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TRIl-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., AUGUST 7, 1879 VOL. WHEN THE BABY G0E8 TO SLEEP. The mother sits rocking to and fro, Sweetly singing so soft and low, While onward the minutes creep; Those precious minutes 'tis hard to lose, '0 when will the little eyelids close And the baby go to sleep ? There's dinner to plan and pies to make, And a loaf of gingerbread to bake, And then the parlor to sweep ; The heels of papa's stockings to run, And tMis is not half that should be done When the baby goes to sleep. Heavier pressesthe little head, The eyelashes droop o'er cheeks so red, And the brea'h grows soft and deep; Carefully lay down the darling now, With the touch of a kiss on th' waxon brow, For the baby has gone to sleep. 0, mother, should she wake before You have accomplished every chore, Grieve not though you fail to keep Your house well ordered, th' work well done; 'Tis better thus than a faultless home Where the baby Is over asleep. Granny Carrigan's Cap-box. My wife's cousin was a slender, ok(-fash ioned-looking girl, with quiet, retiring man ners, and a habit of gliding about with al most noiseless movements. I used to call her the little grey ghost. It seemed to me, when my wife first broached the subject, a Quixotic notion to take the girl home with us; but Nellie's heart is so large and loving I "Just think of the poor child alone in that wilderness" she said, with pitying eyes: "and we have plenty and to spare." "So has Aunt Clieney.". "Yes, but she lives in the backwoods, as solitary a place as can be found. The poor child has had no mother for years, her fa ther has been an Invalid ever since alhe was ten years old, and now he Is gone, it does seem hard she should be condemned to sol itude and old Aunt Cheney. At least let us invite her to come for a season. Let us give her a moment of pleasure poor child I She will be so delighted, so astonished with this bewildering New York." 1 consented, of course, as good husbands are in duty bound to do, and on a certain )ctober afternoon, drove to the station for my wife's cousin. I kr.ow her the moment she made her appearance, though' I had never seen her before. The little creature appealed to my sympathy at once by her Indescribably forlord appearance. So small so white, so timid I her lustrous gray eyes, her only beauty, roving around startled to unwonted lustre. "Is this Susie Myriam?" I asked. "Yes; I was beginning to feel a little frightened at the confusion," said she;a "you are Cousin Nellie's-husband." I led her away from the crowd, and she was silent and strange the whole way home utterly preoccupied with the sights to be seen at all hours in our great metropolis. From that time Sussie was one of us-I mean in all that pertains to the manners and customs of.the household; and yet I could never feel any nearer degree of friendship than that with which I welcomed her the first day to our pleasant home. "She is so handy," said my wife. "You don't know how many little things she does and yet I can't prevail upon her to take a single present from me." "She don't care for little vanities," I said. "Don't she I she's as fond of nice things aK anybody, I've found that out; but she has an absurd notion that unless shlo earns costly jewels, she won't wear them; won't dependent even on me for the most trifling ornaments. She admired the old-fashioned pearl brooch that you always liked so well, and I offered it to her. No, insist as I inight I could not prevail on her to accept it. have tried agin and again to tempt ,her, for really, I have so many useless things that I don't wear at all, but its no manner of use. She's the most obstinate little creature I ever saw." Time passed, and I became accustomed to the slight gray figure sitting beside my wife or fitting about like a contented ghost. Wife had found a companion for her soli tary hours, and I was glad. Together they haunted the picture galleries, the art saloons' together they shopped, drove in, the paruk, or lunched. "Whom do you think we met to-day?9" .my wiff asked me one evening, when we were aflne together. "Of all mn in the world, Harry Lonsdale, whom 1 haven't seen since he returned from Europe, and he has a picture at Lozier's that everybody is going wild over. It is a beautiful thing -you know I never could talk art-jargon, but it satisfied me as pictui'es seldom do. When I saw him, ho seemed quito as much absorbed in studying Susie as she was in st~udying his picture. You don't know how pretty she looked. You needn't smile, John, for her eyes would redeem any face. Suddenly Harry saw me, and came up straight to whore we stood. I toldl him how glad I was to know he was getting famous, but lhe only nodded, and said eagerly : "That young lady seems to be rather in terested-I amn flattered." "Yes, that's my cousin Susie," I replhed. "Y our cousin I pray introduce me,"' andl -,John as sure as yulvta ilb match.yulvta ilb " Nonsense," was my rejoinder. knew Harry Loriedale, and Susie was, not b~y any means his ideal. Harry liked dash