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4 1 *4. N1TRI-WEEKLY EDITION- WINNSBORO, S. ., JULY 1, 1880. 'rtI ' ASTOR'S STORY.4 The past or's little daughter Sits smiling in the sun, IMeide her on tle old stone bench The story-book just done, And lurking in her wine-brown eyes A story just begun, For yonder, pruning the apple tres, Behold the farmer's son. Slowly adown the pathway The pastor comes and goes, And setiles with his long, lonu hand The glasses on his nose. Dore ever dry. brown branob before So beautiful a rose ? Al, he thinks his blossom only a bud, Though he watches it as it blows. Is it the story of Moses In his rush-wrappod cradlo found, Or of Joseph and his br'etIorn. lie thinks as he glanoes round ? "You have finished your volume. Amy. Is It something~soriptural and soundol?" And his little daughter lushes and starts, 8 And her book falls to the ground. Go on with your walk, good pastor, You do not yourself de ceive : It has been a scriptural story Since Adam first kissed Eve. 5 And never blush, little lassio. The tae was written above, r No other so speaks of Heaven t: As the old, old story of love. I f] U The Hermit of Lone Cabin. 1 Away to the base of the beetling crags Y and cliffs of the hoary Sic. ra8 stands a lonely cabIn, where only ruin and desola- St tion mark what inight have once been a r pleasant if not a happy hoie. Well do I remember the dark, tempestu- ti ous night that a friend and myself passed I beneath its roof but a few years since. a While seated before a glowing fire, for it a was late In autumn, he gave mc the follow- ti Ing veritable history of the place: NotwItfistanding that it was miles from ti any habitation, several years before a sohi- of tary individual had appeared in the vicin ity, and out of the mnatorial that he pro cured fron the neighboring forest built w tills rude cabin. il He was a stranger to all who met him, and seeming to avoid rather than to seek I acqualutanco-, lie soon became known as tI "The Hermit of Lotne Cabin." Three years passed, and tile unknown still lived In his sce.usion, subsisting upon the game that he readily procured with the aid of his rile. One (lay about this time, as the hermit contrary to his usual habit, visited the bo nearest settlement, twenty miles below, he tl was net by a new-coner in the lplace, who f greeted hi with the familiarity of an old 8 friend., Appearing surprised, lie denied ever hav mng seen the other, and would fain liavn th left himt, but the would-be assointe seized W( him by the collar, excla'ming: "You can't deceive me, Loren Ciray. 1 th knew you the mome I saw you, though t live years have changed your looks great- C ly. Don't you remember Frank, Chap tm,an. I am he. Come, old boy, I want se to show you to another old friend whom you will be glad to see." s1 Still the hermit, confused and excited, tl protested that his naie was not Loren w' Gray, aud that lie had never imet the other. tu "Twon't (o old chap; you can't deceive ine by playing off in that way," was the l reply lie received. "I known that you are Loren Gray, and I have a Triend down to the Eagle House who desires to see you on it most important business. Come with me, k and if lie don't recognize you, I will stand the drinks for the crowd," for by this d time quite a knot of spectators had collect- c( ed around the spot, eager to know what was n up. r4 Yielding with great reluctance, the her- el mit was half dragged by the impetuous a stranger down to the public house, follow- dI ed biy a throng ot lookers-on. ni "I tell you it's a mistake,'' repeated the LI victimi; "my name Is not Lor'en Gray. hi By this time they hnd enitered the bmild- c lng, and the stranger, turning quickly to Iih a young man lying on a diry-goods box | a near at hand, indolently smtoking his pipe, Ii criced: tl "hIere Al, I have found hIm." is 8printging to his feet in surprise, the i one addlressed, who d11d not sent to be lb more thau twent,y-cine or t wo years of age, * ~but with a tall, athletIc form, turneid upon01C the intruders. 11n As hie cauight eight of tbe hiermit lie siaug-|hi geredi back like one shot, and pressing his hiaiid to his forehead, exclaimed : "Loren Gray I'" b "'Yes," criedI his firiend, triumphantly, e "I found hint less than five nuitiltes ago; but lie has the audiaclty to deny his iden- y tity," Unheeding the words, the younger man I1 faced the amazed hermit, aind as his pierc Ing eyes met.the others, lie said hoarsely, t 'keiablinig with passion: "hfave you lorgottein me, Loren Gray ?" 1' "For mercy's sake, tell ine what ti.iis means! I anm not Loren Gray, andl neither C do J know you." "Bali I You need not think to escapeO by your lies. I have ntot hunted for you this live years to be baflied now that I have found youl. If you (10 not rememiber me, have you forgotten my sister, whomn you betrayed and muttrderedl ?" "'I "Not:. a word, (dog! 1 You can offer no atonement for the wi'ongs that you have done save in the sacrIice of your life. But ] I wish to take no advantage, and1( I -chA~l lenge you to meet me in mortal combat." "No, no!l" cried the othet. "'You are a stranger to me and 1 have no rtiarrel with you. 1 muist decell to fight y'ou." As the hermit spoke te words, widich in the minds of the rough mtent around hun marked hiim a coward, the room rang with their cries of dlerislon. The young stranger, too, his face nearly colorless with rage, uittered a contemptituouis cry as he (ealt