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TRI-WEEKLY. EDITION.' WINNSBORO, S. C., AUGUST 23, 1881.ESALSFD18. THE F'ARMER'S SEVENTY YEAUS. t Al, there he is, lad at the plough; lie beats the boys for work, And whatsoe'er the task might be None ever saw film shirk. r And lie can laugh, too, till his eyes j Run o'er with mirthful tears, t And sing full many an old-time song In spite of seventy years. "Good morning, friends I 'tis twelve o'clock; Time for a half-hour's rest," And farmer John took out his lunch f And ate it with a zest. "A harder task it is," he said, "Tlian following up these steers Or unending fences, far, for ne t 'ro feel my seventy years. "You ask me why I feel so young, t ]'in sure, friends, I can't tell, But think it is mny good wife's fault Who's kept me up so well; For women such as shte are scarce In this poor vale of tears; She's given ie love, and hope, fid strength For more than forty years. "And then my boys have all done well, As far as they have gone, ' And that thing warms an old man's bloodl, t Ani helps hiin up and on, My girls have never caused a pang, Or raised up anxious fears; - Then wonder not that I feel young And halo at seventy years. Why dont' my good boys do my work And let me sit and rest7 Ali I fpends, that wouldn't do for ine : I lik'd ny own way best. They have their duty ; I have niine, Anl, till the end( appears, I mean Io snel the soil, my friends," Said the inan of seventy years. e ONLY A FEW WORDS. Mr. Jaies Winkloinan shut the door e with at bang as he left the house, and v moved down the street in the direction n of his office, with a quick and firm step, t: and the air of a man slightly disturbed a in mlilid. "Things are getting better fast,"said a he, with a touch of irony in his voice, as 'j he ahnost flung himself into his leather 1 cushioned chair. "It's rather hard when 14 a iman has to pick his words in hii own b1 liouso - as carefully as if he were picking ] diaionds, and tread as softly as if he a were stepping on eggs. I don't like it. 1 Mary gets weaker and more foolish o every day, and puts a breadth of mean- c ing on my words that I never intended h them to have. I've not been used to this a coming over of sentences and picking h1 out of all doubtful expressions ere ven tiring to speak, and I'm too old to be- a gill now. Mary took me for what I am, h and she must make the host of her bar gain. I'm past the age for learning new d tricks." Wtth these and many other justifying n seitenices, did Mr. Winklenan seek to y obtain a feeling of self-approval. But., M for all this, lie could not shut out -the e image of a tearful fAce, nor get rid of an annoying conviction that'hio had acted , thoughtlessly, to say the least 'of it, in speaking tohis wife as lie had done. k But what was all this trouble about? i Clouds were in the sky that bent over the home of Mr. Winkleman, and it is. j plain that Mr. Winkleman himself 'had b his own share in the work of producing i these clouds. 'Only a few unguarded C words had been spoken. Only -wordu I And was that all? Words are little things,but they some times strike hard. - We wield theni so a easily that we are apt to forget their hidden power. Fitlg spoken, they fall like the sunshine, the dew and the for-~ tilizing.i'ain; but when unfitly, like tho' frost, the hail and th-e desolating temp eat. Some men speak as they feel or think, without calculating the force ofa what they say;and then see~m very luch surprised if any 01nd is hurt or offended. To this class belonged Mr. Winkieman. His wife was a loving, sincere wonmn, of quick feelings. Words to her wvere in deed( realitics. .They nievor fell upon)1 her ear as idle sounds. Howv often was her poor heart bruised with thlem ! On this particlar miornling, Mrs. I Winkleman, whose hlealth was feeble, y found herself, found, herself in a weak, ti nervous state. It was only by an effort that sheO could( rise ab~ove tihe mlorbid ir- ' ritability thaut afflicted her. Earnestly a did shle strive to - repress tile disturbea b~eatinlgs of her heart, but she strove in vain. And it seemed to her as it often . does inl such1 cases, that everything went I wron~g. The childron wore fretful, tlhe C cook dilatory amid cross an~d Mr. Winkle- c man imlpatienit, becaulso sundry little matters pertaining to his wairdrob~o weroe not just to hia mtinhd.t "Eight o'olock,and no0 breakfatst yet," k said Mr. Winklemain, na ho drew~i oult his ~ watchl, 0on comlpletinlg his own toilet. t9 Mrs. Winklemnan was in the act of