ing, handsome girls; vivacious, magnetic;: girls of the Tresyhian style, with oval faces languishing eyes and haughty lips. He had sketched such to me by the hour, and I knew some of the young ladies with whom lhe seemed to be on very friendly terms. T[he idea of his fancying this col, gray lit tle creature, .with no figure to boast of, and a manner so sedate and quiet that she -was seldom noticed at all, was preposterous. "It flattered him to see her absorbed by his picturo," I Sid'- "only praise him and I am no~t sure thai ?ieehsebub himself might not hold bi in the chains of eternal friend ship. HarLo ale is the vaintet man I eesafor M ip n g regly is~ a groat "Wiell, w6'lfsee," said my wife, with that etnfideVit little riod Ofhers. "It will if oly )v teca~e te, oa '1 told yous. To my greaf rratoril c at the house three e'vebingeA bt of the wep k after that, Ai4under the intlo fh prsnce t h| ~ttle gr~e~~ ticipations, and began to watch Harry. e I did seem exactly like an impassioned lover. I About this time my wife said to me that 1 Susie was receiving letters from some far off friend. "I notice when they come; sometimes I I hand them to her, but she never mentions them again. Shouldn't you think she would< speak about them ?" asked my wife. I Susie's movements were now of importance in my eyes. How had that plain little girl I contrived to captivate handsome, popular i Harry Lonsdale, the most exacting fellow i in his relations with women I ever knew? t Tie thing certainly was done. Susie came out in a new character. Her F gray dresses were brightened with exqui- f site bits of color. She apoke to my wife of f needing new dresses, and to Nellie's aston- I ishment bought herself several. Then came ornaments, few, but choice and costly. I "Where do you suppose she gets the I money? asked Nellie. "How do we know but. sie may be rich t and eccentric?" was my response. "You i pitiedi her and thought her a poor lon6 girl, < but her father may have possessed property i to a large amount for all we can tell." Nellie shook her wise head. I "I don't believe lie loft a cent; indeed, j what at I saying ? it is a matter of certain- I ty that lie did not, for Susie told me so her- E self. Besides, she would have got fine t things fast enough, scores ot tines. I've I seen the look in her eye when I've been I shopping at Stewart's, suggestive of emlpti ness of pocket and anguish of spirit-for i you see now what lovely taste she has. But I wish she wasn't such a secret thing, t that's what torments ie ; I do like to be a confided in." What f6ilowed made that conversation memorable. Some months previous I had E received the sun of$3,000 for a small piece of land. This money, or a part of it, I had I occasion to use. I went tip to the closet in my roomIm, one side of which served as a safe. I To my utter astonishment the money was not there. I searched the closet through, r and then called my wife for a consultation. Together we looked in every available t place, cleared the shelves of the library, 1: searched through all the closets, bureaus, C boxes, trunks and nooks that the house af- I forded; but in vain, the money was gone; no sign of batik bills anywhere. "Where could you have put them?" asked I my wife. tired and discouraged. t "I put them in that closet; my key has N been up in that little box onl the end of the t mantelpiece; I have neyer been to the closet f since I left the money there, but some one f else has, it seems." "None of the servants but old Iester t ever comes into this room," mturnmired Nel- c lie, and I would stake my life on her hlion esty." "Of course, so would I." t "Three thousand dollars; why, John, 11 that's a large sum to lose." a "bLarge or small, it's gone." 1< "Biut where ?" my wife queried, per plexed and anxious. "Who could have c known it ivas there? People will do such % miserable strange things sometimes." t "Yes, I nave spoKen ot naving that amount by me, two or three times, but no F one was present but you and Susie. It was v an abominable careless thing to do, leaving b3 it lying loose instead of putting it in the t bank, as I should. Day after day we look- e ed for the money, speaking of the suspicions to no one, until finally we gave it tip for t lost. A week after this, Nellie came to my I room with a pale face. "It's so strange," ste murmured, "and I hate to have such thoughts ; but John, I where could Susie have got that splendid c solitaire?" site whispered. What solitaire," I asked. V "You have not seen it?" she wore it to day for the first time." "I suppose shte's engaged-Harry gave it 8 to her," I suggested. "But Harry didu't give it to her. I asked her and site said nto." . "The deuce I" was all I could say. r "And John, it really looks alarming, thme number of costly things site has been buy ing of late. Thirty dollars for a parasol, only think I and mine doit't cost twenty ; a box v~ of daintiest gloves; everything by thme a dozen." We looked at eacht othter in silence. "About thme richest black silk you ever v saw-better than mine. The material must have cost a hundred dollars ; what will it v~ come to whten it is made tip ?" i "What can it all mean ?'' I queried. d "Don't ask me; I'm heart-sick at thme' fl thotught of it. It's miserable btisiness, can I it be possib~le ?