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MEW EVERY HORNING. Svery day is a fresh beginning, Every morn Is the world made new, You woo are weary of sorrow and sinning, Here is a beautiful hope for you; A hope for me *.nd a hope for you.. All the past things are past and over, The tasks are done and the tears are shed, Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover; Yesterday’s wounds, which smarted and blel, Are healed with the healing which night has shed. Yesterday now is a part of forever, Bound up In a sheaf which God holds tight, With glad days, and sad days, and bad days wh ch never Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight, Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful night Let them go, since we cannot relieve them, Cannot undo and cannot atone; God In his mercy forgive, receive them; Only the new days are our own, To-day is ours and to-day alone. Here are the skies all burnished brightly, Here Is the spent earth all re-born; Here are the tired limbs springing lightly, To face the sun and to share with the morn In the carlsm of dew and the cool of dawn. Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain, And spite of old sorrow and older sinning, And puzzles forecasted and possible pain, Take heart with the day, and begin attain. Susan Coolidok, Suited For Life. “No hotel ?” said Mr. Percival Payne. “Nothing in the shape of one,” an swered his friend, Lucius Warden, with the subdued triumph of one who announces a startling fact. “I never heard of such a thing in my life!” said Payne. “Nor I neither,” serenely remarked Warden. “But how do you account for it?” demanded the would-be tourist, smit ing his forehead in despair. “I don’t account for it at all,” said Mr. Warden, surveying the nails which he had just been carefully trimming with his penknife, “except that nobody knows anything about the place as yet. There’s a factory— wall'paper, I believe, or something of that sor£—and a cigar shop and a beer- shop and two threaci-and-needle stores, and apostofflce where the mails come twice a week ; and there’s the Magal- loway river, all carpeted over with water-lilies, and half a d< zen glorious little trout-streams running into it, and the finest bit of scenery you ever saw. But—there’s no hotel!” “But where’s a fellow to stay ?” helplessly demanded Payne. “Get an outfit and camp out, as I did,” said Warden, cheerfully. “A blanket, a canvas tent, with pegfe and loops, a little smudge of bran or pine- needles, to keep the mosquitoes off at nigh^ and—” “But I don’t enjoy camping out,” vehemently remonstrated Payne. “It is all very well for those that like it, but I’m not of that sort. I like your good walls, a feather pillow and regu lar meals served three times a day,” “Well, then, look here,” said War den. “Go to the Widow Buck’s. She takes boarders now and then.” “Who is the Widow Buck ?” asked Payne. “That I don’t Know,” replied his friend. “And where does sift live?” “There you have me again.” “Man alive! are you crazy ?” de spairingly questioned Payne. "How am I to find her?” “Inquire,” calmly responded Mr. Warden, as he shut up his knife and replaced it in his vest pocket. “Go to Mailzie Ford—11 A. M. train-nstage- coach—through in one day. Ask for the Widow Buck’s! Bless my heart! notning in the wide world could be easier. I always heard that people got good fare there and comfortable beds. And Mailzie Ford is a perfect little paradise when you once get there!” “Well,” sa\fi Payne, dejectedly, “it seems a wild-goose chase, but I've a mind to try it. A man can but come back again.” It wag rather early In the season for the conventional operation known to the American public as “summering,” but Perolval Payne, being a bachelor of independent fortune and cultivated tastes, felt that he could do as he pleased. And it was rather a luxury to anticipate the first mad rush of travel, when all the teats are engaged, the cozy corners taken, and the most desirable points of observation usurped. So he packed his valise, did up his fldiiug-taokle, laid in a great store of crayons and' sketching-paper, and started for the far northern wilderness of Mailzie Fold. Of course the train was late—trains always are late—and it was 4 o’clock in the afternoon when Mr. Payne found himself perched up in an open box-wagon, alongside of two trunks, a package of cod fish, mail-hag, and a pretty girl, with eyea as soft as black pools of wa'er, and one of those odd, fringing hats of black straw, all cov ered with loops and ribbon, that make pec pie look so picturesque. “Where do we meet the stage?” said Mr. Payne, as he settled himself so as to inconvenience his prttty neighbor as little as possible. The driver stared at him. “This ’ere’s the stage!” said he. “Git up, sorrel!” Mr. Payne staved. “But stages have tops,” said he. “This ’ere stage don’t,” said the driver. It was rather a trying situation- steep up-hill part of the way and steep down-hill the rest, with the co< fish and the mail bag alternately tumbling