dIress- 1 ing the last of the five chtildron, all of whom had passed ulnder her hands. fm Each had boon1 capltions, cross or lunruly, c sorely tryinig the 'mothler's patience. u T wice hlad she been ill the kitchen, to 1 300 how breakfast was p)rogreslsing, and( hi to enjoin the carefull preparationl of li P favorite dishl with whlich shte hlad pro-. plosed to surp~riso hecr husbandlll(. "It will be ready in a - fow mninultes.," a said Mrs. Winklemnan. "'The fireohasn't f burned freely this morning." ) "If it isn't one thing, it is anlothier," 'I growled the husband. "I'm getting tired E of this irregularity,' Thore'd s'oon ho0 no p breakfast to get, if I were .lways behind ime) ini bulsiness matters." Mrs. Winkloman bent lower over the T ehild she was dressing, to coniceal thie 0, expression of her face. What a sharp pain now throbbed through 1her temuplesi n Mr. Winkleman began to pace tile floor -i mplationitly, little imnagilning that every ~ arring foot-fall was a blow 011 the senisi- ti ve aching brain ,of his wife. 1h "Too bad 1 top bad I" he had just acuated when the biall ranlg. "At 1ast 1" he ninteered, and strode ni ,wards the breakfast room. The chil ren followed in considerable disorder nd Mrs. Winkleman, after hastily ar anging her liair,and putting on a morn ig cap, joined them at the table. I ok sonie nioments to restore orde: mong the little ones. 0 The dish that Mrs. Winkleman han coni at considerable pains to providi Dr her husband, was set 1) side his plate t was his favorite among many, and hii rife looked (for a pleased reeognitioi hereof, and a lighting up of his cloude( row. But lie did tiot seem even to no ice it. After supplying the children fr. Winkleman helped himself in silence ,t the first mouthful, he threw downi hi nifeoaind fork, 'aind pushed his lat 'A omhim. hs la "What's the matter?" inquired hi rife. "You didn't trust Bridget to cool his, I hope ?" was the response. "What is the matter with it ?" Mrs Vinkleman's eyes were filling witl mrs. "Oh ! it's of no consequence," answer d Mr. Winklemnani, coldly; "anythint till do for me." "James I" There was a touching sad ens blended with rebuke in her accents nad, as slhe uttered his name, tears gush a over her pale 'cheek. Mr. Winkleman did not like tears 'hey always annoyed him. At the pres ut time, lie was in no mood to beni 'ith them. So, on the impulse of th 1moient, lie rose from the table and, king up his hat., left tie house witiouil nother word. Self justification was tried,though not, s has been seen, with comlete success. 'lie calmer'grew the mind of Mr. Win. miman,.and the clearer his thoughts, ti %s satisfied did he feel with the parI e had taken in the morning's drama, ly an inversion of thought, not usual miong men of his temperament, lie had een presented with a vivid realizatior fhis wife's side of the question. Th< mnsequence was, that, by dinner timic e felt a good deal aslianed of himself, ad grieved for the pain he knew hi asty worde had occasioned. It was in this better state of mind thai [Ir. Winklemnan returned home. Th< ouse seemed still as lie entered. As li roceeded up stairs, he heard the chil. ren's voices, pitched to a low key, ii ic nursery. He listened, but could ot hear the tones of his wife. So i assed into the front chamber, whicli as darkened. As soon as ho could set [early in the feeble light, lie perceived tat his wife was lying on the bed. Hei yes were closed, and her thin face look I so pale and death-like, that Mr. Win. leman felt a cold shudder creep through is heart. Coming to the bedside,he lean 1 over and gazed down upon her. Ai rst lie was in doubt whether she really reathied or not, and he felt a heavy eight reioved when lie saw that bei liest roso in feeble respiration. "Maryl" He spoke in a low, tendei id loving voice. Instantly the fringed eyelids parted, id Mrs. Winldeian gazed lip into hei usband's fac- in pai-tial bewilderment. Obeying the mnomen-t's aimyulse, Mr. linklemnan bent dow~. and loft- a kiss pon her p~ale lips. As if moved by am octric thrill, the wife's arms were flung cound the husband's neck. "I am sorry to find you so ill," said [r. Winkleman,in a voice of sympathy. What is the matter?" "Only a sick headache," replied Mrs. [inklenman. "'But I've had a good sleep, id feel better now. I didhn't know it as so late," she added, her tone chang. ag slightly, and a look of conicern oom ag into her countenaice. "'I'm afraid our dinner is not ready;" and she at limp)ted to rise. But ler husband gently laid her back ith his hiand, saying :'"Never minad 'mont dinner. It will como ini good time. you feel hotter, lie perfectly quiet. ave you suffered much painm.?"