1882-08-10; Saline Observer

              ZEM
jbeen step-
tehead. One
each other
lou ought to
Fted on their
yard -walk.
I blackest of
ig gold.
|ots, a white
lis eyes-were
on happy
Irinimed-wfch
>w boots and
|st, -with red
cap.   They
other bride
first jour-
ki now that
ice oMroos-
N
only down
housekeep-
jinningthey
new; the
|fchay; there
•nests, and
land talk up
|w and clap
]ts* eontent,
work was
log or cat or
four.
It have been
pis from the
rosght them    ,
|ty_hiJCrronT
Iked forth in
they picked
|d cucumbers,
around and
Ipeof a worm,
fund than he
She would
ther obedient
\y having the
p.eh or dinner,
gate open,
tafewstraw-
fesert. So they
be honeymoon
lit to work in
|c the whitest,
ou ever saw;
Ihought so, as
jiade about it.
one eye and
lit last set up
lafe you would
Ithe egg him-
teut, and very
ft lay up any-
lly called out,
pock-a-doodle-
ome running
N.t slyly off.
kd, aad soon
lehindabeam,
fey agreed that
pM about the
j>syhadaf}ne
fall her own,
tickens and a
kge and hro-
Innerofhens,
I three weeks*
jised often to
**ork.   Some-
Iht the  egg3
had a good
J in the egging on inside.
Itient, Topsy,
pp-jy said,
•> a rooster to
lyou sit here
|ey had their
brought  a
made it np..
psy heard a.
iother.    She-
Ind there she>
J, with bright-
After awhile
Iced, and soon,
fhickens filled
and
[re a mixture
begin to tell
ad Airs. Bed-
walked out-
II stop to ex-
first chick--.
lat happened
fcppened, but
[together for
or worms
J the twelve
19 they were
|w together,
ack to their
; chirped and
p, but Topsy
|ceatur6eam&
Irthesa. Its
heir mother's
|pped crying*
each other's
They slept
bing, when
lekens, what
II know you
lby the cat.
le family o*
^ries of the
r& farmed
¥v. ered them
fred them to
[what sharp
lien by that
lary into the
Itherearow?
labby's back
lied at angry
light of pos-
phicks were
|iem? Twas
poor chicks
lection.   At
|law settled
I man, seized
ltae house,
Ifc?.   'Sapsy
I wiag3 and!
|yard cartas
'"   Aials
id echoed,
[my, T&pay
appy ever
teiylng.
16 Magoz-
[gr£fi. 645 J
to resist
ions that
re of the
Iraeterises
[mid read,,
nautical
ractice of"
a very/
"better*-
fe secure*
VefleetW   /
Itinr-s^
lfcfcer end"
"e sold by
Ih-of-July
lof pistols
1 boys left
re is time
persons
13 in the
mmmmmm
smsssmmmmmm^mmramm
msssassm
ImtimM&mmatmMammim*^^
Saline
NISSLY & EMMERT, Publishers.
SALINE, WASHTENAW COUNTY, MICHIGAN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 10, 188.
VOL. II. NO. 89.
BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
PROFESSIONAL.
g^ W. CHANDLER, M. D.,
Physician and Surgeon.
All calls promptly- attended to.  Office at residence, first door north of M. E. Church.
Q: 0. JENKINS,
Surgical -and Mechanical
DENTIST.
Office, 19 South Main Street, opposite Erst
~ Rational Bank,
J^xin. Arbor,   -  Miioii.
I.   . I:.
i       !j
i'' '"'I
; -'■ i
t   'I
H
S      i
i i
11
I A
)J>
i
■\
• \
i >
i   I
s*~
1
JJ)   P. MTcLACEXAN,
Physician and Surgeon,
'-Office and residence opposite SI. E. Church,
Adrian street, Saline, Mich.
"gf JONES & SON,
Attorneys.
All kinds of legal papers neatly- and correctly
drawn. Collections made and promptly remitted.   Office on Mc Kay street, Saline, Mich.
E. Jokes. *   "PbakkE. Jones.
TXT2L B. G-ILDART,
Attorney at Law,
And Justice of the Peace.   Office overNichols
Bro's. store, Chicago street, Saline, Michigan.
\7r7- E. B-Cnffi-KHREY,
Rea! Estate Agent.
Government Lands located. 20,000 acres of
choice wheat lands for sale. Correspondence
solicited.   Ellsbury, Barnes Co., D. T.
2EISCELLANE0US.
Mrs. W. F. LARZELERE,
The Old and Reliable
DRESSMAKER and CUTTER
Again offers her services to the ladies or
this vicinity.
PH-ICSS I^El^i.SOjSr^AuSILiSI
and Satisfaction Guaranteed.     Shop at
residence on Henry street, west.
CEO. §?. SHERMAN,
The old and reliable
Wagon and Carriage Maker,
Job work and repairing promptly done at reasonable rates.   Shop onChicag-o rft., west.
ItiYRON WEBB,      v
JUSTICE  OF THE  PEACE,
And Ins-axaii.ee Agent.
COSV*EV*ANGI**G ATTENDED TO PR03IPTLT.
Special Attention. Given to Collections.
Office 2d door west of the postoffice.
E. A, REYNOLDS. .
Notary Public, Real  Estate,
INSHKAXC*- A5D CO-LLEOiriONAGENC:'*.
OQiee over X. 0. Putnam & Cb'S- store, iMilan,
Mich.   AU business entrusted to me will
receive pr.)ini)i atEeutton.
JFa-ti-o-aLiss     Tiie    Boys I
HAUSER& CLARK,
Proprietors of
THE NEW LIVERY STABLE,
 At the	
OLD AMERICAN HOUSE BARN.
THOMAS ECCLES,
The Pioneer
BOOT AND SHOE MAKER,
Is now located in the Burg building, on
Chicago St., where he will be'glad to see all
his old customers and many-new ones.
impairing Neatly and Promptly Done.