into Mr. Payne’s lap, and the pretty girl laughing in her sleeve at his em barrassment. “I’m very rude, I know,” said she, “but if you’d just tie that codfish to the back of the wagon with your fish ing line it wouldn’t trouble you so much ” “A good idea!” said Payne,briskly. “Thanks, very much for suggesting it!” “I’ve traveled over this road before,” said the pretty girl, laughing. “Are you going to Mailzie Ford?” said Mr. Payne, with a sudden gleam of animation. “No,” said the pretty girl. “To Catley’s Dam.” “Perhaps you know something about Mailzie Ford ?” hazarded our htro ‘Oh, yes!” said the nymph with the dark eyes. “It’s a lovely place ! I used to live there before I went into the factory at Catley’s.” “Doyou know the Widow Buck?” aHked Payne, with interest. “Very well,” nodded the pretty girl. “I’m going there to look.for board,” ■aid Mr. Payne. “1 hope you’ll be suited,” said the girl. And then they began to talk about the tall, blue-crested mountains, which were beginning to close in around them. The dewy-eyed damsel had read Longfellow; she knew all about Thoreau ; she was even “up” in It is- kin, and she expressed herself with grace and Bp rit, which set Mr Payne to wondering if all the Maine girls were equally cultivated and beautiful And then the codfish tumbled down again and had to be tightened anew, and by that time they had come to a house in the midst of a lonely belt of woods, which the driver said was “Catley’s Dim,” upon which the pretty girl di-appeared into the purple twilight, and Mr. Payne and the cod fish went on, sorrowful, much jolted and alone. A glimpse of the beautiful Ma' allo- way river by moonlight; the cry o£ a wild-bird in the woods ; the noise of hidden cascades; a blur of lighted windows, which the driver said was thefaotory; down a blind lane, end checking the tir«d horses at a one storied stone house behind a wall of cedar trees, and then the Jehu eriea out: “Now, then ! Here we be! Widow Buck’s!” Mr. Payne got stiffly out, and helped to unload the various paraphernalia of travel which belonged to him—all of them by this time considerably flavor ed with salt codfish'. “Perhaps you bad better wait,” said he, as the driver turned around and chirruped to his horse. “What foi ?” demanded the man. “In case Mrs. Buck should not be able to accommodate me, or—” “Oh, it’s all right!” said the driver. “She’ll take you in. Naomi would have told you, else.” And away he drove, leaving our hero alore in the spectral moonlight, with a pile of luggage at his feet, and a gaunt dog smelling at the skirts of his coat. “Who’s Naomi?” said Mr. Payne, addressing the moon. “And what would she have told me?” He raised an old-fashioned brass knocker that hung at the door and rattied it briskly. The gaunt dog, aroused to a sense of his duty, left ofl^ snufflugand began to bark. Presently, a tall, thin woman, with a red pocket handkerohit-f tied on her head, with a kerosene lamp in her hand, opened the door. “Oh,” said she, peering sharply at him, “you’re the young man from the citv, are you?” With the initiative thus taken out of his hands, Mr. Payne could only in cline his head. “All them traps yourn ?” demanded the Widow Buck, abruptly. “Yes, madam,” Mr. Payne ad mitted. “Hiimph !” said the widow. “’Pears to me it’spurty tol’able cheeky of you, milter, to take it for granted you’d be asked to stay J” “1 thought, madame—” “I’m a-talking now,” said the widow, sharply. “To begin right straight at the beginning, we don’t know anything about you. You may he a bank burglar or a counterfeiter, for all we know !” “My nferences, madame—” “Yes, I know,” said the widow. “ \nd them very references is most likely forgtd. But I’m willin’ to he teasonahle. How old be you?” And Mr. Psyne, secretly wondering if this was the way they managed thing! in Maine, answered meekly : “Two-and-thirty !” “Ever been married before?’ sharply questioned the widow. “Certainly not, madame! I am a single man!” answered Mr Payne, with a justifiable spark of indignation in his manner. “Any business?” went on his cate chist. “None, madame.” “Well, I like that!” said the widow, with a scornful sniff. “Like your im pudence to come here and own to such a disgrace as that! Expect to live on me, he> ?” “Madame!” gasped poor Mr, Pa' ne. “How d’ye suppose you’re ever going to keep my Naomi, even if I allowed >ou to marry her?” sharply went on the woman, “which I shan’t do, and don’t you think it! S ie don’t care for you, anyway! When she heard vou was coming she made up her mind to stop off at C ttley’s Dam, just to get rid of the sight of you. There ! So just p'Ck up your traps and go back ag’in the way you come! You won’t Dever be a son-in law of mine!” But while Widow Buck was volubly uttering these, last glib sentences a Hg’.t began to dawn on Mr. Payne’s obscured brain. “I think, Mrs Buck,” said he, “that you must be laboring under a little misapprehension. My name is Percival Payne. I am from Boston. I was rec ommended here, as an eligible board ing place, by