~ ''Yes." The word did not part hem ps sadly, bunt camne with a softly wreath 1 smile. Already the wan hue of hei aceeks was giving place to a warmer ut, and the dull eyes brightening. That a healhing power was ini his tender mes and1( considlerate words I And that iss-it.had been a nectar to the droop g spirit. "Blut I feel so much bet ter, imt I will get up," she ad'ded, now ris g from her pillow. And Mrs. Winkleman was entirely oec from pain), as she stepped upon the rpet, and moved across the room, it as with a firmn tread. Every muscle as elastic, and thie blood leaped along ar veinis withi a iiew and~ healthier im ulso. No trial of Mr. Wikea' patience, a a late dlinner, was in store for him. Inm few minutes the b~ell summoned the mily; and lie took his plaeoC at the ta he so tranquil ini mind, that ho almost ondered at the change in his feelings. :owv dif'erent was-the scmne from that resented at the morning meal I. And was there power ini a few simplec ord1s to effecti o great a change as this? es, in simphle words, fragrant with the :lr of kindness. A few gleams of lighti shone into the dind of Mr. Winkleman, as lie roturnied using to his ofilce, amid lie saw that lie as frequen tly to blame for the clouds aat so ofteni darkened over the sky of "Mfary is foolish," he said, in partial dif-justiflcation, "to, take my hasty orls so munch to hart T sakten without meaning half what I say. She ought to know me better. And yet," he added, as his stAp became slower, for he was thinking more ingenuously than usual, "it may be easier for me to choose my words more carefully, and to repress the unkindness of tvie that gives them a double force, than for her to help feeling pain at their utterance." Right, Mr. Winkleman I That is the common sense of the whole matter. It is easier to strike, than to help feeling j or showing signs of pain, under the in fliction of a blow. Look well to your words, ye whose words have the most weight, and fall if dealt in passion, with the heaviest force. Making Things Over. "Maria," said Mr. Jones upon one of his worrying days, 'it seems to me you might be more economical; now there's my old clothes. Why can't you make them over for the children instead of giving them away ?" "Because they're worn out when you're done with them," aiswered Mrs. Jones. "It's no use making things over for the children that won't hold together; you couldn't do it yourself, smart as you are." "Well," grumbled Jones, "I wouldn't have closets full of things mildewing for want of wear if I was a woman, that's all. A penny saved is a penny earine(l." That was in April. One warn day in May Mr. Jones went prancing through the closets looking for something he couldn't find, and turning things gener ally inside out. "Maria !" he screamed, "where's my gray alpaea duster ?" ''Made it over for Johnny." "Ahem I Well, where's the brown lin en one 1 bought last sumner ?" "Clothes-bag I" numnbled Mrs. .Joues, who seemed to have a diffieulty in her speech at that moment. "Just made it into a nice one I" "Where are my lavender pants ?" yelled Jones. "Cut them over for Willie." "Heavens !" groaned her husband. Then in a voice of thunder: "Where have my blue susipenders gone to ?" ''Hung the baby jumper with them." "Maria," asked the astonished man, ini a subdued voice, "would you mind telling me what you have done with .my silk hat; you haven't made that over for the b)aby, have you ?" '"Oh ! no, dear." answered his wife cheerfully. "I've used that for a hang ing basket. It is full of plants, and looks lovely." Mr. Jones never mentions the word economy or suggests making over he had enough of it. 111g Farming. High farming is a system of tillage and farm management that is self-sus taining, a system that takes nothing but the bare land, the domestic animals, the farm implements and machinery, and cultivates the soil, sustains the family and the animals, pays the annual taxes, defrays the expenses incident to the mi provements that must be made on the farm, cancels the annual interest on the money invested in the land, eventually pays for the land, all from the prodilets of the soil cultivated; and after one, two or three decades of years, leaves every acre in a far better state of fertility than the soil was at tho beginning. Th'lis is high farming. There are untold nunm hers of quiet, unobtrusive tillers of the soil in many of our