-but no, I wvon't say it. t1 Certain it is that she has some business rela-. 3 tions with seime one in the city. Half the d etters site gets are net Iharry's." s "I wonider if the fellowv loves her ?" "Loves her, lhe worships her." a "And he will make her his wife ?" r "Of couirse heo will." "'What is our dtuty it that case, do you e ttik, Nellie ?" -hk "For heaven's sake say nothing abotut it, John. Remember, shte is my outsiin, amnd l' it isn't as if we were poor. I'd rather lose i) five thousand than to have any trouble of p that kind." d "it s terribly unpleasant," said I. ""Of course it is--horrible. And shte's so happy, so thoroughly happy that it would n be a pleasture to look at her If one didn't Il think, didn't dread--lh John, John I" and am poor Nellie htid her face in her hands. .4.nd still the purchases continued. Nel lie and I sidd nothing--never asked a qutes tion, now, b~ut we were all thme time watch- I1 ing, miserable and unhappy. Susie must have noticed the change in us a buit shte was so preoccupied witht her love 11 that site probably attributed it to some other cause. . - a Harry was noW a constant visitoi . He came to my office one day, and with an at most radiant face, told me of -his love for i my wife's cousin. I hope you do not ob ject," hte -added, wheni I ha'd. hteail hIm through. "Why should 19" I asked. "Site's only j Nellie's cousin." '"Hang it. man, you're cool enough abodt f it, anyway,".hie said "Can't yotu get up I a little enthusiasm wjten a fellow is halt be side himself with happiness?9 Youdn' want her' to go, eh 9" "I am qiuite wfllhg,h I answered, "bt I confess there's no sacouanting .for' tatsf,. e She is verf* fat' from th6 .leflson I ,fanblad would be. the che ce of my fatdousirlendcl r Hlarry Yonsdaie. hyou ar'e thinking of our old ,d~sm4 e-btlet me tell yog she isipr~ty 'Het eye iear you own up to something. I'll be blest f I shouldn't think, were you a single man, rou were in love with her yourself." My answer quite satisfied him: "If I vere single, and she the only woman in Ie *orld, I wouldn't marry her." "Whew I well, that's what I call a trifle ecided," he said, and went off out of ten >er. Several weeks passed. Susie had noti - led my wife of her engagement. She could tot but be aware of the constraint in our tiannor. Nellie and I had frequent talks ogether over the matter, in which we coin tiented upoa the straige good that had cemingly overtaken Miss Susie. The die ppearance of my $3000, and her sudden ,ecession of costly dresses and jewelry, did ook, to.say the least, suspicious. One day, on my return home, my wife uformied m1e that Susie was intending to eave us. "She camte to me this morning," con Inned Nellie, "and told me that Aunt Vhe.. icy had written saying that she had a great leal to do, she thought it better to have the vedding outfit made there. I said to her, we thought you would be married from tere, Susie.' She looked strange for a mo lent, for she must have seen how little eart there was in my words. Then she ad Aunt Cheney expected the ceremony i) take place there ; had, in fact, been mak ig great preparations. Besides, she quite vanted to see aanty'F withered old face nd there she choked. She Is going to iorrow night, and is packing now." I would have given the wori to be able s say I wias sorry, but the truth is, her pre once had become hateful to me; I wanted or to be gone. We were very polite to the last. I saw usie off in company with my wife. Harry rent with her, the happiest man1 I ever Mw It was a relief to behold her vacant chair or place at the table, to miiss h1er gliding ioveients, and feel that we couid talk and o as we pleased, with no spy or eavesdrop er in the way. Nellie missed her for a 111e, and often talked and wondered about er. Sile answered her first letter, and do lined to attend her wedding, but the second Atter remained unanswered. Not a great while after that, Harry took house in the city for his bride, and I saw uin occasionally. Towards his wife I en ortained a feeling of strong aversion. It wias sie who had broken up the dear old in Imacy, for Harry and I had been famous riends, and now 11e never called at the of ce. We often heard of Mrs. Lonsdale's recep lons, her dinners, her perfect taste, hrLr fas iuating manners, but we never called. It was iate in the following season before re prepared to take our annual flitting into lie country. I had sent most of the house old goods, which always accompanica us, ud gathered enough together for the final )ad. Nellie came ip to inspect them. "Where in the world did you find that Id cap-box?" she asked, laughing, "and rhy have you installed it on the top of all lie other packages?" "Don't you know the box, Nellie?" I re lied; "it was grandmother Carrigan's, the. cry one in which she used to put her old lacs cap. Why, I can see her face In it A11s moment, and-what upon earth I" L xclaimed, cutting short my speech. My wife had pulled off the deep cover of to box with some exertion, and there, snug r packed together, staring us in the face, rere the missing bank notes. Nellie and I stood dumb with dismay, yoking irat at the box and then at each ther. "Oh, John I poor dear, innocent Snaie I" ras her first exclamation. "What witchery is this I" I responded; 'how under the sun did that money ever et there I" "John. dear, how unjust we have beenl" ")on't make me think any more ieanly f myself, " said I. "I could sell Jolla Car igani, money and all, for sixpence." 