Mr. Warden, of 15 Pep permint place.” Mrs. Buck nearly dropped her lamp in consternation. *“ Well, I never!” said she, instantly flinging the door wide open. “Please to walk in, sir. I’ll send the boy out arter your trunks and things in half a miuute. I beg your pardon, I’m sure, for mistaking you for Peleg Driggs, from Lowell, as was cornin’ here after my daughter Ndomi ! She works in the Lowell mills,Ntomldoes. Tothink how ever I could have made such a blunder! Do walk in, sir!” And Mr. Payne was promptly intio- duced to a delightful little “interior” of red carpet, round table spread for tea, shaded lamplight, and a fire of logs burning on an open hearth to keep out the damp of the summer evening. Afier 10 o’clock, when the wearied traveler was in bed, in a pretty little room where there was an eight-day clock in a cherry wood case, and a carpet made of woven rags, he heard the opening and shutting of doors be low, the clear sound of a familiar voice—the voice of his black-eyed traveling companion. “Well, mother, did he come?” she asked. “Peleg didn’t come,” said the Widow Buck. “But a young gentle man from the city came. And don’t you b’lieve, Naomi, I took him for Peleg, and I peppered away at him well J” “Oh, mother, what will he think?” cried the softer young voice. “I asked his pardon, of course,” said the old lady. “And he took it all as a joke.” And when Peleg Driggs himself the next day put in an appearance, he was summarily dismissed. While Mr. Perolval Payne and the fair Naomi were sitting by a trout pool in the cool woods below; for Naomi knew all about the haunts aud nooks of the neighborhood and handled a fLhing pole most skillfully. Mr. Payne liked Mailzie Ford and staged there all summer. Aud as there were several hoarders in the old stone house Miss Naomi couoluded not to return to factory life in the Lowell mills but to stay and help her mother with the housework ; and when autumn came she was engaged to Mr, Percival Payne. “Tue sweetest wild flower in all the Northern woods,” he wrote, enthusi astically, to his friend Warden. Warden went up to Mailzie Ford. He was introduced to Miss Nacmi. He agreed with his friend. "She’s a little jewel,” said he. “You’re a lucky fellow, Payne. But I didn’t know when you wrote me that you were so well suited with the ac commodations here—” “That I was suiting myself for life ?” interrupted Payne, “But you see that such was the fact ” The “Combing of Waves. All who have watched waves break ing on toe seashore have probably no ticed the furrowed or “combed” appearance of the back of a wave as it curls over. This “combing” appears suddenly, beginning at the advancing edge of the crest and spreading back ward. In small waves a foot or so in height and of long extended front, such as are seen in shallow water, the crest, which rolls down the front of the wave, is at first smooth and even while the back of the wave is also smooth ana unfurrowed, but the edge of the crest suddenly becomes crenated and almost simultaneously the “comb ing” appears on the back of the wave, traveling rapidly backward from the crenated edge. A considerable length of the wave appears Jo be thus affected at almost the same instant. In larger waves the crest falls rather than rolls upon the concave front, but it suddenly becomes uneven and is often fringed with a row orro vs of drops, the “comb ing” appearing at the same instant. “It is well known,” says a wiiter in Nature, “that a long cylinder of liquid is unstable and will, if left toitself, at < nee split into a row of equal, equi distant drops—the splitting being ef fected by a constriction of the cylinder in certain places and a bulging out in others. Again, if a mass of liquid is bound by an edge whose surface is ap proximately a portion of a long cylin der, there is good reason for supposing that this cylindrical edge will be sub ject to similar laws of stability, aud that it will tond to cleave in the same way, the surface being forced in in certain places and out in others. Now a wave’s crest presents such a cylin drical edge. It will, therefore, of itself, cleave in the way described, and the flow of water will thereby be hindered at the constrictions and aided at the place of bulging out. Thus lines of easiest flow will be set up, which in their turn will determine the furrows on the back of the wave. The fringe of drops is due to the splitting in a similar manner of the cylindrical jets shot out from the places of bulging, where the flow is aided. Indeed, much or the*setting at the edge of a wave is, I think, attributable to the breaking up of such jels in this manner. The regularly toothed edge of a spot of can dle-wax that lias fallen on a cold object affords in a permanent form a familiar illustration of the same action.” Scenes During the Bombard ment. M. Goussio, manager of the Anglo- Egyptian Bank, who with his wife remained in Alexandria during the bombardment by the British fleet, re lates the following incidents: The whole night long the native population had