States,wvho have com mnenced precisely as we have indicated, without one dollar of cash capital, who have had no revenue whatever besides the natural resources of their cultivated fields, and who have by hard work and judicions management sustained their families, p~aidl for their lands, erected all of their buildings, p~aid for all their val uab~le improvemen ts, andl at the same time, have brought their land to that state of productiveness by their judi cious management, that every acre yields as much, if not more, than it did origi nmally in a state of nature. This is high farming. Yet such a system is %ften sneered at simply because the propnrie tor knew how to save his money to de fray expense of improvements. There is no need of land becoming imploverished, (een when it bmears a crop every year. Proper cultivation with plenty of man ure is thme key to) high farming. D~on't, You Forgot It. A Detroit man detected his wife and ai neighboring man planning an elope ment. Heo allowved them to proceed uin disturbed to a certain point, and then called in a policeman. T1hme result is thus related: He took 'a lamp and led the way to the woodshmed. Th'le neigh ber, dressed in his Sunday suit, was tied up in one corner, and the recreant wife occupied an emnpty dry goods b)ox in the other. "Got 'em last night at 9 o'clock," said the husband, "and I've put in the whole dlay telling 'em what I think of such business. Guess I'd bet tor let 'em off now, hadn't I?" The officer thought so, and the neighbor, was released, led to the door, and the husband said; "Nowv you trot, and If you ever try to run away with my wife again I'll-I'll b)e hangedl if I don't go over and tell your wife about it!" Hie then turned to his wife,untied the cords, and said: "I guess you feel ashamed of this, and there ain't no neced to say any more about it. I ain't very mad this time, but if you try it again there's no knowing what I may do." "Well?" gasped the ofileer, as lie drew a long breath. "Well, didn't I git 'em?" ehuckled the husband, in proud delight. "I may look like a spring chicken, but I'm no fool, and don't yu fmrget tt" Daiol Webster's Visit to Queen Victoria. Daniel Webster, said Mr. Rogers, has been sitting with us and we enjoyed for an hour his delightful conversation. De clining an invitation from the Dowager Lady Charleville, and punctually at three o'clock, the hour named, Julia and myself left our lodging for Buckingham Palace. Alone and unattended, except, of course, by our footmanwe approached the royal residence, guarded about the porticos by "Yeoman of the Guard." We entered and ascended the grand and stately marble staircase with no other companions than its inmerous attend ants ranged on each side, even to the door of the mirrored saloon where her Majesty war. Mr. Webster and Mr. Charles Murray were awaiting our ar rival at the doorway. The Lord Chain berlain instantly advanced and signified briefly that it was the qieen's pleasure we should immediately approach the royal presence and make our devoirs. This we did in the best way we were able, the Queen in the most gracious manner acknowledging our courtesies, and pronouncing ill a loud and distinct voice our separate names. I soon per ceived by cortain motions that some thming was about to occur. Lady Forbes and others, who were near me at tie doorway, instantly retreated "en face" into the adjoining room and formed a line on each side. Through this the Lord Chamberlain appeared, backing forward, followed by others il olhice an1d about the household. Soon the Queen appeared, and from the opposite gallery, ilto whiCh he had backed, appeared the royal family, including the Duke amid Duchess of Cambridge, and Princess Augusta. They advanced, placed them selves in line, and her majesty embraced them all, kissing each. She then passed on, saluting others stationed each side, and entered the dancing room. Tie throe room was the dancing room; the Queen commenced tho-hereditary Duke of Saxe Weimar. Her majesty was dressed with great simplicity, ill a white tulle over white satin, trimmed with piuk roses, and pink roses in her hair, and a diamond necklace looped behind in the braids of her hair, and a diamond fieniero. Mrs. Webster appeared to have enjoyed the royal dinner. Two bands were playing in adjoining apart ments. The Queen was first helped oil all occasions. At the close of the din nor the Queen's health was drank, all stam:ing, she alone sitting and bowing all around during the ceremony. Mr. Webster had a long