the mant a smtart blow on the cheek. "There; see if that will tnot awaken you. I say that one of us muist dlie. Take your - chice of weaponstand1( mett me at oce. I ant impatient to htave'it over. I care bat little If I fall, if I can know ere I (lie that the utntimelv fate of my poor sister lhas been avenged. Comte, Norman," addl(ress hIg his companion, "you will be my see (ond, while lie can select whom lie wyill. If I fall, you know my request. Don't let him escape. Well, .Loron Gray, dare you meer meo like a mini or haveo you or.ly :ourage enough to war upon defenseless vomen?" The hermit, fairly writhing under the reatment lie had 'received, could only look tpon him'in silence, The excited crowd began to hoot him, nd the confusion was becoming ominous if danger to the trembling man, when the Lvenger silenced thein with a move of his kand. Then. drawing a brace of heavy revolv irs, he extended then both toward the ther. "Take one," lie said fiercely. "I see ,ol are not armed; but they are loaded ,like, and you have iothing to fear. from hat score." Without a word the bewildered victim icchanically took one of the proffered fire rms. 'Mid thb applause of the crowd, the duel it led the way to the door, and out into lie open air. Jostled and pushed by the excited spec %tors, the hermit slowly followed. Once outside a;id the young stranger's econd began to measure off the ground for lie duel. As the preliminaries w*'ere arranged, the telists took the positions assigned them. The challenger emphatically waited the low movement of his foe. "I call upon you to witness," said the .cluse of Lone Cabin, addressing thd spec Ltors, "that this is no quarrel of mine. lut, after this treatment I have received 'M this man, whom I postitively say I ever saw before, I am driven to this. If fall, please see that I have proper burial. ,s a last favor I beg that you will not in ay way try to discover my identity. Will ou promise that?" Receiving the hearty assent of the by anders, the man signified that lie was in !adiness for action. Trhere succeeded the ominous "one, two, tree, fire," when the young stranger rap ily discharged his ,weapon and with such ,curacy that his antagonist reated'forward id fell to the earth without making a hos le movement. Smiling grimly the slayer remained mo. onless as thespectators rushed to the side the fallen man. "Is lie dead?" cried one. "Dcad as a stone!" exclaimed a tall eather-heaten mountaineer who was bend g over the silent form. "T'rhen my work is done, and the wrongs y poor sister siffered are avenged I" said c younger stranger as lie turned to join a companion. Meanwhile some of the others began' to like preparations for the burial of the un rtunato hermit. While a couple were in act of raising the 1 >dy to bear it away, they were surprised see the long, flowing beard worn by the ikinown person fall to the ground, and a cc as white and smooth as a maiden's ddenly disclosed to their gaze. A. glance told then that it was false, and a the Irmift of Lone Cabin was a )nmani In the height of the excitement following o discovery the stranger duelist reached a spot. and as lie haught sight of the fair untenance lie cried: "My God I it is my sister I." and fell son less. To cut the story short, by the time the eaker recovered his consciousness after e fearful shock lie had received, the atinded one began to show signs of re rining life. It was then tound that though the shot id barely escaped beintg fatal, it was not Lely to prove so. A long sickness followed, however, and was mionths before the whole story was lown. "The Hermit of Lone Cabin" was in -ed the sister of him who had nearly be >ne her murderer. Years before she had et and loved a inan by the name of War. n Arnold, but on the dlay before that fix I for their wvedding lie had disappeared, id she, nearly broken-hearted, was a few iys after abduhIcted and( borne away to the ountain retreat of a band of road agenrs', me leadier of wVhm was none1 other than er false lover. More grief-stricken than ever, she sucO eded in escap)ing; but, somewhat crazed, isteadl of returning to her friends, she hmad )ught a life of lonleliness. Her brother alph, who had beecn away at school for iree years, learned of hecr misfortunes andl ipplosedl death, and retuirned to his home begin a search for the villain who hlad een the cause of so mluchi suifering. Warren Armnold's true name was Loron ray, andm Ralph ever spoke of hhn by that sae, though his sister hlad never kiiown iml by it. Accompanied by his friend, Norman .n, lhe had sought far anld widIe for hmlim, uit to make at last that well-nigh .fatal rror 1i mistakinig the "hermit" for lisa foe. As his sister had not seen hhin for eight cars, and at a time there is most change one.'s appearance she had not recognized When she was able, they all returned to iru homes a happy comlpany. Later, Normnan Arlin becanme her hius and, aind a now life dlawnled for lier. The Lone Cabin still standis, a momilento f the p)ast. I'rerntIer AIaadstoneo. In personal appearance Mr. Gladstone i n active, lithe, muscular nman, rather tall ad of welh-proportioned frame. Ills face nid thggure have that clear-cut contour whiIch generally indicate several generations if initelcetuah activity and personal leadet - .hlp. Mr. Gladstone is the decendant of a ong line of Scotti-hi lairdmen of smnall vealthi and( limited possessions, b)ut aceus omeod to stand first in their comimuinity, to