'John, what could silo have thoughlt of us? "Suppose you go and ask her, dear ?" "I will ; I'll go righlt there, John ; I rou1ln't have tis weight on my1 conlscience n hour longer for more thlan twice that liserable money." Let uts give the conicision in Nellie's !ordsI: "I went to thle house-you've no ideca rhat a beautiful little palace of a place it i, .John, and asked thle maid for Mirs. Lons al10. Tile girl shlowed me into such a per ct drawing room I-blue furniture, dlear; 11I have lue the next year--and I sat thlere emiblinig like the culprit I felt~ myself. Vhen I hleard footsteps my strengthl quite eserted me, .but I clinchled my hlandR and it up straight. Presently Susie camne in." "Miy clear cousin. I" she exclaimed in her ft musical voice-"'thlen you found tile ioneyl" Imagine miy consternlation I Not a word ouldi I say, I wvas so shockedt to thlink she0 now. " 'Don't look so (distressed,' silo saidl gent ,: 'don't feel troubled about it. It wasa uite natural-perhlaps. Mlistakes will hlap en in tile best-regulated families,' shie ad( ed1, smiling." "And you really knew ablout it ?" "'Yes, I overhleard you on1ce, withlout icaming to, but I was too proud to notice it ile least; I only began planning ho0w I liould get away and try to keep tile know edge from Harry.' " "What you never told hitm " " 'Never ; whly shlold I? I only led im to thmnk you were not agreeable to 11e -forgive me, but ho0w could I hlelp it, miarting under such an indignity. But you a$'e not said whlethler you found tile money. "Y i we hlave, and cousin Susie, you are n angel," I said. " 'Very far froin It,' said Susie, smiling. I hatv~e often tried to excuse you to myself, or circumstances wore certainly against me1 articularly wizen I spent. po lavishly. I Quld netexplaln the reason then ; I1 can ow. My hlalf-brpther forged papa's name or a few. thousand dollarS, years ago. My ather, for my sake, and the honor of tile amily, let him go clear with his ill-gained Ooty, " 'Some months ago, he learning that pa a was dead, refunded -me the money by astalments; pledging me to secrecy, as 11e ld not wish it known even that ho was in xlstence. So I kept thle secret, because I romised him I would. One week ago I eceived news of his depth.' " "And so" cohehltded iny wife, "I asked. or forgiveness for our unjust stispilinS, id I.--..tlyou, John phe ts an angel," I ba gmo doqbL of I~'Iutf wd d that ~~t'n ~opb Bljnh on Managing. lie wah a young man who had seen abou twenty-three years of turmoil and cheap watermelons, and lie entered the parlor in a timid, hesitating way, and looked all around to umake sure that a third party was not present: , "Can I speak to you in confidence ?" he finally inquired. "You can, sir. What passes between us will never be known to the villainous pub lic-not a word of I." The young man blushed, hitched around on his chair, and finally remarked that he thought about getting married. "Perfectly proper-so do 1," was the en couraging reply. "The girl loves ine and would marry ine to-morrow," continued the lover, "but her mother hangs off." "Just the way with 'em," growled B3ijah --"wants lier daughter to marry a golanda, I spose." " I'm getting ten dollars a week and stea dy work, but her mother says we can't get along on that. Sarah and I hate figured, and we see how we could live like bond holders and save money, but the ok( lady is obstinate and says we shan't marry for fIve years to come." "hie hard-hearted old tarantula----slie must be brought to her senses I Young man, have youi any figures with you?" The lover produced from his wallet a paper headed : "What it vili cost Sarah ind ine to live for one week," and pased it over to the old janitor. It read as fol lows; T'en pounds flour............... $...$ 40 D)ne pound butter ................. 16 rhree pounds meat................ 30 l'wo pounds sugar ................ 18 Pour ounces coffee................. 10 rwo ounces tea................... 20 Potatoes.. ...................... 