conversation with her majesty, and thought her intelligent and agreeable. She is also said to be enegertie anud with a decided will of her own. On a recent occasion she thus replied to Lords Melbourne and Palmer ston, who were urging her on some point to which she was averse: "What is the use of being a queen if one cannot do as one likes ?" Her majesty appeared to highly enjoy tihe dance, and was ready with her little foot forward to commence the first mo ment the music sounded. As the Prin cess Victoria, she was celebrated for her charming singing with the piano forte, but as queen these accomlhish mlenlts are considered as uindignmified, and~ her voice is now heard only in the pri vacy of her own closet, and niever inl the drawing-rooms of the Palace, as form erly. Eatinug Lea1ther. Th'le steamship Nebro from Rio Janeiro lately fell ill with thme bark Tiger, sevenity-seveni days oult, and shlort of provisions. She sup~pliedl her crew who were inl a mlost deplorable condition, having sustained life for several days on strips of leather soaked in lamp oil unltil tihe oil gave out, and then Oil the Cap tain's dog, after which, there was nlothl ing hut cannibalisnm aind deathl staring them in the face. To addl to the~ir suif fo'ring two vessels paissed several dlays before witin a shlort distance, but paid no0 attentionl to their signals of distress. As the steamer Nebo came up with tile TIiger thley saw thme latter lowering a boat. After somne moments of hard straggling shle enmie alongside. Her oe cup)ants were dlresse'd in oilskins and evidently very weak. "'What do you want?'' sang otut Cap tin Gordon. "We are starving to death, w~e are starvinlg to dleath,'' exclaimed the imant inl the sterai shooets excitedhly. "Dlid youl say you were starving?" de manuded the Captain agaimii Sm urprise. "Yes; we arc starving. See this is all we have hlad to eat inl ni10 dlays." Hie held aloft the skinl of a dlog, anid oine of the menci held uip a picce of boot leather. ''God help us,'' exelaimedl Captain Gordon, "'COimo on b)oard( right away, andl we will do what we enn for you." A ladder was thlen lowered and the men hlelped aboard the Nebo and given food. The young Germn Commnander of no Tiger told the Captain of tile Nobo lhe had1( been 124 (lays oult from Liverpool with a carg~o of common salt, and lie hasd been inl a mo1(st dreadful conditionm: lie was bound inlto Balt imnoro, and mao Cape henry early in .Janmary, and was blown off the shore inito tihe gulf stream. Front that time lie hiad been tossedl hlithler and thither by time winds and clurrents. Ho had twelve moni before the mast, all of whiomn had displayed the ultmost fortitudoe unider the inuost tryinig cirotmstancesi. The provisions rani abort, one monthi an. thaon bemo may . oMt l then the bread. Nine days ago, that. is, nine days, before that spoken of by the Nebo the list drop of water was drank, and thri three days later everything, even to boot's and shoes, had been do voured. They were literally without a bite or sup. The Captain's dog lad been killed, skinned aid eaten, and ther lots were cast for the cat. The poo beaist wis saved by the Captain lumself, who besought the men not to destroy it. The stalrving men spared the cat, cut ni their boots,soaked strips in lamp oil an( ate tleml. This horrible food gave out, and then the poor wretches eyed caic other suspiciously and hungirily, and would havo killed the cat could they havo found it, but the Captain hid it, and the panugs of hunger wero unap peased for five days. Some of the mue: meditated suicide. God knows how many of them thought of murder and eannibailism. Had the steamer not comt to the rescule, the CIItaill of the Tiger said lie thought soIlethilg moreo terriblc than starvation would have been enalet ed oil board. The Nebo ment at monthi'm provisions o board. When the first boat load arrived,the mate leaped aboard the Tiger eatng a biscuit. le was poiuced upon by his ihipmates, who literally fougit like dogs for the crackei then they rushed upon other provisions and tore them in the maie way 1as fain isied wolves might. have done. The of ficer of the Nebo adds- We got provis ions4 oil board and sot them at large one more. They shook tle reefs out of their top sails, set their top gallant sails, anid steered in our wake. She was right aft, but. the vessels bottom wats so full of har n1les she could not make much head way. She was ahl to get along, how ever, and when last we saw her she was signaling adiens and tlanks Pminin1g for