W. HELLER & SON.
Horse Shoeing & Blaeksmifhing
If your horse forgss, interferes or i3 irregular
in his gait, give us a call and we will regulate hiui so he will not anoy you.
Special Attention Given
To horses having weak and diseased feet.
SHOP OX aKX ARBOR STREET.
GEORCE   EHNiS.
.Merchant Tailor and Cutter.-
I have a full line of satnp les of goods carried
Toy a leading" eastern jobbing house, which I
■willfurni3hmy customers at
-VvTHIOXj-EISA.XjE! I'KrXCEI-
II buy my trimmings of jobbers and give my
•customers the benefit Eon't buy anything in
rthe clothing line until you have examined my
samples and got my pi-ices. I will save you
nnoney. All work warranted. Shop over Davenports & Son's store.
A. S- BLITOI*. W, E. JSBtXXi.
BLITOM & ISBELL,
PHOPBXEXOBS OE THE
Livery, Sale and Feed Stables,
STAGE AKD EBAY LINES,
Office,   South Front Street,  West Broadway,
-EQWEB CITY, DAKOTA.
Stages to  Ellsbury, Hope and Lybeclc leave
every Tuesday.   land Hunter's Outfits always furnished at reasonable rates,
A WOMAN-3 WISH.
QCHAIEER & SCHMIDT,
Proprietors of the Union Block
MEAT   IAEEET.
— All lrinds of —
MEAT,POULTRY, FISH ETC
At Lowest Mving-Prices.  No. 2, Union Block,
saline, Michijran
FIEE, MEE,  EIEE!
-oOo-
Protect yourselves against logs b  Arc, by
insuring property with
W. H. DAVENPORT, Agent
For the following first-class
companies:
:KIX&.G-.&21A, of New York,
CONTINENTAL, of N. Y.,
Detroit FIRE & MARINE
1SSITS, $6,000,000
Losses Paid Promptly.
RATES AS   LOW AS ANY
First-class Company.
"Would I were lying in a field of clover,
Ot clover cooland soft, and Boftacd sweet,
With dusky clouds in deep skies hanging
ov#r.
And scented silence at my head and feet.
Just for one hour to slip the leash of Worry
In eager haBte from Thought's impatient
neck,
And watch its coursing—in  its heedless
hurry—
Disdaining Wisdom's whistles, Duty's beck!
Ahl it were sweet, where clover-clump3 are
meeting,   "
And daisies hiding, sa to hide and rest;
No sound, except my own heart's steady
beating,
»     Booking itself to steep within my breast.
Just to lift ther«, filled with the deeper
breathing
That conms or listening to a free bird's
song!
Oar souls require at times this full unsheathing—
All swords will rust if acabbard-kept too
long.
And I am tired! so tired of rigid duty!
So tired of all iny tired hands find to do!
I yearn, I faint, for some of life's free beauty,
Its loose beads with no straight string
running through!
Aye, laugh, if you will, at my crude speech—
• But women sometimes die of such a greed;
Die for the small joys held beyond their
reach,
And tho assurance they have all they need I
—Mary AsMey Townsend.
KOT ASHAMED.
BX MART E. BKUSH.
'Your pappy would have liked it,
I' m sure, for he was allers such a hand
for eddieation. He was a fine scholar
hisself; yet, for all that, he never looked down on me who knowed nothing.
Yes, your pappy was allers good to
me. You've often heard me say that,
Resinaldy.'
•Yes, indeed, mother,' Seginalda replied.
One could see at a glance that this
mother and daughter were different.
Little Mrs, Leigh's face, brown, wrinkled, and with a touch of healthy red
on the cheeks, 'bore no traces of more
than ordinary intelligence, mingled
with country simplicity and native
good tumor. Her short, dumpy form,
clad in a faded calico dress, moved
from stove to press-board, for she'was
just giving the finishing touches to a
newly made pair of pantaloons.
Now, as perhaps some of you have
Gften noticed, a tailoress is frequently
depicted as a bold, energetic creature,
as though working on so many masculine garments had caused her to absorb somewhat of the nature of the
manly wearers. Bat little Mrs. Leigh
was not of this kind; for, although during the past ten years she had made
coats, vests, and pantaloons by the dozen, she was still the same timid, humble, insignificant little body that she always had been.
Keginalda washer daughter. A tall,
graceful young girl, whose large, dark
eyes and" abundance of curly, black
hair contrasted prettily with a delicate
pink and white complexion. Keginalda wore faded calico, too; but somehow it fitted her nicely and the collar
about her neck was always so neat that
one quite forgot to criticize the rest of
her attire.
Keginalda's father had belonged to a
very aristocratic family. It nearly
caused a fainting fit all around when it
was discovered that a Leigh had actually married a shop-girl! Reginald a's
mother had been Mary Ann Srown, a
humble, but yery respectable little
body, whose bright, mode3t ways had
won the heart of Reginald Leigh, thp
young artist, whose democratic notions, even before this, somewhat estranged him from his high-born relatives.
Tha two were married and lived happily, in spite of what some folks say
about equality of intellect and congeniality of souls.
Four years after the birth of Begin al-
da the father died, leaving his young
widow penniless. She was a plucky
little creature, after all, and, making
no appeal for aid from the relatives of
her deceased husband, she set bravely
to work. She was blessed with good
nealth and kind patronage, and in a
few years she had laid by quite a pile
of money. Like many others who patiently tread this terrestrial ball, her
highest ambition, next to serving God,
was to see her daughter a lady.
Reginalda had always been passionately fond of her books, and when
she was informed of her mother's intention to send her to boarding school,
she was nearly wild with delight.