lnk and to lead. The face IS scholarly, multivated, its outlines boldly dielinedi by hat meagreness of mulscle which disti ;ulhes the intellectual athlete. There is mot an ounce of sup jefluouis Ileash on it. TIheo hin lips and well-cut miouthI and chin be ~oken firmness, det ermination and endur 11ee. Sevenlty summners have sat lightly on Mr. Gladstone, but the years have brought their blessings of rest, and his face in general wears the reose5 .of strength and experience-strongly lined with the record (of troule and thought. A new fact,'how ever, or an aggressive opinion, wskes the whole man in tihe tire >f youth, and the eye flashes with eager light, and tile body bends quickly forward as if to grasp a fresh ac qisithon. Like all strong Englishmen, Mr. Gladstone is a man of large physical pow er and( endurance, fond of out-door air and 'work, and thme ring of his, axe at- Hlaw arden, so fatniliar to England, has echoed even across the Athantio. A Bunless Girl. Henry Richter and his wife were married in the old country about thirty years ago, and in succession they lost four children, each of whom came to the age of two or three years and then died of something which seemed like inanition. They faded away, and the best medical talent in the Grand Duchy-they are Badenese-.-could assign no cause for the deaths. Richter and his wife came to America and settled in St. Louis, where they lost two more children in the same way. Shortly before th birth of the present girl, Richter met th6 Baron von Micheloffeky, who was stop ping in S. Louis at the time, and to him he told the story of the blight which had fallen upon his family. The Baron was a member of a nuniber of mystical societies. We believe he belonged to some lodge of Itosicrucians, which the great Liebnitz adorned; and touched by the tale that the father ha(l told him, he cast the horoscope of the child at the moment of its birth, carefully noting the aspects of the planets and making a chart of the future of the baby which at the moment was crying in its nurse's arms. Just what that horoscope was has never been told to any one but Richter and iis wife, and the result was that they have never moved away from the house in which they then lived and have carefully kept the girl out of the sunlight eve- since. Henry is a wealthy man and can gratify every whim which an idle fancy could perceive, but he has chosen to live always in a mean neighborho.)d, surround ed by people with whom he has not a thought in 2onnon, all for the reason s. preserving the daughter whom he idolize-f A writer gained acc6ss to the lady's chamo ber and had a pleasant chat with her. She eviced a strong desire to get out of doors and see a world of which she knew noth mng. The writer thus describes the lady: Margaretha was reclining in an easy chair before the grate, in which a rather bright fire was burning. The room was also lighted by gas. and every detail was very apparent. There were no windows in the room, and the furniture *as of the most costly character, but it may easily be im agined the scribe had eyes for nothinig and for nobody but the pale girl by the fireside. She looked fully her age-nineteen-but her face was blanched and white; not a tinge of red could be made out in the checks, although it was evident enough in the rather full lips. Her eyes were blue almost to blackness, and her hair, whidh rolled off the cushioned back of the chair and fell in masses on the floor, was black as night. There was not a feature or a tint to suggest German origin in her face or lithe form, and she looked rather sweet and amiable than pretty, although her features were regular enough. She was attired in a laced and frilled white wrap, gathered about the waist by the strings of an old fashioned sontag of white wool, the only bit of color in her dress being a blue silk kcrchief wrapped negligently about her ;hroat. On the whole she resembled noth ng but a crayon picture brought to life. A Boy and p Poe. .Of course it is wrong to go fishing on the 3abbath day, and the clergyman of a Berk ibire county church felt that it was so when ic addressed his Sundgy School and earnest y exhorted the boys to refrain from such a rocceding. But there was one boy in the Ichool who, instead of being led away from ;he evil by the pastor's address, merely got he idea from it of going out that very after loon, and when the reverend gentleman, wvho, on six days in the week, was as ready ;o pull a trout from the water as the next nan, was strolling .n the meadows later in he day, lie was pained to come upon that wicked small boy seated under sonic bushes md angling in a 'deep hole in a brook. He stopped and said to the confused and blush ing youth: "My boy, I'm sorry to see that you pay so ihttle regard to what I said this mornmng.'' The boy had dropped his p)ole at being addressed, and at that instant the hinestraightened wvithi a yank that betokened a big trout on the hook. Thue lad saw it, but he dared not touch the pole until the clergyman said: "You had better take your pole and go home. Be quick, too, boy I" T1hecn the youngster tried to obey, but he was a very small boy, and the fish didn't come out very easily, andl the way that clergyman fretted and fumed for a minute was a caution, and then lie said : "I-I am afraid-if I leave you with the pole, you'll use it again when I'm gone-go home and P'll take it home for you," and he seized the po'.e and the small boy