8 House rent....................... 1 5() [ncidentals.............. ... h0 $342 "rhat's a liberal estimate," remarked Ahe lover, as Bijah conned the figures. "My salary is $10 per week, and you see we could save over $6 and live yet extra vagantly.'' "So you could-so you could. Six dol lars a week for fifty-two weels or a year makes $312 per year. You can figure on living forty years. That would make $12, 180. Why, that gi-l's mother must be a regular absconder. If the girl doesn't mar ry you she deliberately throws away a for une of over $12,000, Well, Well, people ire coming to a pretty pass I" "And what shall I do ?" sighed the roung man. "Boy ! I was once placed in this same ituation," replied the old man, as he ooked out of the window at the waving iollyhocks. "I was getting a salary of ll 1 a week, cash down, when the bell itruck 6 on Saturday. I loved a girl, and we could figure on living like royalty and saving up $7 a week. Ier mother wanted ier to marry an Italian count, who was vottli a gold watch, a race horse, and rs itore full of second-hand furniture. Tea f mnd entreaties, and threats, and presents o )oxes of snuff, and spectacles and French. iceled shoes would not soften her heartd )ne night-ah I how well I remember itt ihe not only turned me out doors, but hi. ne in the back with a flat-iron as I went ilxcuse my emotions, young man, but I re nember how that chunk of iron thiunbed ny ribs and laid the foundation for this lyspepsia." There was a painful silnce and the old man continued: "But the girl loved me. We eloped to [ndiana on horseback, were married, and in rour weeks the old lady took tea with me, ite four pieces of pie, and called me the i)est husband in the State of Ohio. "And do you advise us to elope ?" was the eager query. "I never advise," was the solemn reply. "Well, if. we ain't married in less'n three lays then I don't dleserve her I" "Ym"was the reply Bijahi made. "Yes, and we'll be0 hapy," said the over as lie went oait. Bijah looked fixedly at the glaring glass ayes in the head of the India-rubber cat, med mlusedi "Love Is a big thing, and old 'olks mnusn't forgit It. If I had seventeen marters I'd never crook a finger, even if all riarriedl astronamers. Whimsical Funeora~In. A crotchety old Yorkshiremian about half i century ago left directions that the (lay of uls burial should be0 iisherced in with a great ;blic breakfast in tihe town where lhe night die; that the coflln, slung upon tow als knotted together, should be borne along .y relays of men, and "bumped" three Aimes upon a particular heap of stones; that hie "'Lamentation of a Sinner" should then be0 suing; aud that every imn, woman, and hlld who entered the church-yard with or ufter the procession should receive a dole of sixpenice. Never, we may fairly believe, wvas that particular church-yard before -or since so plentifully'filled with living beings; u urners only in thIs sense, that they longed ror a succession of men who would-'order ~heIr funerals in similar fashion. One old ady,' an inveterate snuff-taker, left a will nu which the bequest~s were mainly depend mut on the observance of certain rules con 'iceted with her favorite excitant. Snuff wvas to be thrown into the coffin before the snuff-taking testatrix was "screwed down;", muff to ho strewn on the threshold -before hle funeral cortege passed out; the coffin to de borne by the, six nlost determined snuff akers in the parish; slxol maids as pall bearers, with well-filled snuff-boxes In their liands; snuff to be strewn on the ground at ivery twenty yards in advance of the. cof In; and the officiatIng clergyman's large retaining fee to be in sonic way proportion.. ite to the quantity of snuff lie took during dhe ceremonial. .An eccentric Nottingham man known as Ned Daiwsots was strong in his TIorylenm as In hise eccentricity. He caused his- coffin to be made during his lIfetime, and painted true bluie (the Tory bolors). Ho used-it as a cupboard for twenty yeats; but onuce each year, on the anniv.rsary of his birthday, he. bron ltit into requisition In a still :inorv singuar man er. He dressed in his best clotes, and lydown in hiis coffin to see that It waa. all right in dImensions; then eng, th4 6oila was filled wsth goodly van~ and carried on the shoulders of his alsooul es, hme himnself following 6.s chief qrltwith a large pitcher of. ale in his had iand so theo procession inado tue of oof the rooms and- p d6tis eni s,~ may be readily liisedI, IEIMIIIO ingenof the het oft M N i she t6 n centutv 'one a tatni in the East India Company's service, was burled in a style singular enough, though not outrageously extravagant. Ie built himself a house hi eccentric fashion at Missenden, in Buckinghamshire, and made anticipatory arrangements for his funeral, certainly marked by no great reverence for established usages. "I will have nothing to do with the church or the church-yard; bury ine in my own wood on the hill, and my sword with me, and I'll defy all the evil spirits in existence to injure me." Ilis remains were deposited according to his will. A kind of dwarf pyramid of flints and brick-work was constructed, about eleven feet sqnare by fifteen feet high, with a small Gothic window on the North side and another on the South. Be ing partly overgrown with Ivy, and In a thick plantation on the top of a hill, it Is about as far removed fron the eye of a passing stranger as a monument can well be. The cotili is placed upright in the tomb, and the captain's sword on the top of it. One of his descendants, some years afterward, wishing to consult public sent i me at t little more