poured, screaming with terror,into the interior. At five minutes past 7 on the 11 ch came the first shot from the frigates. The excitement of the popu lation and the volume of the emigra tion instantaneously increased. At 9 the soldiers began parading the town, assuring themselves by search whether the Europeaus wereiu communication with the Admiral by telephone or telegraph or not. An officer, accom panied by several soldiers, mounted on the terraces of the houses and cut the wires of the telephones. One of the sol liers we saw carried a hatchet cov ered with blood. My berbery told me he had just assassinated an English- inanwhom he found in communication with the Admiral This was probably the young French telegraph clerk who sought refuge in the E istern Telegraph Company’s offices. The bombardment continued all day. All day the popu lation were fleeing with fr glffeued faces. On the 12th the flight of the inhabitants continued in even greater numbers. In the afternoon the exodus from the town had become general. At three o’clock the soldiers gave the signal for pillaging. As on the llih of June, they began by opeuing ihe doors of the stores and dividiug the merchandise which they found. Sol diers, under the direction of the offl jers and superior officers, divided the booty in a fashion disgraceful, but at the same time having its comical side. Pieces of calico were cut into pieces and handed round, while albums, watches and fancy goods were carried off and frequently pulled to pieces, after having been for a few moments in the hands of men who did not un derstand their use. The officers fre quently carried two or more guns, so as to le^ve free hand. 1 ! to the soldiers who were carrying off the booty. A colonel mounted on a horse had a pair of new shoes under his arm another threw down and broke into athousand pieces a clock wh ich he found too heavy to carry. The property destroyed was of great er value than that which was actually carried away. As soon as a shop was empty the paper and all the debris that could be hastily collected were thrown into It; then small explosive pellets were added, and in a moment the whole was in a blaze. At five o’clock the Egyptian heroes, loaded with booty instead of laurels, retreate in the greatest disorder. Since to o’clock in the afternoon the bowij or house porters, had received the d’ordre to desert the houses wl they guarded. By 6 o’clock all European quarter was in flames, at the town presented the appearance one huge furnace. Here and there could see men of sinister appears and some disbanded soldiers' like silent shadows into the opei and going out loaded with plj having fed the fire with the ini ble material with which the] provided. In order to defend i which the fire inclosed in mentarily becoming smt bound to make rounds in street all night and fire diaries and marauders, the immediate neighborly served clear. During the' families came in and detml ter. In the morning of finding that no soldiers werect! to relieve us or save the town, I mined to go to them. We set ouf gether, some seventy persons, fipt the numerous women and chj into the middle of our troop, suri ed them with Greens and Mont grins, and theu all started for thej tom House. On our way five people m the same condition ourselves j >ined us. The 105 marched, without encountering opposition, over and through masses of burning rulna* We ourselves broke open the doors of the city. We seized some abandoned boats, which were fortunately at hand, and pulled ourselves to Admiral Sey mour, who received us with kindness on board the Helicon. Farm and Wor i WV9 Pennsylvania sheep are being shipned in large lots to the West for breeding purposes. Iowa has nearly 1,000,000 oowa, valued at $27 per head, or a total of $27 000,000. Full maturity of the body is neces sary to a perfect development! ef.tljiL milk glands. A Clarion oounty (Pa.) farmer sheared 56 pounds of wool fr/ \ four young sheep this season. / A single scupperaong grape-vine sometimes yields one hundred bushelv of grapes in a single season. A farmer in Maine reports the ai^' rival of an insect that feeds upoq m eggs of the potato beetle. I ’ ;• Analysis of green rye shows lt*0 riiH nearly equal to clover for fodd®rj and better than grass in blossom. V ! By a test of the cloasst average iHSrlt, it requires four bushels and forty-Sevan and a quarter pounds of whegl to make a barrel of flour. Seven mules were killed by light ning on a farm in Missouri. Th were some distance apart, an lightning followed a barbed fence. Hogs that run in the orohar ing up the windfalls and, occasional good apples, never have the hog cholera, which is another proof of the value of a fruit diet. In the year 1816 wheat sold for oents per bushel while woolen bl keta were worth from $10 to $ pair. Now wheat is worth $1 5 blankets from $3 to $10. Beduce as far as you can t of fenciug upon your farm, j wfticb is necessary to Keep up substantial order. Fences at b dead oapital, a great and cons reourrlng expense.