A few simple preparations were
made, and in less than a month she entered the Brookdale Seminary. It was
the third week of the term, and the
other pupils, having become acquainted among themselves, immediately centered their attention upon the newcomer,    I
Reginalda bore their scrutiny pretty
well. There was a quiet dignity about
her that won respect and repelled undue familiarity. Her garments were
few and of simple make and material;
but her fine figure, blooming color, and
beautiful face made her appear to better advantage than did her more richly
attired companions. After it became
accidentally known that she was related to the Leighs, oi Lowell, she was
treated with considerable distinction.
All of the teachers and most of the pupils loved her, for she wa3 kind, gentle,
unassuming and obliging. Still she
had her enemies.
There was Rhoda Brown, a tall,
handsome girl, who, up to the time of
Reginulda's arrival, had enjoyed the
proud distinction of having the most
perfect lessons. Then there was the
pet of the school, Dora Gray, a plump,
dimpled little miss, whose blue eyes,
golden hair, and pink and white complexion made her look like the sweet-
eat bit of innocence one ever saw. But
little Dora's bosom heaved with wrath
when she saw that her pretty, simper-
iug ways were quite at a discount since
this earnest* straightforward girl, Reginalda Leigh, had come. Lastly, there
was flirting Kitty Fowler, who was
deeply angry at some fancied injury
the newcomer had committed against
her. The trio tried in every possible
way to make Reginalda uncomfortable.
'Why, Rhoda, what is the matter?
You look as black as a thunder cloud!'
said Kitty Fowler, one day, as her
room mate hurried in, flinging slate
and books upon the floor with an angry bang. *
'lam mad!' was the emphatic reply.
•Mad? Well, that's nothing new.
You have been wrathy most of the
time lately. Sit down on the trunk,
and I'll comfort you with a piece of
oocoanut cate. There, munch away
and unburden your wounded spiiit,'
'Well, then,' said Rhoda, nibbling
away at the bit of cake—'well, thtn,
it's chat Reginalda Leigh! I just hate
the girl!'
'And so do I.   I can't bear these su
psrior people!   But on what particular
corn of yours has she trod just now?'
'Not on one particular corn, my dear,
but on the whole foot. If you believe
it, she is to read the essay at our Musical!'
-Rhoda!' and Kitty's voice was full
of surprise. 'Why that honor ought
to be youi"3. What did Madame Sargent say ?•'
'She said,' and Rhoda's voice was
full of rancor—'she said that Miss
Leigh had been the mo3t perfect in deportment and studies, and that the
honor cf reading the essay undoubtedly belonged to her.' I was so mad that
I walked right out of the library, without saying another word, and I'm sure
Madame black-marked me for the rudeness; but I don't care. I only wish I
could show that Leigh girl up for
what she really is, and I don't believe
that she is much!'
'Nor do I believe it, either,' said Do-"
ra Gray, who had just entered the
room. 'Look how shabbily she dresses!
Never wears-a bit of jewelry! If she
has fine relatives, why don't they visit
her or send her a box of goodies now
and then? She's a stuck-up mystery,
that's all, and I'd like to bring her
down a peg.'
Dora had quite forgotten the fact that
her own father was once a butcher's
boy, who. afterwards attained his
wealth by slaughtering herds of west
ern cattle and sending the canned beef
to Europe.
Reginalda, all unconscious ol how
jealously she was regarded by the three
spiteful girls, pursued her own quiet
way, studying hard, that she might
successfully pass her examination, and
giving all her spare time to the preparation cf>her essay.
'I hop*e that I shall acquit myself
creditably,' she said to herself. -It
will help me to get a position as teach
er. Besides, the little mother will be
so pleased. Oh, dear! If I only bad
money to buy her a black silk dress,
with a bit of fine lace, like Madame's,
then she could come to the Musical.
But I hardly believe she would come,
after all. She is such a shy little body,
bles3 her!' sighing and smiling.
Reginalda was mistaken. Little Mrs.
Leigh had received Madame Sargent's
dainty, cream-tinted, violet-scented in
vitation to the Musical, and was in a
great flutter as to whether she ought er
Gught not to accept it.
'It does seem as though Providence
had app'inted me to go,' she quoth to
herself. 'I have just finished Deacon
Podger's pants and Spencer Cole's vest,
and hain't a single job on hand.
Them currants is made inter jell an' all
the house cleaned up. 'Tain't but
three hours' ride to Brookdale,anyhow,
and I think that poppy would like to
have me hear Reginaldy speak her
piece. Well, I do believe I'll spunk up
for once and go. My! Won't Reginaldy
be s'prised when see sees me!'
The evening of the Musicale came.
Rhoda, Kitty and Dora had gone down
into the garden, to get a few flowers
for their hair.
The garden was a pretty place, -with
its sparkling fountain and with scores
of gaily colored Chinese lanterns lighting up the winding walks and gay parterres of flowers.
Juit as Kitty was stooping to pick a
cluster of vivid scarlet gerauiums the
gate latch clicked.
The three girls hastily glanced up.
There stood the quaintest little old
woman they had ever seen. Short and
stout; wearing a scanty, rnsty olack
silk dress, shiny and siimsy, cut with
the short, shirred and pointed waist of
forty years before; a faded shawl; an
old-fashioned bonnet, trimmed with
drab ribbon and a green veil; a wide
muslin collar; a pair of brown cotton
gloves, considerably darned at the fingers, completed the toilet of the newcomer.
She looked at the three girls in a
wondering, admiring manner, and then
in timid tones she said:
•This is Brookdale Seminary, ain't
it?'
'Yes, ma'am. Is there anything we
can do for you ?' Rhoda inquired politely.
'Well, you see I got my invite to the
Musicaly, and I thought I'd come. My
daughter (she's dre ful smari) is to
speak a piece. P'rha^s you know her
—Reginaldy—Reginaldy Leigh,' with a
little thrill of pride in her tone.