closely, had the collin quietly removed from the pyraid and in terred in the parish church-yard. The 11ev. Langton Freeman, who was rector of Bilton, iu Warwickshire, alxt a century ago, did lia best to obtain for his own funeral a very detailed attention to his own wishes by certain clauses in hi will. "Four or five days after my decease. and until my body grows offensive, I would not be removed out of the bed or place I may (lie In. And then I would be carried in the Saie bed, decently and privately, to the summer-house now erected in the gar den belonging to the dwelling-house where I now inhabit, and to be laid in the same bed there, with all (lie appurtenances there to belonging; and to be wrapped up in a strong double winding-sheet, and to be Iin all other respects interred as near as may be to the description we read In Holy Scrip tvre of our Saviour's burial. The doors and windows to be locked and bolted, and to be kept as near in the same manner and state as thvty shall be in at the time of my disease. And I desire that the building or summer-house shall be planted around with evergreen plants, and fenced off with iron or oak palings, and painted of a dark blue color. And for the due performance of this in mannor aforesaid, and for keeping the building ever the same, with the evergreen plants and the palings in proper and decent repair, I give to my nephew, Thomas Free man, the manor of Whitton," etc. Thie wishes of the testator were duly carried into effect. When two or three generations. however, had passed away, and the tomb was well-nigh forgotten, an entry was ef fected by making a hole through the roof, and there the body of the old rector was 'found nearly dried up. Of course there is no entry of so very unclerical a burial in the parish register, for his successor in the pariah could not have signed it if lie would. Anecdotes or Prince Napoleon. The father of theyoung prince Napoleon, though he loved the boy very dearly, rarely petted him save In public. One day the boy, then perhaps five years old, was cry ing with the toothache. The Emperor scolding him, saying that time future Em peror of France should be above all such weakness. "But It hurts me awfully, papa," replied the boy. "No matter," sternly rejoined the hero of Sedan; "stop up your ears with your fingers, and you will not feel the pain." The -bay glanced at him in amazement, but followed lils father's advice, and ten nlmiites litter an nounced that the pain was over. liki and ahniable as lie was, the prince occasionally yielded to temper when hils playmates, the sons of Dr. Conneati and Gens. Fleury and Epinasse, webe not ready to obey his whims. - "I min a Napoleon," lie said one day to young Espinasse, who had rofused to race with him; "woe to im who wvill not obey." His father over heard him, and the boy was condemned to bread and water for twventy-four hours. The young prince, when a little boy, could not be Induced to mount a poiiy unitil lie had been threatened with the severest pun ishmuent, so much did(1 he fear a tumble. Afterward lie became a fine horseman. Young Louis was frequently requested by his tutor1 Gon. Froissard, to be prudent. "A prince,' he was told, "should never conmmit himnself oiie way or the other." A short while aifter lie had been reminded of this duty, the soni of Geni. Fleury asked hu if lie was hungry. "I would not like to express any opinion on the subject," young Louis gravely replied. One day, at the Paris Exhiibitioni of 1867, the Emperor aiid family happened to pass through the outside gallery of the Prusesiaii department, where time immense Krupp gun was exhibited. It weIghed 3,000 tons, and was mounted on a massive gun carriage about eIghteen feet in height. The Emperor was obliged to pass under it, and cast a stealthy glance at the monster without ralshmig lis head. The Prince Im perial, with boylike inconsistence, sought to attract his father's attention to the gun by pulling the skIrt of lisa frock coat. The Emiperor gave him a jerk, andl the party moved along. But the boy was iiot satls fled, and in a subdued tone, almost timid ly, asked: "Whir have you not got a big ger one, papa?' "I[ do not wvant war, child," the Emperor replied alond. Ap p~lause greeted lia words, but perhaps those of the boy were worthier of consideration. flow Interest Eate. One of the causes of bankruptcy is that so few persons properly estimate thme differ ence between a high and low rate of Inter est, and therefore often borroi money at a ruinous rate that no legitimate business can stand. Very few have figured on the dif ference between six and eight per cent. One dollar loaned for one hundred years at sIx per cent. with thme interest collected an nually and added to the principal, will amount to $840. At eight per cent. it amounts to $2,208, or necarly seven times as much. At three per cent, the usual rate of interest in England, amounts to $10.25; whereas at ten per cent, which has been a very common rate in the United States it is $18,809, or about seven hufndred times as miuch. At twelve per cent. it aumounts to $81,075, or more than fodr thousand'times as much. At eighteen per cent. it amnount# to $15,145,007. At twenty-fou per cent. (which we sonmeimes' hear2 (k df) i$ reaches the enormotts sn'm of 2581,,79, 404.