skipped away and in a miunte there was a splendid three-pound trout in the clergyman's hands, and then before lhe could hie the pole andi wvrap the fish in his handkerchief to put it in his pocket, along came one of the dea cons, and the pastor had a terribly embar rassing time explaining the matter, and had to name seven different days that he expect ed the deacon to dine with him before the latter wouldi believe that the pastor found a boy there with the pole and fish, but that the youth ran off on the pastor's approach. Beat the Thermometer. When the toiling, presptring masses dis covered that the thermomieters down town marked plump 100 dlegrees in the shade, they wip)ed off their chins and congratulated each other on having lived to see such a ho,ed. About the time that everybody was happiest, along came a small boy whoso face was as red as a beet and( whose eyes shone like glass.' "Wmhere's a doctor ?" lhe caliled out as lie entered a crowd. "Helre, boy-what's the matter ?"replied one of the men as lhe reached out to detain the ladi. "Huili family freezin' to (death at the house ?" lie explained. Dad is in the dlownstairs bedroom, shakin' and chattermn' and( callin' on me to bring him redl-hiot'tea and put bricks to his feet. Mamn, she's up stairs, with four quilts and a carpet over lien, but I heard her shiver clear dlowin to the corner. My sister she's got her feet in tihe cook-stovo oven, and is writing an ode to winter, and b)ruithor Bill1 he's lyin' in the sun on the sidiewalk an' axin' everybody to' hendi him some Kyann pepper to help start a circulation." "Is-that-so?'' slowly queried a coli zen. "Course it is I HIain't I down town after a (lootor an' some soft coal ? I wish some of you fellers would tell me if thle Prob. report predicts a change to warmer .weather." The thermometer still marked a plump hundred, bnt as the crowd again turned to the figures there seemed to be a goneness somewhere-a sort of aching void which firures couldn't. fill. . Moloneyt Goats A few days ago, a- boy sat in the dock of the police coirt at San Francisco, weeplug bitterly. He was charged by his father with disturbing the peace and leading a disso lute life. Ills name was Aloloney. Ills father was a contractor who, at the expense of the city, earned an honest political liv ing. They took a newspaper, and the un fortunate boy read an incendiary item to the effect that Frank Buckland, the natuiallot, had discovereoi that a goat was an exoellent thing to keep in a stable along with horses, as it would face fire and the horses would follow it through flames. He thought it over. He wanted to show his father what a thoughtful and considerate boy he was. Besides, lie wanted a goat. He went down on Rincon Hill and found one. It was a goat of Irish proclivities and ownership, and of the male geiler, Would it face fire? It would. It wasn't expensive to keep. It had lived for a month on shingle-nails and oyster cans and the .different. ropes with ,which it had been tethered. Would the man sell him He would give this one away be cause he liked the little boy's looks. And the poor, unsuspecting little boy started for Natoma street, down First, the goat leading the boy. He felt pretty good for a goat. Whenever a horse went by or a dog hove in sight he would get up on his hind legs and walk Spanish, while the dogs let out for the lission, and the children on the front piazzas had fits on an average of about eight to the block. Finally he got an idea and ricochetted uD Mission street injumips that would have sprained the ankle of any goat but him. The boy acted as rudder and steered him to Natoma street. It was after dark. There was hay in the stable visible through the open door. The goat debated the matter a while ani then went in. The boy said nothing about the investment to his kind and lovirg parents. Fortunately 'his father was down at the grocery store and know nothing. H-e would come home go full'ot politics that lie couldn't tell a goat from a six-bit umbrella unless the goat had time to explain. Ile hoped that his father would not go to the stable. lie prayed that lie wouldn't. He had faith and confidence in his father, but he doubted that goat. The $3 clock in his bedroom struck 11, and lie knew by that that it was 12:45, and that the old man would be along shortly. lie heard him coming, heard the gate slain and then, first trembling and then in anguish, heard his father's footstcps' going towards the stable. lie heal d the padlock rattle, heard the door swing open, and then lie heard a whizz, a spasmodic puff as if a small balloon had bursted, and then a skiff ling noise as the heels of his father's boots slid along the planks and he fell backwards in the mud, about eight feet and -three-quar ters fsom the door. le raised the window and looked weeping and silent upon the scene. He knew what the goat could do, and it was hard to hear his dear father gasp like a gold-fish as lie tried to intlate hinself again. Finally he forced down enough wind for meagre conversational purposes. He said : .... .