Dora giggled, and Rhoda smiled
wic&edly, as she replkd:
'Oh, yes, ma'am, we are well acquainted, with Miss Reginalda. I would
take you to her now, but she is probably very busy. It is about time for the
Musical to begin, and, if you will allow
me the pleasure, I will escort you into
the school-room and get you a seat'
•Rhoda! Rhoda! Surely you don't
mean to go into the schoolroom with
that old dowdy tagging after us?' Kitty
whispered.
'To be sure I do. We have no need
to be ashamed. And if you feel a desire for revenge we'll have it now, I
fancy our haughty Reginalda won't
read that wonderful essay of hers with
such rolling oratory when she sees that
ignorant old Mrs. Noah sitting in the
front row.'
'Ho! ho! That's it, is it? And Kitty
laughed long and low, aad then, sid
ling up to Mrs. Leigh, who had been
staring with wondering eyes at the
many-colored lanterns and other decorations, she said:
•Have"you a boquetfor your daughter? You know it is the custom here
to fling flowers on the stage '
■Is it? Fur the land sakes! But we
hain't going back by the stage but on
the cars.'
Rhoda and Dora tittered; but Kitty,
suppressing her amusement, said: You
misunders'and me, ma'am. When the
person who comes out to read, sing or
ploy, has finished, it is customary for
her Mends to throw flowers on the
platform where she stands. It is a sort
of an honor, you know.'
«I wish I had knowed it,' said little
Mrs. Leigh, sorrowfully. 'I could have
brought a bunch of posies from home
just as well as not.'
'Well, suppose you pick some now,
right here. Madame wont care one
bit," said Kitty. 'What kind of flowers does Reginalda prefer?,
'I really disremembe,:. When she
was a little tot, though. »ne was a master hand for hollyhocks.'
'The very thing,' said Kitty, with a
wink at the other girls, that nearly sent
them into convulsions, 'Right round
by the kitchen door, Mrs. Leigh, there
is a whole bed of hollyhocks.'
Thus, armed with a huge bunch of
the gorgeous red and yellow blossoms,
Mro. Leigh timidly followed her guides
into the long school-room.
Walls, ceiling, pillars and chandeliers adorned with festoons of ivy* Gay-
colored flags, wreaths, baskets, and
boquets of exquisite flowers, brilliant
lights, crowds of ladies in silks and
jewels, and gentlemen in broadcloth
and white kids, and a rustling, low,
musical chattering. No wonder little
Mrs. Leigh felt strangely out of place.
'I almost wished I hadn't come. Everything is so fine,' she thought. 'Still,
Reginaldy will be glad to see me. 1
think—'
Here" a burst of music interrupted
her musings.
One elegantly dressed girl after another came out and played, or sung or
gave a recitation. A printed program
had been thrust into the mother's hand
and after sundry rubbings of her silver-
rimmed spectacles, she at length found
Regmalda's name, away down at the
end of the list.
.. At last a tall, graceful figure stepped
out upon the stage—Reginalda; her
proud, pretty face just a little flushed
and with a bright, eager look in her
dark eyes.
Her dress was simple. Only a plain
white muslin. A little lace-trimmed
fichu crossed on the bosom, and adorned there with a cluster of blush roses.
Her neatly written essay in her hand,
and just before she opened it and while
she was making her graceful courtesy
she took a rapid survey of the audience.
There was Senator B , his wife
and sister-in-law, the famous authors.
There was Dr. Aylesbury, the keen,
sarcastic critic; Judge Larned, too, and
Mr. Paul LeDuc, the editor of the city
paper.
Reginalda lost none of her self possession at the sight of these formidable critics. Bat just beside the smiling faces of Rhoda, Kitty and Dora,
she beheld some one else, an old fash
ioned little woman, whom most of the
audience were regarding with amusement.
Now was the hour of triumph her
enemies had anticipated. Who can tell
what emotions surged through the
young girl's being? Deep indignation,
.mortification', and an insane desire to
rush away and forever hide herself.
Her essay had been carefully prepared ; she had been sure of winning honor
by it; but who would care to applaud
her now? How odd and shabby her
mother looked.    Her mother!
Back came a swelling tide of love and
filial devotion. It was her mother, the
mother God had given her. What
right had she to be ashamed of the woman who had worked so hard to give
her a chance?
Reginalda drew herself up proudly,
opened her essay and began to read.
She had chosen her theme wisely, had
treated it well, and, when she had finished, the audience showed their approval by a thundering round of applause. Gracefully bowing her thanks,
she was about making her exit, when
there was flung at her feet a huge *bo-
quet of gay hollyhocks. At the same
time a little page placed before her a
basket of exquisite roses and lilies, the
gift of the auchoress.
A half-suppressed giggle from Rhoda,
Kitty and Dora had accompanied the
first offering; but, apparently, not the
least embarrassed, Reginalda, in a low
whisper, bade the boy carry the basket
to her room, and then, picking ud the
bunch of hollyhocks she stepped off the
stage and came down to where the
little mother smilingly awaited her.
'Te he! We thought we'd give you a
surprise!' said Kitty.
•Thank you for your kind intentions,'
said Reginalda, so politely that the
three girls slunk away considerably
crestfallen.
During the entire evening Keginalda
did not once falter from her duty. She
walked "about with her mother, introducing her to various acquaintances.
She bore with patience her mother's
blundering, unsophisticated remarks
and grammatical errors, and endured
with Spartan*like fortitude the harrowing sight of little Mrs. Leigh eating her
refreshments with a knife!
After all, you say it seems a little
thing to do. True; but then, heroism
is not measured by acts, but by the
will power it takes to perform those
acts.
'Dear me!' said Mrs. Leigh, the next
day, when she and her daughter were
on their homeward journey—'dear me!