- One hundred dollarA borW lt sx per cent. with the intoegt'ao aed An nual, will atmogtnt to $1,849 $ while the satWi $100 borrwt beak afn $4 OO11 dedav r i # A Ride on a Safety-Valve. .Jimmy Carr was too old to take up arms when the war began in 1801, but he did the next best thing he went into the navy, enlisting as assistant En gineer on the steamer Queen of the West, a freight boat which had been bought by the Government and altered into a 'rani' in Cincinnati. The vessel which was under command of Captain. Elliott, was ordered South and it was at the battle of Memphis that Jimmy Carr met with the particular adven ture, which made him a hero in as pe culiar a imanier as ever hero gained the title. "It was on the 0th of June,'' said Jiitumy, "that Memphis was taken. I reimniber it well, for it was a hot day, and I was in a hot place too I can tell. The fleet was laying five miles above Memphis, and the Queen was a volunteer that morning. Early in the day we got orders to move down toward the rebel batteries, but had no sooner got within range than the "Johnnies" opened fire oi us. Our captain called on Curti. tile first engineer, to let loose and Ie (lid, and we were soon steaming (town the river. "We weren't long under way until we had one hundred and fifty pounds of stenin on, and still rising. Curtis detailed me to look af ter the boilers-we had four which were on deck-and I went off to ily post." Th1e first thing I notlced wias that the safety-valve wasn't weighed heavy enough for the extra pressure, and the steam escaped. I couldn't see anything lying around to weigh it down with but a large lumip of coal. I lifted that on to the lever, but it was no use, us it was tumbled off in a minute or two. By this time we must have had fully two hundred pounds of steam on, and on looking out I saw the rebel gunboat, the General Lovell, steaming up and tiring at us. We had no guis aboard and only eleven sharpshooters, and tie shot was flying around us pretty lively, I knew it was the ea'p tain's intention to try to sink the [Lovell, and I saw that it would never (o to allow the steam to escape as it was doing. I had to think quick-there was nothing near that I could weight dawn the valve with, but I was bound not to be beat and just got astelde of the lever myself and sat down on it. It was pretty hot, but [ stuck it out. .1 looked out and the Lovell was only a couple of hundred yards off. She stopped to round-to, but the Queen was too quick for her, and with a ruqh, we were into her, just astern of the wheel and almost was clean through her. .1 wis so exclted that I never took my eyes off her when we were coming up, and just bore my weight down on the lever, never thinking to hold on to any tiling. When we sttuok, the shock was so terrible it just knocked me head aind heela over the boilers. Curtis was watching me, and thought I was killed and halloed out: "There goes poor Jimmy;" but I wasn't gone. I was stunned for a minute, but Jumped up and climbed over the boilers and strad ded the lever again, this time taking a good hold. Thle Lovell sank in about five minutes, but we had hardly time to get clear of her before another rebel craft, the Beauregard, steamed up toward us. We treated her the same-way as we treatedh the Lovell, but this time I kept my seat and clutig oil for dear life, and the shock didn't knock me off. $oon after the Queen, having nothing more to do, drew out, from the light and1( 1 got diown from my pierchl. I felt a little sore, and had a few burnis-for it was a hot place I was in-but that was all the worse I was for thle adventure.' Adroit, Thieves In Parlq. An adiroit band of thieves have been "workhng" Paris with the deaf '*raek et." An old gentleman arrived at a wino shop at the hour when it was miost crowded, and gave an order. When his liquor was brought to him h le cried out in harsh tones so of ten notleed among the deaf that he had not been given what lhe had asked for ; then hay ing thus secured the attention of ,the guests proceeded to make inquiries about an Imaginary resident in. the neighborhood. H~e shouted, and the waiter had to bellow in reply, and as the deaf man made the most ludierous mistakes in attempting to catch his meaning everybody laughed, and the merry customers guyed the poor old man to their hearts' c'ontent till he got angry and departed. Meanwhile hi accomplices had broken into the upper stories of the wine-shop and rifled them during the confusion. Over fifty rob beries or this kind had beeni committed when M. Jacob the famous head of the detective service, pounced on the gang. He had seen three men slip intoa door way at dusk While a foui'th entered the wine-shop and followed the latter, gly ing orders to the other officers to secure the threeaecomiplices.' Signing toapd licema'n to accompany him, Jacob en tered the shop, and jute as the man 'with his hand fghis ean