Exerelse. An ordinary looking traveler wient into the dining hall at the Union Depot, In dianopoliB, carrying a nice satchel. He walked ip to the counter, put down the Hatelel, called for a Cup1) of coffeo and a piece of pie, whichl he devoured. Leav ing the satchel by the counter lie aiaunt ered to the other side of the room, and entered into conversation with a gentle matn there. A policeman coming in aind seeing the itchel apparently without an owner picked it up, and said: "Hello, anyone know anything about this keystor ?" "That's mine," said the traveler. "Better take care of it. or some ono will steal it. ''Oh, 1 guess not; I'm ain old trave ler." The policeman walked on; in a few minutes in came1 at dapper little man,look ed carelessly walked over to it, careless ly picked it up, and was going for the door when the owner sang out: ''Hello! where you going ?" Going to it hotel." "Well, what lire you doing with that satchel?" going over to him. "That's my satchel hand it over." But the d. 1. l. held oil to it, and without any ado the traveler knocked him down a time or two, and was p)roceeding to polish him off nicely when interrupted by the p)olicemnan, who separtated the rnien, anld whlile receiving an explanation from tile straniger, tile thief escaped. The trave ier pult his satcliel down bly tile coiuter, whlere it'was before, anld went to tile Other side0 of the room to lonltinlue tile conlversation. The p)oliceman eyed the Ratcelc, then the man, and1( walking over to him saild: "'Nbw, seC hlere, whlat do you1 meani by leavinig that bag over. thlere; wvhat sort of game is thlis anyway ?" "W~ell, I've been traveling for over six weeks,and I'mi pinling for a little genl tle exercise, thalt's all,'' said1 tile trave ler, Travela (If an1 Eyje-Stonel Rulfus Miller-, is a wvell known farmer living att Mcihan)iestown, Conn). Sonme five or six year-s aigo,just before retiring, Mr. Miller p)laced in hlis eye whlat was known~ as an eye-stonio, for tile purplose oIf removinig ai mote, ats 110 had frequent ly done before. For thie benefit (If those (of our readers who may unot know wht an eye-stonle is, we will explainl. It is a1 smalll, whito, rounid 511l1, ablout4 thlree sixteenths of ani inch11 ill diam)Ietelr, con cave On on10 side, con1vex (on the othier and1( quiito tin. It is taiken from tile hiead of the Crab1, on1( b)eing found under eachl eye of that erustaceanl. InI the nmornling whien Mr. Miller awvoko he con11a nIot finld tile stone, Hie miade aI (carefuil anud thtoroiugh scaireb, bult all in was gone for good. -Not long ago lb felt a hard growth on1 tile end( of tihe little finger oIf his righlt hand. He sho0w 0(1 it to 801mo friends, whoC coneluided it wvas a wart and ad(visedl im to lot it alone. He( d1id un~til 50ome time ago, when it bega- to.1)0 sore, and 110 commened~ picking at it. lie soon found out that some hiardl substance wats un1der theoskin, and1, (digginig away, 110 finally took out his long-lost eye-atone. Ho examined it so carefully thlat there can1 be no' mis take. Ho now recollects thmat at 011e time lie experienced a con)sideble sore ness in1 his wrist, and1( suppose at thAt p~eriodl the stone was prossing~ in that direction, How this bit of carbonate of 1l1me ever made that long journey with. out being lost or absorbed is a mnystery. That it did so there cn be no doubt. ne The Wonderful Biridge.f One bright morning in Juno, grandma was standing by the south window of the sitting room, looking at the groat apple trees in neighbor Evan's garden. The green leaves were rustling in the mor'ning breeze, but it was not the leaves at which she was looking just then.The children wanted to know what it was that she saw, and she pointed to a slender thread that stretched from the ground up, through the goldon sunshine to one of the leafy boughs far up on tho big tree. and glistened like a line of sil vor as it waved in the breeze. ''What is it ?" cried the children in a chorus. "Such a long, long spider's web, "said grandma. "A wonderful bridge," said papa. 'Little Madam Araohnid was up in thotree there, and wanted to got down to the ground. so instead of jumping down and getting bruised, and going way round and climbing down the trunk of the tree, she made that pretty bridge." "How Could sh ma111ke it," aketd the children. 