I never had such a nice time in all my
life! You was so good to me, Reginaldy. How I wish your poppy had
been there. I did have sech a nice
time!' t
Long years afterward, when Reginalda sat by the bedside of that dying
mother and watched the cold, gray
shadows creep over the dear, homely
face, a sweet -peace and thankfulness
stole into her heart, as her thoughts
reverted lo that eventful tvening of
long ago—the eveniug that she was not
ashamed.—The Independent.
FOB TME CHILDREN.
A HINT.
When Lydia Newman's old Quaker
uncle saw that she had fastened her
pretty little Newport ties with poppy-
red ribbons he frowne'd and told her it
was not seemly. But Lydia laughed.
"I don't care for them myself,' she
said, "but I want my little boy to remember that his mother wore red bows
on her shoes.'
Who does not remember the pretty
things that '"mother" wore! Her dainty
laces, the pale lilac dresses, the ecent
of violets, the rose tusked under the
lace on her breast, seem half divine
when they become but memories to us.
•Mother" is "mother," be she gentle
or rough, but what a different ideal we
have when we recall how proud we
were when we brought our friends
home from school and rather surprised
them with her graceful, pretty ways.
Her hair was so soft, her eyes so tender, she talked so well, and knew how
to make a boy ieel at home. It was
not necessary to make excuses for her
and say she was so busy. The other
boys themselves praised her, and we
felt sorry for them because we knew
they must feel how much sweeter and
prettier she was than their mothers
could be.
It is wise for a mother to take time
to dress and be fair in her children's
eyes; to read for their sake, to learn to
talk well and to live in to-day. The
circle the mother draws around her is
more wholesome for the child than the
one he has to make for himself, and
she is responsible for his social surroundings. It is not easy to be the
child's most interesting companion
and to make home his strongest magnet, but the mothers who have done
this have been the mothers of good
men.—Our Continent.
ONE STICK AT A TIME.
Highly intelligent darling: '-The
robbers can't steal my mamma's earrings, 'cause papa's hidden them." Interested lady visitor: "Is that so, dear?
Why, where has he put them, I wonder ?" "I heard him say he's put them
up the spout, and expects th'ey will stay
there."
Boston Home Journal.
Coming home from school one day, I
found a large pile of wood before our
door.
"There's work for you, Willie," said
Ned Blake, the boy who was with me.
"Yottr father had better do as my
father does, hire a man to get it in. c It
is too much for a boy, mother says; and
it will take the whole of "Wednesday
afternoon. You -will have no time for
play. Now, Will, I would not do that I
tell you."
This was the substance of Ned's talk,
as we stood before the woodpile; and
the more he said, the higher it grew.
By the time he left me, I began to
think myself a poorly used boy, indeed.
"There is work for you, Willie," said
mother, as I sidled into the kitchen.
"Did you see that beautiful wood at
the gate as you came in?"
"I should think I did!"* I muttered to
myself, but said nothing aloud, only
asking how father was. He was ill,
and had been for many months; and
the family funds,I knew, were becoming
low.
"It is a monstrous pile," I at length
said, getting a glimpse of it from the
wiudow.
"So much the better for us, Willie,"
said mother, cheerfully, A long winter
is before us, you know."
Dinner was soon ready, the table
spread in tlie .little kitchen, and father
was helped out from the adjoining room
by his two little daughters, one on each
side. Father and mother sat down to
our frugal meal with thankful hearts,
I am sure; the girls chatted as usual,
while I sat brooding over that "awful
woodpile." I am afraid my chief dish
was a dish of pouts. Father asked me
several questions, but I took no part in
the pleasant table-talk.
"Well, my boy," said father, after
dinner, "there's that wood to be put in.
No school this afternoon, so you have
time enough. You had better do it the
first tbiDg."
"It will take the whole afternoon,"
I said coldly. "The boys are going
nutting."
I was not sine of this, but anything
in the way of an objection to the wood.
My father said nothing. Dear, dear
father! God forgive me for wounding
his feelings!
"Mother," I said, following her into
the pantry, "Ned Blake's father hires a
man to get his wood in. His mother
thinks it is too much for a boy to do.
Why does not father hire one ?"
"Ah!" said my mother, sadly, the
Blakes are better off than we. Your
poor father"—
Tears came into her eyes. She stopped. Mary ran in where we were, and
I, half ashamed of myself, escaped out
of the back door.
■Still, Ned Blake's words rankled in
me, and I thought it was too bad; nor
did the brisk west wind blow off the
fumes of the foolish grumbling which
made a coward of me. I sat down on
the wood-block with my hands in my
pockets, and shuffled my feet among the
chips in sour discontent.
"It is such a monstrous pile," I said
to myself a dozen times.
Presently out came mother. I jumped
up.
"Willie," she said cheerfully, "I
would go to work in earnest. You
will soon get it in."
"Itis so monstrous, mother," I said
in a self-pitying tone. "It will take
me forever, and half kill me in the bargain."
"Forever is a long, long while," she
said. "Come, let us look at the pile. It
is big, but ail you have to do is-to take
a stick at a time. That will not hurt
you, Willie, I am sure—only one stick
at a time: yet one stick at a time will
make that pile vanish quicker than you
think for, Willie.   Try it, now."
There was a kindness and yet a decision in my mother's tones which were
iriesistible. She could put even hard
things, or what we thought hard, in a
very achieveable light.
"Only one stick at a time!" I cried,
jumping up and following her. Eeally,
the pile seemed already to lessen under
this new mode of attack. "Only one
stick at a time! What need of a man
to do that? One stick at a time! If
Ned Blake could not do that, he was a
poor tool."
Ah! and a poor tool he proved to be.
My mother had got my mettle up, and
I boldly went to work.
"Father," said I, bolting into the
house at a later hour in the afternoon,
all in a glow, "please tell me what time
it is?"
"Eight minutes after three," answered he, looking at his watch.