Was bawling, "Louder-I'm deaf! eIdhoAtnarked, in an ordinary tone of voiepi. "This ogig cor.'ll. AsQert you to the police-seg geon." The .deaf, nian .drew a 1 ki~fe andattempted to dash it but Jspob knocked him downe with his life pro serv'er imd handcuffed i ti, l 4r Ia IPlOYe, tQ the~W ~s~ FOOD FOR THOUGHTj What is the best governmspt? That which teaches us to govern ourselves, To inlure another'is to- teach him to in)ure us again, and even an ant can sting and a fly trouble your patience. You might, no doubt, cominune with much wiser persons than yo4rself, but with none more profitably. Temper is so good a thing 'that we should never lose It and always com mand it. The beauty of the face is an enviable thing, but the beauty of the hiat lasta longer. Some hearts, like evening primroses, open most beautifully in the' shadows of life. Let a man overcome anger with love, evil by good, the greedy by liberality; the liar by truth. Minds of only moderate calibre or dinarIly condemn everything -that la beyond their range. lie who takes care of the utilverse has arranged all things for the safety and good of 'the whole. . I Without the virtue of humility one can neither be honest In poverty nor contented in abundance. Many a man dreads throwing away lils life at once, who shrinks not from throwing it away by piecemeal. If one strives to treat others as lie would be treated by them, he will not fail to come near the perfect life. No publicatiun of a character unilt for family reading should be allowed to cross the threshold of the home. Learning without thought is labor lost: thought without learning Is peri lotus. What men want Is not talent, it is purpose; in other words, not the pow. er to achlove, but the will to labor. There comes a time when every man wonders why he is such a lamentable railure. - -The brightest thing we have notie ed going around lately is a highly pol. ished circular saw. Never run down a clock for being too !;low or too fast. Let it alone and it will run down Itself. At all times confidence and truth are better revontives of jealousy than con oealment. They who least shrink at the storms nf fortune are always -most virtuous and victorious in the end. We would gain more if we left our selves to appear such as we are, than by attempting to appear what we are not. Friends are as compaions on a jour noy, who ought to aid each other to persevere in the road to a happier life. It would be well if we had less medi nie and more cures; less cant and more piety; less law and more Justice. Make the home the happiest and Dleasantest place for your children, ioud you will never regtet the time and trouble it cost you. lie is happy whose circumstances muit his temper; but he is more excol lent who can suit his temper to any )ircumstances. Is it right to give a Christian burial ;o one whose whole life and influence iave been expended in opposhig relig lon and its ordinances? While moral sewers do exist and while humanity remains what it is, will exist, It is a question whether ,hese sewers should be uncovered. Human opinion has so maij shad. a hat it is rare to find two pople who igree. But two people will agree won lorfully If they will but let a third iink for both. We may liitate the Deity in all at Gributes, but mercy is the only one in which we can pretend to equal him. W~ecannot indeedi give like God; but surely we may forgive lIke him. A thankful spirit has always fresh natter for thankfulness To praise 3Od1 for the past is the sure way to se nure mercies f'or the futi~re. Prayer mdu praise live or die togethaer., The more married men you have the fewer~ crimes'there will be. Marriage remnders a man more virtuous and more wise, Tihe fi~ther of a famnily is not wviling to blush before his ohi ren. Religious principles inculcated in a. ,hild'g heart are like g'olden nails which times drives in faster,'and no philosophleal claw can comtpletely .iraw out. Nobody has a right to put another inder sugh~ a difficulty that lie must ither hurt the person by telling the ~ruthm, or hurt himselfbytlng ha as not true.bytligwa Those' who make consoeece of speak nig the truth, generally itosper in the world; anad none -ate inore" visibly )lasted than, those who make no con icience of a lie. The Providence which watches over ~he afFairs of' men works cpt of their niistakes, at times, a healthier issue ~hah could have been accomplished by ~heir wisest forethought. The wish often falls warm upona my eart that I may, learn nothing here hat I1 cannot continue in the other world ; that I may do nothing here but leeds that will bear fruit In heaven. Suceh is. life? To day we tread thme marrow way; to-mnorrow cannot say we've done .our duty; for, giving all nmr leisuae to maudilin reirth and pleasure, we seek for 'worldly beauty mod earthly treasure. Life is made up, not of gtekM I4ro icees or duties, but -oft little things It we..ich smiles and kindness and ut411 ~bhgations giverf habitually, are what win and preserve the heatiand Aecuire ols el wiik k toh6bb lastsioeti souk1 no but oply taske.~nnli. toruethi iwishOed ~rod~e r~