- 'a show. ed drtfoartoft 7 ", Still no response except a faint clattor of hoofs that told the listeminr son that the conceaied thunderbolt was prancing arond on his h4nd legs aching for another shot. "Is that you, Moloney ? I'd shpake wid you." The voice came from the bed-room window where the night cap of the boy's dear mother appeared surmounting her kind face and the to4p of a broomstick. "can't c'm up. Got somelln here (hic.) Sumfi blowed up.'' "Whart is it " "Don'no (hic.) Guessr roof fell in." "Why don't yer go an' seet Air yegoin' ter shlape there all night, ye (hrunken ould freckle ranche ?" Braced up by the conniumbial indorse ment, Ilie father arose, as (lid also a large portion of the loose soil in the yard alongt with him. Triangulating with some difll culty to t,he wind ward side of tIle door, lie unmroofed himself and peered in. No ex plosive agent was visible in the darkmiess, and tile spavined mare deClivered a reassur ing whinny. .Mr. Moloney had11 prize-foughlt in his younger days, and it occurred to him that it wouldi be strategic and defiant to shy his hat at the amibuscade. Tlhe amnbuscaide took in t,he shy but remained quiescent, save for the motion necessary to masticate it. having regained 11is wind and some cour age, lie concluded to cnter. He p)laced hnim self temp)tomgly In the doorwvay, facing ont ward. No sign I lHe took a s.ep back wardi, still withl safety. A third, and still no trouble. Moloney struck a match, and there stood revealed a nmeek-looking billy-goat, largest, size, copper-frontedi iand Sweet, of express ion, who, as the last two inches of huat rim disappeared downa hmis ais>phgus, pro~mnul galted a gentle "baa I" The kind ju 'ge noticedlthat time little boy had been standing upi all the time he was in the dock, though there' were plenty of benches, andl understood vhy he wanted to go to the Indlustrial School until his father broke his arm iand his imothier caught t,he paralysis. lie told him.to cheer up, how ever, and lie would see alout lis case, and1( the litt,le boy wiped lis nosie on) the sleeve of lis coat anid went belot. Few pecople need reninding for what Hloniton, Enmglandi, is fanious, as they are whirled through its 'ellgghtfuli valley, which so strongly imnpreses the traveler who here first m-akes acqiaintance with t,he varied scenery of D)evan. Lace-milking, however, is not confinid to lionilton, bt extendsi over a large tingular disatriet of Southern Devon, from hie little village of Scaton at the mout,h ofthe Axe river along the coast by Beer, Bramacombe, Salcombe, Sidmenth, and Ottertai to Exmiouith, ii eluing most of tile vijnges between Ilom-. ton andi the sea, ami apcecalhly the towni of Ottery St. Mary. 1. even reached to Lyme Rtegis in Dorset; where, at the end( of last century, lace s#s made as high mas four or five guineas a1'ardl, which rivaill Brussels in estiimatiot, ''a sl>lendhid lace dress for the late lainented ( ueen Char lotte was fabricated; at Lyme," says its historian, "which gan great satisfaction at, Court." Tile usual ty?e of Hlonit,on lace consists of sprigs in id separately, like Brussels lace, on a pilIM, andh then appli-* gued, or sewn on to sliet ground. in the blat, century this was $1)ain pillow-ground made of the finest Antkerp thread,- which in 1700 cost ?70 per und, though even more was given for itj Eighteen shillings a yard, scarce twvo I lies in width, was paid for this ground. The ordinary way of paying for veils of this fabric was (as jewelers now weigh oteeigns against, gold chains (by spreading llhlings over thiemi Puss and the Sparrows. The other day a number of gentlemel were sitting In the detectives' room in th< Dity Hall, Cleveland, Ohio, when an Eng Jisl sparrow flow near the window, peope( u and darted away aiain. Captain Holz worth, who saw the little fellow, said tha whenever he saw a sparrow flit it rominde( iin of a little scone which occurred in bli rard one cold day last winter. The spar ows, it seems, ascertained the fact thal ,here was a knothole in the gable of hij iouse, and took advantage of that know, edge by taking possession of the hole and t portion of his attic, where they passed tht flnter as snug as bugs In a rug. The cap. am's wife has a warm spot in her heart foi nrds. So when the ground was coveret mith snow, and the little fellows ran a risli )f starving to death, Mrs. 11. would swpei tway the snow and s'pread upon the ground L fine repast -of crumbs. The sparrow ion learned to depend upon her, and told heir friends what a fine landlady they had. n consequence hundreds of then congre. patecd (aily about the Captain's house and >artook of his charity. Close to the spot vhero the birds were usually fed was a pile >f bricks, and upon this pile the Captain's hrished mouser used to station himself or the purpose of watching for prey. As oon as the birds would get comfortably ettled about the crumbs the cat woul( >ounce upon them and invariably get a ender sparrow for dinner. Finally the irds became accustomed to the cat's mode f precedure and would be on the watch vhenevcr they were feeding. They were o alert that the cat would hardly Let realy or a sjp*ing before they were up in the air ud out of danger. One day they were ating as usual, and tile cat as usual was latching them. Like a bolt of lightning he mouser jumped into their midst, but licy were too quick for her, and escaped uhurt. Miss Tabby. not discouraged, iounted tile pile of bricks again and await d their return. The sparrows, after flying bout for some time, finally settled upon le fence at the foot of the lot, where th -y eld a long and interesting confab. Aftor liattering iway for several minutes they autiously returned to their crumbs and re iimed their eating, keeping ill the while a iarp lookout for the enemy. After the at had become satisfied that they were too mcli interested in satisfying their appetite > think of her, she made another spring. 