"Whew!" I shouted, "and the pile is
mastered!"
Never did I feel such a strong and
joyous sense of the power of ""doing.
Finding mother, I put my arms around
her neck, and said, "Mother, I was a
naughty boy, but 'one stick at a time'
has cured me."
I did not then know the full value of
the lesson I had learned. Years of labor—successful labor—have since tested and amply proved its value. When
your work looks insurmountable and
you seem to have no heart to take hold
of it, as work many a time will, remember it is only one stick at "a time, and
go at it.
'-Dear Pollie."
Having been absent from town during the winter, I called soon after my
return upon my old friend, Mrs. H ,
whom I had missed seeing at my own
home a few days before. While ans
wering her frequent and interested in
quiries, I was startled and embarrassed by a brust of derisive laughter from
the adjoining room—thoroughly Irish
and as hearty as it was impudent. I
looked at my friend in surprise, but as
she seemed unconscious of my annoyance. I determined, after a moment's
pause, to disregard it, and went on with
the conversation. Presently, however,
I was again interrupted by rollicking
laughter, more contemptuous than before. It seemed to come from an Irish
servant who was exhausting herself
with mirth, quite out of breath she
could oikly gasp, "Oh! dear! I shall die
sure! Carry me outl Oh! Oh!"
Mrs. H —, doubtless, saw the indignant blood mounting to my temples,
for she exclaimed, "I think that wicked
bird is deceiving you! I had forgotten
| that you are yet unacquainted with
him. He is such an insolent rogue I
am obliged to keep him out of hearing
when I am receiving calls; but how
you must come into the sitting-room
and accept his apologies."
The moment we entered the room,
the bad parrot, from his cage in the
corner, cried out, in tones of "the deepest contrition, "Fair lady, pardon my
rudeness! Pardon,pardon,pardon, pardon!"
"Do forgive him," laughed his mistress, *'for he will shriek 'pardon' until you do."
When I graciously accorded the pardon" he appeared overwhelmed with
gratitude, and at once offered me a peanut. He was delighted to see me eat
it, and strutted round and round his
cage, screaming, "We wont go home till
morning, till daylight doth appear;"
and adding, "Oh, what. Oh, what, Oh,
what fun!"
I felt much flattered by the friendly
turn our acquaintance had taken, as I
was told that he was usually extremely disrespectful and ugly to visitors.
The anything but charming accomplishment by which hehad introduced
himself to my notice he had acquired
before Mrs. H -—purchased  him,
and she found it quite impossible to
induce him abandon it; the only thing
she could do was to teach him to ask
pardon. ,
"Dear Pollie," as he sometimes calls
himself, is a superbly beautiful creature—very large, his feathers tinted
with the most dazzlihg colors; and in
his tail are plumes of brilliant red of
which he is exceedingly proud. His
gift of speech is simply marvelous.
When his mistress enters the breakfast room in the morning, he'salu*-*;
her with, "Good morning, dear. H- v
you slept last night;" and then look
out of the window, informs her of!/ ^o
state of weather, never making a mistake, saying, •'Oh, dear! how it rains!"
or "Oh, my! see the sun shine!" or
something else appropriate to the day:
At meals he sits on a high chair by
the side of Mrs. H , and is very
elegant in his manners, wiping his bill
incessantly on a napkin, and screaming,
"Oh, pardon! what a rude boy!" every
other minute. After grace, he says an
emphatic "amen!" anda-jver touches
his food until all have been served.
Besides his seeds, which are always
placed in his cage, he eats at the table
various kinds of fiuit, crackers and
bread, and drinks great quantities of
coffee.
With other naughty habits, Pollie
has a passion for teasing, for instance.
Mrs. H is teaching him a familiar
hymn; he can sing it almost perfectly
n*-w, but will never repeat it when she
asks him to, immediately brusting, with
a funny swagger and a defiant toss of
the head, into a song from "Pinafore."
It is only when he is in the mood for
itl generally about bed time, that he,
will recite his hymn, and then he df^s
it with gravity and emphasis. It1 "is
very funny to hear him address Mra.
H .   He always calls her "General,"
and as she is far from martial in her
bearing, being very meek and unassuming, the name produces a most comical impression. "I love you, General,"
said he, in tender accents, as we stood
before the cage: "I love you, dear,
with all my heart. Now, kiss me
quick," and he extended his hill invitingly.
"Gcoi-by dear Pollie," said I, as I
i 10k my leave. "Shall I come and see
you again ?"
•'Come again; come again," repeated
Pollie, cordially.
And I think I shall go, wouldn't you?
—Our Dumb Animals.
RELIGIOUS.
Moating Christians.
Fighting About Trifles.
What a world of trouble, time, and
nerve irritation would be saved if boys,
and men, too, would learn to never
mind trifling annoyances. Only the
other day (says a cotemporary) we overheard one boy telling another what a
third boy had said about him, and urging him to "lick him." "Oh," said the
second boy, "isn't worth minding. He
knows it ain't so, and I Won't stoop to
his level by taking any notice of it."
We inwardly thought, "that's a very
wise head on young shoulders." It re-,
minded us of two men, one of whom
started on a foot journey of 150 miles
or so. Two days later the other man
followed on the same road, and on the
fourth day overtook the first one. The
The latter remarked, "This is the worst
and slowest road I ever traveled.
There is the greatest number of snarling, barking little dogs I ever saw, and
it has taken half my time to drive them
off." "Why," said the second man, "I
didn't pay any attention to them, but
came right along as if they wern't
there." Half the time of many boys
and men is wasted in fighting trifles.