'Well,'' saitt papa, "she alwayg car ries with her a little factory-over so many little spinner" "lose together-and when sho wants a . Igo, a little thread, ao fine you could see it starts from each spinner. She puts perhaps a thousand of the gossamer threads together, and they make the beginning of a 'rope,' like tiat. you see yonter. Tien she glues the end of the rope to tie limb of the tree, and jumps off into the air and swings down toward the ground, the s.pinners working as fast. as they can,and the shining rope growing longer and longer, and the breezeblowing her gent ly away from the tree. Whel she reaches the ground, she breaks off the rope close to the little factory, and fastens it to some stick or spear of grass. All this she does am (ilick as we can tell of it. Whenl she wants to go into the tree again, she runs up the ropes as easily as you go u1p the stairs; and if she wants to prevent aiuy other spider from using her bridge, she untasthns the lower end and carries it with her, folding up the bridge as she goes over it I ''Sometimes, when the wind is blow ing, Madam Arachnid will fasten an end of her rope to a twig, and jumping off into the air will let the wind blow her like a kite across to another tree, and then she will have a bridge more won derful than anly susIIsiol bridge that man ever mado. Mrs. Spidor and Mr. Spider, and all the little spiders,ean run bac(kward and forward on this bridge as easily as you can run from one tree to another oi the garden walk; but if an unfortunate little fly should try to walk onl that same bridge, his feet would stick to it; he could not walk Onl it atf all, and he would have lots of trouble in get ting .away,and perhaps would stick there till the spiders caie out and ate him upl." "Do they miake anything besides bridges out Qf those bright threads ?" asked Willio. "Yes," said papa. "they ma~ke a great vatrie'ty of traps and snares to catch flies and b~ugs anmd oth~er little creatures. Did you never see cobwebsa on the bushtes or in the corner of a room ?" "W~illie: "Yes, sir. Are they made thle same11 way this is, and are all webs traps?" Papa: "Yes, my boy they are made of tile samo silky thiread1s as this bridge tied together so as to make a snare or trapl, for tile spiders are great hunters and trapplers. In hot couintries, where the very large, poisonous spidera live, they somietimes bulild their webhs strong enou~gh to catch birds andt small snakes. Sometimes youl will see a thick web madeo in tihe shape of a rond-ltube. Thon it is not a trap), but is tihe spider's hiouso.' Willie :'"Do people uise spidler wtebs for anything ?" Papa: "A humndred y'ears ago a French man made a plair of gloves anld a pair' of stockings of tihe silk from a spider; and the silk is sometimes uised in every deli cate secintifle inistrunment, such as suir veyor's telescopes. Cobwebs made by hiouso sp)iders are somectimies used 4% medicine, anid arc useful to sto!. bhi ing from cuts, etc." Inicaatins or tile W',eather. The color of the sky at particular times affords wond~erful good guidance. Not only a rosy sunuset prosages good weathler, but there are other tints which speak with equal clearness and alcuracy. A bright yellow sky in the evoning inl dientes wind; a pale yellow, wet; a lneu tral gray color constitutes a favorable oneO in the morning. Tihe clouds are again flull of meaning in themselves. If thecir forms are soft, undefined, full and feathery, the weathler will be fine;~i their edges arc hard, sharp aind definite, it will be foul. Generally speaking, any deep, unusual lues betoken wind and rain; while the more quiet amnd delicate tints bespeak fair weather. It is verf~ true, however, that all signs in regard to the weather sometimes are deceptive and fall. Words are nice things, but thley strike hard, We wield them so very easily that we are apt to forget their hidden power, Fftly spoken, they fall lke the sunshline, tihe dew andtho'sumnmer rain - but when unlfitly, like the frost, the hal andl the desolatinG teamnent. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. Change reldom, for changes are incon voient. Ifooks alone can never teach the use of books. Choleric men sin in haste and repent at leisuro. Better to slip with the foot than the tongue. Bear, and blame not what you cannot change. Kind words are bald-headed. They can never dyo. Converse not upon subjecte which load to impure ideas. Consent to common custom, but not to common folly. Contend not with thy friend lest thou make him an enemy Consecrate to dod the first fruits of your daily thoughts. The best way to circulate a story is to try to keep it a secret. Quarrels would be short-lived if the wrong were only on one side. If you would not have afiliction