'he birds were up In an instant, and in ead of flying away as usual they formed icinselves into a hollow square and charged pon the foe. Some got upon tile cat's tek anid scratched and picked with all icir might; others flow right intoJicr face, hile the balance made it interesting in the !ar. The cat wits so sur-prised at first that to was unable to move. The birds be Line more mind more infuriated and fought IChL a savage battle *that they drove the ie down the garden path on a full gallop id under the barn. They returned to teir feast and were left to themselves the SLane Vocations. A lady-resident of the Faubourg St. Ger. ain, Paris, is credited with- earning a )od income by hatching red, black, and :own ants for pheasant preservers. One arisian gets his living by breeding mag ts oit of the foul meats lie buys of the tiMfoniers, and fattening them up in tin )xes. Another breeds maggots for the >eial behoof of nigtingales; andt a third marchand d'asticots" boasts of selling be veen thirty and forty millions of worms rery season for piscatorial purposes. ie wns a great pit at Montmartre, wherein a keeps his store. Every day his scouts ring him fresh stock, for which lie pays tem fron five to ten pence per pound, ac rling to quality; reselling them to ang rs at just double those rates, and clearing tcreby over three hundred pounds a year. Io wonder lhe professes great fondness for is "'children" as lhe calls thiem ; although, ke other fond fathers, he is ready enough >lpart with thiem when oppiortunity offers. his curious vocation Is not unknown in Ingland. Sonme twelve years ago, we are ,ld, Mr. WVells, a fishing-tackle maker of ottinghiam, In order to ensure a constant ipply of bait for his customers, started a trm for tile rearing of lobwvorms, cock purs, ring-tailed brandlings, and other 'orms In dlemanid among the deciples of V'alton, who abound In the old lace town. 'o keel) his farm stocked, men and boys o ont at night collecting worms In the lacadows andc p)astures; a moist warm night ielding from two to six thlousandi worms. s s'oon as they are b)rought in they arc lacedl in properly selected nmoss, fleld moss >r choice, to scour until they become little tore than skin--freshly caught worms be ig too tendler for ihe anglers to handle; 'hile ''when a worm is p)roperly eduicatedl, a is as tough as a bit of indlta rubber, and shiaves as a worm should do when put pon the hook.'' When tils condition is .tainedl, the worms are packed ini mioss, id put up in light canvass bags for the larket. T1his worm merchant dloes not itirely depend upon the industry of his >lectors, but b)reedis large quantities him. If In his oivn garden ; the component irts of lia breeding-heap being a secret lie >t unnaturally keeps to himself. A Dh)lomatie Answeor. The old man SmIth, of Richfld, is a 'If-suflicient sort of an old fellowv, and 'tIdes himself upon his rIding abilitier. no day lhe esp)1ed his young hopeful lead - g a colt to water rather gingerly, andl re arked : "WVhy on earth don't you ride that ,ast ?" "i'm 'fraid to; 'fraid he'll thlrow mc.'' "Bring that hoss here," snappecd the 0old an. Tlhe colt was urged up to tihe fence, and 'acedi oni one side0 by the boy while the old an climbed on to the rails and stocked nmself 0n the colt's back. Thea lie was t go, andi the old1 gentleman rodle proudhly Yf. Paralyzed by lear the colt went slow for about twenty rods without a demon ration. Thelin like lightning his four legs mchledt together, his Jack bowed like a aduct arch andi th o"ld man thot up in ec air,- turned seven separate and dlistinct mersaults and lit on the small of his back the middle of the road, andi with both iS legs twisted around his neck. 11astcn g to him the young hopeful amiouasly in ired: "Ild it hurt youi, pa ?" The 01(1 man rose slowly, 8shook out tIhe sots in his legs, brushed the dust from his irs andl halr, end rubbing his bruised el >we growled : "Well, It didn't do me, a bit of good. ont so home.." and giving as many as covered the lace. At present the sprigs are generally sown, as they are completed by thn work-women, on blue paper, and then united by another hand, iller on the pillow by "cut-works" or "purling." or else joined with the needle by various stitches. The patterns of these sprigs are in the first place pricked with needles on a kind of shining brown millboard known as "parchment paper," by women who often devote themselves exclusively to this branch of the business. Among the connonest sights of a flue sum mer evening in East Devon are the lace makers, each seated at her door, with their lace-pilows (which resemble thick circular pads) on their laps, and the small children around them on their little stools, all busily occupied in making these sprigs, whether "turkef-tails," "blackberries," or "stars." Similarly in winter the steady "click, click, click," of their pins proceeds from every cottage, Just as in a Nottinghamshire vil lage 13 heard the incessant jar and rattle of the stockingers' frames. The picturesque village of Bccr, near the chalk headland of the same name, so famous of ok( for smugglers,, is now celebrated for I Its exquisite lioniton lace. Here the Queen's wedding-dress was made at a cost of ?1,000. It is composed of Iloniton sprigs connected ona pillow by a variety of open-work stitches. rhe Princess Royal, Princess Alice and Princess