat eue: now do try; The ohlMren altos thtok they’re proper goof." It would hove broken the good wom an’s heart to hare seen her cookies go utouehsd or to hare Md anyons alsa •ay they wore hard or dry—a tittle fic tion other own to gira them of a surj good thinjp, she atom of her guests: “Ces you mobs ream tor flep-Jaeke as year piste? Therm steed so kmc I Itew, don't yea think ea? Ideetera this pie How many “white ties" the flood ays of s foamy, tight eake ‘This sweet oaks, sew. It rta Asd then It fed. Fw Berry,