A certain circuit judge was. always
sure of meeting stme cutting or sneering remarks from a self-conceited lawyer when he came to a certain town in
his rounds. This was repeated one day
at dinner, when a gentleman present
said "Judge, why don't you squelch that
fellow ?" The judge, dropping his knife
and fork, and placinghis hands and his
elbows on the table, remarked. "Up in
our town a widow woman has a dog
that, Whenever the moon shines, goes
out upon the steps and barks, and barks
away at it all night." Stopping short,
he quietly re*-umed eating. After waiting Some time, it was asked, "Well,
Judge, what of the dog and the moon?"
"Oh, the moon kept on shining," he
said.
Perhaps there is no country in the
world where there is so much traveling as in the United States. There are
very few fixed family seats and no entailed property. Our people go from
place to place seeking to improve their
fortune. Men rush from the country
to the cities to find positions. People
in the cities fail, and go to the country. It is a wide land. There are diverse attractions in different places,
and there is a great West to be filled
up.
Even in our cities the people are migratory. Change of fashions and fortunes move high and low from one
part of a city to the other.
This state of affairs produces a trouble in churches. Of a large majority
of pastors, it may probably be said of
each, that he does not know every
member of his own flock. Men move
off, providing for everything hut their
church membership. They pay up all
their debts, inform their business correspondents of their new residence,
tell the postmaster where to forward
their letters, write to the publishers to
change their newspaper address; but
take not the least pains to inform the
pastor, or any officer of the church,that
they have removed.
Such a course is both unmannerly
and immoral. No Christian man has a
right to devolve upon- his pastor 'and
the-oflicers of his church any .anxiety
on account of his unexplained ahsence.
Sometimes after months, or perhaps
years, of absence, such a parishioner
finds himself in such a condition that
a church letter would be serviceable
to him. Then he writes back to the
pastor. What does he expect ihe pastor to do ? The applicant may have
been living a life of sin * in the
distant town, during the years of absence from his church. How can the
pastor know ?
But if' there has heen nothing else in
the applicant's conduct to forfeit
church membership, his very behavior to the church he left, renders him
unworthy of a letter. When a member has been so unfaithful to one
church, can a pastor reconimend him
to another?
In point of sacredness among his
voluntary associations, next to that of
his relation to his wife, is a man's relation to his church. If he walk off
from his church without one word of
explanation, we need not be much surprised if we find him next deserting his
wife.
There is one class of wanderers to
whom special attention should be called; namely, those who take their
church letters upon leaving home and
do not deposit them in some church at
their new residence. They are careful
to go well recommended from the
home parish. They cannot tell how
much service a church letter may do
them in their new place of residence.
But. plunging into business, they postpone from time to time the settlement
of their church lettei'3 until the letters themselves become too old for use
or the person in whose favor they were
written becomes careless, and perhaps,
enter on courses of sin.
We have heard it estimated that
there are now in New York, from
other places, having unpresented letters, persons enough to constitute two
churches, each with a membership as
large as any one now existing:. -Think
of all these unorganized troops! Who
can discover some cure for this evil ?
How can we reach the eyes and ears of
these negligent Christians? How can
we make them feel that they ought,
injustice, to write to their pastors at
least every three months until they
have determined with whom to cast in
their lots in their new homes ?
Our experience in the pastorate has
discovered to us the fact that, through
this carelessness many members have
been lost to the church, and not a few
have fallen away from religion and
morality.
Will not each pastor insist, not in
general terms, but specifically, that all
letters shall be taken to some church,
and insist that the sheep who go
from his fold shall early report to
him into what fold he has entered?
And let all sheep remember that,
though the distance between the folds
may be short, it is a transit of peril, increasing the opportunities of the wolf
and the danger of the sheer.
Bound to Have It So.
What Shall We Bead?
A Salt Mine 2,000 Yeaks Old—
A mine has been found in the mountain near Salzberg, Austria, which
gives indications of having been occupied and abandoned at least 2,000 years
ago. It contains a large and confused
mass of timbers, which were used for
support, and a number of miners'implements. The timbers were noticed
and sharpened, but were subject to an
inundation and left in confused heaps.
The implements were mainly wooden
shovels, axe-handle3. &c. Among the
relics, also, was a basket made of un-
tanned raw-hide, a piece of cloth woven
of coarse wool, the fibre of which is
very even and still in good preservation, and a torch, bound together with
flax-fibre. The probabilities are that
the ancient salt-miners were overtaken
by the flooding of the mine, as mummified bodies have,been discovered, also. The find seems to have belonged
to the pre-Eoman times, as the axe-
handles were evidently used for bronze
axes, specimens of which have been
found upon the. surface of the mountain. The relics are of a high order,
the basket being superior even to some
that were used in the early historic
times.—^American Antiquarian.
Deep rooted religious convictions
aud principle are essential to a successful issue from this life into that in
heaven. One of the best aids to such
conviction and principle is a genuine
love for moral and religious literature.
It is as important to know what not
to read as what to read. Whoever carries into his family a vile newspaper
or book, commits a sin against himself,
his family and society. Its teachings
will react upon himself, demoralize his
children, and their influence on society
will be the reverse of good.
The contest for pure society and the
general abolition of sin must be fought
around the hearthstone of home. Pure
hearts cannot come out of a home
wher^ evil communications are kept
before the minds of the young during
the years of their growth. Pure characters are made by pure literature, pure
surroundings and a christian atmosphere.
No one would think of trying to
raise a full crop of wheat, after sowing
only thistle seed. No more can we
sow the seeds of evil and yet reap only
good. No source of impure thought,
character and ruined life is more fruitful than the reading of debasing, impure literature. Who has not in youth
read a good or evil book, that cannot
truly say, years afterwards "I feel its
power still." Itis said that the Yellow
river in Asia carries with it, in suspension, so much yellow clay that it colors the waters of the ocean for scores
of miles beyond its mouth. So if our
cnildren or ourselves rea-1 vile literature, we will carry the evil influence
into society, an dits power will be noted and felt farther than we know. We
know a man by his personal associations. We may -know him just as
well by his readings. Show -aie a
man's library and papers; point out
the book3 he loves best, and I will tell
you the story of his inner life and
where his influence tends. It makes
no difference what he professes, what
church he attends or holds membership in, whether high orlow in men's
estimation, whetherrich or pcor, noted
or obscure, his readings will indicate
his true character.