of Wales also woio wedding-dresses of Honiton point I made at Beer and the neighborhood. Capi tal workmanship in this lace was shown at the International Exhibition in 1862, but the patterns were conventional and clumsy, arabesques, iade lions and poor imitations of nature. Hence may be traced in great measure its 'decline in public estimation, though its costliness must always militate against its general use. In consequence of this deficiency prizes were offered in con- t nection w ith the Bath and West of Eng- t land Society for natural work in Iloniton i lace,, which produced such admirable speci mens that the Queen ordered thei to be C sent to Windsor Castle for her inspection. From very tender years children are taught t to make loniton lace in what are termed lace schools. The little things collect in a c dame's room, and under her tuition, fre- I quently econded by a cane, are taught the 8 mysteries of the art. They are appren- 8 Liced to the trade in Devon at eight, nine, c and ten years of age (but in Bucks and Beds Dommonly at six years, often at four or live), earning nothing in their first year, ind sixpence per week in the second. s Afterwards they are paid so much per V sprig, the price varying with the demand, value of cotton, etc., but being generally b I id., 2d., or 3d. per sprig. "* can make t rour turkeys' tails a (lay, and get I Id. for * a girl of ten lately told us with par- ri I:lmable pride. A child of five years o'd si wvl earn a penny in four hours by making, c fix "flies." One master in the trade is s 5aid to employ as many as 3,000 of these h 6vorkchildren. A clever adult hand will a asily earn a shillimr a day at her lace-pil iystem. Tite average earnings of a quick iand may be put (town at three shillings or ;hree shiilings and sixpence a week. At Valenciennes the workers used to toil in .indergrotiid cellars fron 4 in the morn- g ng till 8 at night, and scarcely earn ten ence a day. The abuse coutiected with p ,he lace-chools were lately exposed by the g 'hildren's Employmente Commission. It 1 was found that the hours of work in them b were gencialy excessive, and the atmos )here extremely bad, owing to the crowded itate of the small rooms in which the t lhildren work. Discipline is rigidly cin rorced, and in some schools, in order that. 0 Ahe face may be kept clean, the children sit 11 without shoes on brick or stone floors. b rhese causes, coupled with the constrained t position of the worker, who must bend 1 3ver the pillow which rests in her lap, lay 1 Lhe seeds of illness and frequently of con- tj sumpnltion in after life. The morality p amongst thme lacemnakers of D)evon, weh c'an testify, from peisonal knowledge, is ij large. They arc thin and sallow, inclined t to that bold, false indepCjendence which is y always engendered when women neglect the donmestic virtues. Thme children are t often defiant and disobedient to parents, and, on the wvhole, the occupation of lace making cannot be called one favorable to umorali ty. lie w"as a r'eace omler. In Presque Isle county, toward Macki nac, is a beautiful lake-Hlight Grand lake n -on whose shore stands a club house y owned by suniry fish-loving citizens of j Adrian, Michigan. TIhe country around is p~ pretty much as nature made it-roug-- f, and the few backwoodsmen living there are a much like thme country. One of them, Ii iinedl Crawford, was lately elected Justice y of the Peace. A wood-chopper made conm- hi p)laint that a certain raftsman hiad beaten b him, and asked for a warrant for thme of- u fender's arrest. The Justice's entire stock al of legal blanks consistedl of a summons and a a subpo.na. After spending some time n vainly in trying to make these papers fit e lImo case, lie got mad, flung dIown his C papers and addnressed the complainant thus: a "See here, mister, this court Is bound to see p justice done In this towvnship. You pay me n two dollars and a half, costs of court, show me the man, and tihe Court wvill lick the Dvil out of him in two minutes." Comn plamnant paidl the costs and pointed out the man. The ''Court,'' with majesty on his S' brow andl his sleeves rolled up, wvent fer l# the offender, and in sixty seconds thrashed C dimi to thme full content of both parties. i r'ho Court then put on his coat and re inarked that "lie was a peace oficer, and wished it understood that this Court wvould b preserve the peace, and any man who hloughmt lie ceuld raise thmufder in that neck >f woods would have to try'the case with n he court personally.'' No other ease has mince been triedl h)y' Squire Crawford. Hto Felt at Tritlo Flat. An Oregon woman threatened to ecut her la tusbiad's nos5e off, and( lie overheard the aI hireat, and in the night lie awoke and found b ier tying his feet and hands. But he didn't v pve himself away. lie dletermine'l to tI utop her in the very act of committing the a< 3rime, and so felgnedi sleep until she had ii got him securely tied, and( had got the h knife all ready to do the deed, when ho ii pened his eyes and cried: "Alh! hussy, q I've caught.you in the very act !'" But she dida't drop the knife or saem dismayed. Bho asked him what he was going to do k about it, andl then lhe discovered that he Ci couldn't do anything, and as she whacked b the nose off he didn't feel that heo'd boen so blamqd smuatt, aufter all. - FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Act well at the moment and you have performed a good action to all