visit yon twice, listen at once to that it teaches. Agriculture has not only given riches to a nation, but the only riches she can call her own. A noble part of overy true life is to learn how to undo what has beeni wrongly (lone. The moment a man begins to rise above his follows, lie becomes a iiark for their missiles. We don't throw bomb-shells at our rulers to destroy thon. We let office 4ookers torture them to death. There is a whole sermon in the Per iian saying, "1 In all thy qunarels leave the door open for reconeiiation." Undor the now management of the navy depnrtnent no oflicor will'he o)n titled to promotion until lie has had four wives. Good teniper is like a sunny day; it sheds a brightness over everything; it is the sweetener of toil and the soother of dis(uiietudo. The worthiest men are most injured by slanders ; as we usually find that to be the best fruit which the birds have been picking at. Bad temnper is its own scourge. Few things are bitterer than to-feel bitter. A milan's volom poisons himself more h1an1 his victim. To pronounce a man happy moroly be eauso he is rich, is just as absurd as to all a man halefthy ineroly because he has ooigh to eat. A sad truth, half of our forebodings aUbout our neighbors are but our own wishes, which we are ashamed toutter in any other form. Stories first heard at & mother's knee iro never wholly forgotten, a little 4pring that never dries up on you jour iey through scorching years. . The business of life is to go forward; to who sees evil in prospect meets it on lie way; but he who catches it by re rospection, turns back to find ib. Man's value is in proportion to what 1to has coufageously suffered, as the valne of the stool blade is ill proportion :o the tempering it has undergone. Lot us be what we are, and speak wlat we think, and in all things what ioever, koop ourselves loyal to truth and Jhe sacred professions. of friendship. Sincority is like travoling in a plain beaton road, )vhich commonly brings a nant sooner to. his journey's end than )yways, inl which mn .often lose them ,elves. Affectation in any p~art of our carriage a lighting up a candloe to ou,r defects, md never fails to make "us to be taken Lotice of, either as waiting sense or wanting sincerity. Let us not forget that every -station ni life is .neossary ; that each deserves tur rcspecot; that not the station itself, but the worthy fulfilment of its duties lees honor to man. It is remarkable how iittle is needed in order to act.' The .power conmes of itself ; will and memory are all that is necssary ; but just for this reason so [ow know how to act. All useless misery is certainly folly, rind ho that feels evils before thoycomo may be deserycdly censured, yet surely to dread the future is more reasonable than to lament tlhe past. I am p~ersuadbed that many persons say more about their siihs being too great to be p~ardboned than they either believe or reel, from a supp)lostion that it is a token )f humility to talk thuns. 'Whether perfect, happiness would he secured by perfect goodness, -this world will never afford an opportunity of de siding, but this, at leas , may be main Lained, that we dd not always find visible virtue. Voltaire had a perfect iiorror of in isitivo persons. Ho said to one of persons-"M'ir, I am delighted to u, but I give you fair warning-I nothing about what you are going to ask'mo." It is not easo, but effort, not smooth uess, but difficulty, . that makes men. I'here is no stationm in life in which diftl suhties have not to be encountered andl vercomo before any decided measure of umecess can be achieved.'' Lo nover 'tires ; and thme more we love the more we have of solid satisfao Lion. Every now souml we come in con.. tact with and learn to .esteem, fills us with n)ow% life. Those who love othera ire themselves full of sunshine.* There is scarcely a single joy or sor row within the experience of our fellow Lreatures which we have not tasted, yet thQ, belief in the good.and the beautiful has novo'r forsaken us. It has .been wmedioineo ini sickness, richness ini poverty, rind the best part of all that ever de lighted us in health and success. There is great difference between the \ two temporal blessings, health and \ wealth. Wealth is most envied, but Least enjoyed ; health-is (requently en joyed, but the least .envied ; amnd .the superiority of the l'atter is still more ob niou's that the poorest man *dal~d not part with his hialth foi~ money,- bfit-the richest would gladly part with his iioney orm halth.,