What parent of good morals would
think of taking some vile wretch to
C?*^?
become the companion and associate
of his "wife and children. The very
thought is repulsive. Yet what better is it to provide literature for the
family, which photographs these vile
persons and their doings. j
"Be not deceived, evil communie^a-*
tions corrupt good manners." So they
corrupt thought, life, character and
soul. They lead to destruction, nevpr.
toward heaven. And as we value o}ir
souls and those of our families we
should let them forever alone, except
to burn them. If we read them they
will hum us.sure.
As you go to Boston and Hartford
by way of the Boston & Albany Railroad, if you take the morning express
there are two parlor cars thereunto attached,' with all the appurtenances
thereunto appertaining, including i a
porter with a whisp-broom in one hand
and a place for a quarter in the other.
Now, these two parlor cars are twins,
differing only, as is the case with twins,
in their manners. The last time!I
went out that way, which was only; a
few weeks since, one of these ears was
Gov. Hawley, and the other was some
other Governor. !
All went well until we reaehed-
Springfield. Here the usual halt of five
or ten minutes was made, the parlor ear
for Albany was switched off to its proper train, and we went thundering on f;o
Hartford. j
Before we were well out of the deppt
an old gentleman confronted me.
Round-faced, well-dressed, quick-spokeh,
a little crusty, and a general air of authority about him. _ !
"Young man," he said, sharply, *rou.ff"
of that." j
"Out of which?" I asked in innocent
surprise. \
"Out of that chair," snapped the old
party. "Come, be lively. I want to sit
down/'
I was puzzled and annoyed, andstam-
mered scmiething about this being a palr-
lor car and  j
"Yes, yes," he said, impatiently, -i'l
know all about that. This is a parlor
car and you've got my seat. Get olit
of it without any more words. Get ja
seat of your own somewhere, and donj't
go around appropriating other peoplej's
chairs when they have gone for lunch.
Get out, young fellow." j
I am naturally a bashful man, but
I did make one more desperate effort to
retain my seat. I said that I had occupied that seat—■. ' j
"Ever since I got out of it at Springfield," snarled the old man. "I rode in
that seat all the way from Boston, and
the minute I left it you jumped into it.
And now you jump out of it and 4°
words about it or I will make the car
full of trouble for you." j
It began to dawn on me then just
how matters stood. In fact I kne\j--,
but I was nettled. Everyhody in the
car was laughing at me, and I do hate
to be laughed at. x determined to wait
for my revenge. He snorted fiercely,
and I abdicted in favor of the testy old
jumper of claims who thus summarily
evicted me, and took my goods an|d
chatties to a seat in the rear end of the
car. ' ■       |
Presently along came the conductor
to take up the tickets. When he came
to the old gentleman, the conductor
passed back the ticket he had given
him. * j
"Wrong train, sir," he said.   "GetoiQT
at next station.   This train is for Hartford and New York." j
The old gentleman's face was ja
study. |
"For Ha-Ha-wa-what?" he shouteu.
"I know "better. Told me at Bostdn
this car went through to Albany."     |
"Lem' see the parlor car ticket," sa^d
the conductor briefly. "Yes, that's afl
right, you are on the wrong car; this
ticket for other car. Your baggage
half way to Albany by this time. Get
off at Hartford." !
"Well, when can I get a train back
to Springfield?" wailed the jumper 6i
chairs. -   - \
"To-night," said the conductor, anjd
he passed on to the next car. ?
Then I arose. I gathered up in inv
weak and long-suffering arms my hap, '
overcoat, lap-tablet and newspapers anjd:
walked back to that chair and stoqd
before the most crestfallen man the
immortal gods ever pitied. I didnft
say anything; didn't make a gesture,
I just stood up before Mm, holding my
goods, personal effects and railwajy
chattles in my arms and looked at him.
He arose and vamoused the claim. Arid
as I settled down in my recovered possession I made only one remark. I said
to the poor old gentleman: j
"I thought you would be sorry if yofu
took my chair." !
And he marched back and took ja
seat on the upholstered panch, to tl|e
merry laughter of the happy passenger^.
And the last time I looked around—oh,
crowning woe! the conductor was mat--.*'"
ing him pay a quarter for his seat m ' .
the palace car.—Exchange. ■ t
 ■■""—•     i.
Clyde shipbuilding continues to increase in the output of work month by
month, that for June beating anything
in the same month for a long-spell of
years. Something like 35 000 tons bf
shipping were launched during Junk
and the aggregate tonnage for the hali-
year is far above that of the corresponding period in 1881,and an extraordinary
advance over 1879 and 1880. A number of large-sized ships helped to swell
tlie tonnage total f onaTune, but despite
the frequency of launches for some
months past the firms on the Clytke
have large orders on hand, and the
yards, as a rule, are well stocked, nejw
keels being laid down as soon as a vacancy occurs. There are, it is believed,
about 140 vessels ,hn the stocks at the
present time. Judging from the apparently reckless manner in which
money is being put into ocean tonnage,
in all parts of the United Kingdo:
the carrying trade must have "millions
in it," a large part of which comes .oijit
of American pockets. Whatare we gp-
ing to do aboutIt?—Am. iShip.
Patno?.—It is said that the smell 6f
paint in a chamber or living room ma|y
be got rid of in this manner:  Slice
few onions and place them in a pail b±
water in the center of the room; close
the door, leave the window open a little,- and in a few hours the disagree i-
ble smell will have almost gone.   Another method is to plunge a handful
hay into a pail of water and let
stand in the newly painted room ov^r
night.
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