eternity. Anger and jealously canl no more boar to lose sight of their objects than love. Work to-day, for you know not how much you will be hindered to-morrow. A noble heart, like the sun, show'eth its greatest countenance at its lowest esitatel A man may well bear his or9ss jpa tiontly, whilst on the road to wear lus crown. h'ley who hre too poor to trade in the world, may buy abundantly in God's market. Modesty is to worth what shadow are in a painting; it gives to it strength and relief. Heaven's gates are wide enough to admit every sinner inl the universe who is penitent. God's help seems long, because we are short. A short walk seems long to feeble knees. No man can ever hope to know much who doesn't begin by knowing that he knows nothing. We believe that God's power is with out limit; why should we not believe the same of his mercy ? Domestic rule is founded upon truth and love. If it has not -botit of these it is nothing better than a despotism. Good men have the fewest fears. lie has but one who fear to do wrong. lie has a thousand who has overcome that one. There is in ('hristian(ty light enough for those who sincerely wish to see it, and darknesa enough to confound those of an opposite disposition. The vanity of loving fine clothes and new fashions,,and valuelng ourselves by them, is one of the most childish pleees of folly that can be. Ballads are the gipsy children of song born under green iedgerows, in the leafy lanes and by-paths of literature, In the genial sumnier time. Jests Is said to have marvelled only twioc. Once at the faith of the cen turioi., the other time at the unbelief* of the peolle of his own city. Feelings come and go like light troops following tho victory of the present; but principles, like troops of the line. are undisturbed and stai,d fast. It the Lord careth for thee, be thyself at rest; for it lie care, why sliouldst thou care too? Ills providence will provide if thou sincerely trust it. One quiet example of saintly living has more power in any church or In any community. than the loudest talker there is about entire consecration. Thte covetous man lives as if the world were made altogether for him and not lie for the world; to take in - everything and part with nothing. suflice that they are wholesome. It is not required in physic that it should please, but heal. Every man has in his own lite folliea enough, in his own mind trouble enough, in his own fortunes evil enough, without being curious about the affairs of others. The occupations of men are, unfor tunately, for the most part, such that they shut out all deep thought while they.are going on, and yet make no en nobling claim on the mind. Death to a good man is but passing through a dark entry, out of one little dusty room In his Father's house into another that is fair and large, lightsome and glorious, and divinely entertain ing. Good servica is )rompt servie. It ceases to be a favor when lhe, upon whom the service is conferred, has lost in patience and hope deferred what lie mighmt have bestowed in love and grati There is no mean work save that which is sordIdly selfish ; there-is no irreliglous work save that which is morally wrong, while in every sphere of life "the post of honor is the post of duty." The cultured man is free from preju dices, which are the most diffleuit to eradicate from t,he heart whose soil has never been loosened or fertilized by education; they grow there as fIrm as weeds among rocks. Love, when founded in the heart, will show itself in a thousand unpre meditated sailles of fondness; but every cool, deliberate exhibition of' the passion only arghes little understand ing, or great insincerity. What man in his right senses, thaut has the wherewithal to Jive free, would make himself a slave for superuuttles? What dhoes tiiat man want that has enough? Or what is he better for abundance that c<rn never be satislied ? When we are young we waste a great dleal of time in imagining what we will doe when wve grow older ; and when we are old we waste an equal amount of time in wondlering why we waited so long before we begin to do anything. You can traini thme eye to see all the ,brighmt places of your life, and so slip over the hard ones with surprising ca'se. You can also train the eye to rest on the gloomy spots, rn utter for-. gctf'ulness of all that is right and beau tiful. Tihe former is the better educa tion. The mani who takes his place in this world, whether to preach in a taber ncle, sing in a colloseum, or build the waste places, having a clear view of his wvork a settled conviction of duty who believes what he asks others to believe, an'l lIycs' wh:tt lie teaches w'ii liid an open door to success. None can live well until they get God Into theIr lives. The one thing that makes men great is to realize that G ,di has an internal plan, and to enter K into It, gIve one's seff to it, trusting to . ilimn the final issues. ills wvork is ti en the object of life, and fah in film bc.. comes resistiers courage arid exhaust hess p)atience. There it a great deal of dlifference be.. tweens modesty and bashfulness. The iatter is a terror of being app)roaeched by .trangers, or confronted with an unaccustomed fact or position, and I proceeds from egotism. Modesty is aever seif-assertivo. It dhoubts itself, but is never afraid to expess its wil iingness to attempt what is asked, and w.hien we are successful, modesty ,pre vents us from boasting or superollious asrtion.