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The Useful Plough. A country life is sweet! In moderate cold and nem t , , To walk in the air is pleasant and fair! In every field of wheat The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers, \nd every meadow's br 'w, So that I say, no courtier may Compare with them who clothe in gray, And follow the useful plough. They rise with the morning lark, And labor till almost dark, , Then, folding their sheep,they hasten to sleep; While every pleasant park >*ext morning is ringing with birds that are singing, On each green, tender bougli. With what content and merriment Their days are spent whose minds are bent To follow the useful plow! Anonymous. WILD WORK; A Study of Western Life. BY MARY E. BRYAN. CHAPTER XXIII. The sun, low in the west, shone behind clou dy bars of rose and gold, a wind crept up from the river, freshening the heated air, stirring the silver-lined leaves of the cotton wood, and moving the silky rings of hair on Zoe s forehead, as she sat on the gallery of her brother s cot tage, her sewing dropped in her lap, her eyes watching the sunset gleam npon the tops of the dark woods in the distance. ‘Look!’ cried her little nephew, pulling at her sleeve and pointing to the road where two men on horseback were approaching the house. They stopped before the gate, and the taller of the two inquired for Mr. Vincent, and being told that he had ridden back in the swamp to look at some wood his hands were cording, he asked f Mr. Vincent did not n«ed more wood-cutters ias their business with him was to get work; and wood chopping would suit as well as any- ^Zoe glanced up at the two men, and thought they would not do much at the wood business. Their appearance showed none of the muscular development of men accustomed to heavy work. Both were young; the taller had a supple, slen der figure, straight as an Indian’s, a pale, beard less face (the fact of being without a beard be ing singular in the West) a small, pale, restless gyg hands tanned but slender, and a foot whose shapeliness could not be wholly disguis ed by the rough Texan boot worn outside the pants. In his manner there was a mixture of carelessness and refinement at odds with his coarse, dusty clothes. His companion, lower and clumsier of build, had nothing of his easy, independant carriage and grace of look and manner. He was swarthy-skinned,_ with an eye dull yet watchful—like an alligator’s. They alighted from their horses and came up to the house, the tall one seating himself on the step and beginning to play with the chil dren, the other walking up and down in the yard whistling and humming a song, the re frain of which, as Zoe canght it, was; ‘Oh! Mary, sweet Mary, "You're false and unkind, i’ll roam the broad prairie Some peace for to find’ Hugh came at last, greeted them in his usual bluff, off-hand way, and was informed of their business. ‘Wood-chopping,’ he said, doubtfully, as bis eye ran over their figures. ‘You’re rather light for that work—and your hands! Are you used uiu you come irom, and what are you doing here?’ ‘Crops failed for want of rain in Texas where we were, and we come here hunting work.’ ‘Havn’t I seen you some where ? I recognize your faces. Stay! wasn’t your comrade here, the fellow that pitched into the Radicals so, in Cohatchie last Saturday—abusing Devene and Omar Witchell to their faces, and swearing he could whip out the whole of them ?’ ‘The same. It’s Jim’s way when he takes too much. He must show his teeth right away.’ ‘He did more than show his teeth Saturday. He was on the bite and no mistake. He was outrageously abusive, and I wonder Devene kept his hands off him.’ ‘He wouldn’t, if it hadn’t been for that meek sheep-looking chap, Witchell’s brother. He kept holding the other fellow’s arm and telling him to be calm, and remember what Marshall had put them on their guard about.’ ‘If your brother wanted a fight out of them, he went about it too brash. He over did the matter, and made them suspect he was put up to it < ‘That’s Jim’s foolish way when the liquor’s in him. I saw he was going too far, but 1 was bound to hack him.’ ‘Hegot taken up and putin jail, didn’t he?’ ‘He did, and he got out too.’ ‘Through Alver’s influence, I heard. You are lucky to find such a friend. I wonder he did not employ yon upon his own place. Did he send you to me?’ A shade of embarrassment tinged the young man s face at the keen look and abrupt question. But he answered promptly. ‘Not exactly. He said if we were after work we might try here, as you had a wood yard, and he knew you to be a square man to deal with.’ I aidn t think Alver would besocomplimen- tery to me. Something must be in the wind I d ? n 4 1 1 * e T him * n ° r J“ e - rve “ever joined his White League that they tell me has got to be such a strong organization,’ ‘You’re a Rad, then.’ ‘N° “O'® than ^ er is. I’m a white man to the back bone, and I m against being ruled bv Radicals and niggers, but all the same I don’t want to bind myself by the rules and regula tions of a clique got up by a man who’s more alter office than he is after principle or the good of the people. But this is drifting awav from business. You want a job of wood chop ping and I can t give it to yon. I've more chop pers now than I want.’ r ‘Anything else then? We’re bound to stay around here. Our horses are too jaded to travel.' ‘Go to work ! There's something wrong about these fellows. Wanting work is an excuse to hang around the neighborhood. They’ve plenty of money. They have gone and hired the negroes to get out the shingles, and I found them out yonder where the hands were at work, popping away at a maik. Rube says they have whiskey with them. I must turn them off. They are up to some mischief likely.’ That evening after sunset, as Zoe and the children stood on the river bank, they saw ap proaching a wagon, driven slowly with an ex cited group of negroes following it. A little darkey running on ahead, announced to them breathlessly that ‘dem two white men done font, and one bus tother’s head clean open wid a axe, and he dead dare in de waggin.’ Zoe hurried up to the vehicle which had stopped before the out house. Jim Nolan and two negroes were lifting the senseless form of Dan, out of the wagon. They put him down on the floor of the porch. His face was covered with blood, his head a mass of clotted gore. His brother stooped over him. He was only half sober, his hands were stained, his face streaked with his brother’s blood. He raised Dan’s head and put a bottle to his mouth, his hand shaking, and the liquor spil ling over the unconscious man’s face. ‘ Come now Dan ; stop this foolishness, hold up your head and drink -some of this, You’ll be right in five minutes. Curse the blood, how it flows ; It’s only a scratch. You give me a sight harder lick. You ought not to provoked me, throwing up that blunder. Yon know how I am, specially when I’ve had liquor. Bat I’ll forgive you if you’ll stop this darned foolish ness. Open your eyes, drink a little of this now, do.’ He tried to force the neck of the bottle between his brother’s mouth. Zoe was horrified. ‘ Let him alone; can’t you see he is dying ?’ she cried. • Dying!’ he turned on her with a red glare in his dull-lidded eyes, ‘ dying ! he is not going to die. If he does ‘ he uttered with slow, hoarse em phasis, striking out with his clenched fist * I die too. He’s my brother, and if I’ve killed him, I'll go too. I’ll blow out my brains the minute I see he’s at his last gasp. Here’s what’ll do the business. ‘ He brought up a pistol out of his pocket and cocked it with a sharp click, then his roving, crazy glance fell on his brother, and he saw he had opened his eyes. Down he got over him again, the pistol was hastily uncocked and thrust into hts pocket, and the bottle drawn out. ‘ You‘re coming round old fellow. I see you are,* he cried, fumbling about his brother's face with his bloody fingers. ‘There was‘nt much the matter. That‘s right; stop your Donsense and drink this and get up. Curse it ; don't shut your eyes again. ‘ ‘ Get away with your liquor Nolan, * Hugh said sternly. He had just come up. ‘Rube, set tnat bucket of water ( close to him; Here Zoe, run and get some big towels; we must stop this bleed ing. The doctor won't be apt to get here before morning. Get back Nolan: you can't do any good; you're shaking like a man with the ague. Go and wash your hands and face, for God's sake.* ‘ You don't think Dan's in any danger ?' ‘Well, from the looks of all this blood, I should think he was, and I'd advise you to mount your horse and get away from here as quick as you can, if you don't want to get nabbed. ‘ ‘Never ; I'll never leave him in death or life. What'd I do without Dan? I'd be lost without him. He's all I've got, if he dies gentlemen, I'll go too,quick as hot lead can send me. But he aint a going to die, not he, he's had too many hard rubs to knock under for such a tap. Look ; ff-r— xv “*“ u you, ao you J Want some thing stronger; here it is. Get away nigger I know what's good for him. There ; you see he swallows; that‘11 bring him np. Pat back the cloths ‘ he cried, as the towels dropped away-and exposed the swollen, spongy scarlet cut, from which the blood continued to flow. ‘ Yes you'll soon be all right,' he repeated, springing to his feet and beginning to walk the floor rapidly, whistling, and ,at last breaking out with fa ‘Oh Mary, sweet Mary You’re false and unkind, I’ll roam the broad prairie Some peace for to find.’ Such scenes were repeated all night. Dan Nolan lay in a stupor from which he occasion ally roused and stared about and spoke. Once, he sank into a kind of swoon, and Vincent thought him dead. Jim Nolan, down on his knees, felt for his pulse. Shaking his head he said coolly. ‘Yes, he’s gone,’ and pulling out the pistol, cocked it and put it to his own head. ‘Stand back Squire'he said to Vincent. ‘Don’t interlere, or I'll shoot you sure.’ ‘Don’t you see your brother is coming to ?’ shouted Vincent. Those words arrested the would be suicide and brought him to his brother’s side. A moment after, he was whistling—‘Mary, sweet Mary, At daylight, the doctor came, and contrary to Hugh’s fears, pronounced the wound not nec- sessarily fatal and the patient likely to live, though, having lost so much blood, he would be very weak for a long time. ‘I've nothing you could do unless you could get out shingles. I want a lot for my new sta bles, but I’ve half promised the job to some darkeys. 1 ou don t know how to get out shingles I suppose? ° The young fellow out a quick, half quizzical glance at his comrade, who had taken no part in the conversation, but had stopped his walk and his whistle to listen to it and stood rubbing the rust off the blade of a large knife with his dirty handkerchief. Zoe, who did not like his furtive, reptile eye, wondered if that might not be the rust of blood. ‘Shingle-getting is our favorite profession,’ said the other. ‘We can take a premium on that any day. We’ll do the work cheap too as any.’ ‘Very well, I’ll try you to-morrow, Mr. . You hav'nt told me your name yet.’ 'Nolan —. Dan and Jim ; we’re brothers.’ ‘You don’t look the least alike. Well, you can sleep in that little out honse there, Mr. No lan, at the corner of the yard, and we. will seBd you your meals.' ‘Did your professional shingle-getters go to work all right?’ Zoe asked her brother the next day, when he returned from the woods. CHAPTER XIV. He was ill for a good many days. His broth er nursing nim unremittingly, and Zoe help ing in some of the lighter services. Dan Nolan was a mystery to her. In his fine brow and mouth, in his tones, his looks, and under his quiet, careless manner there was a strange re finement, entirely wanting in his brother, and foreign to his own acknowledged pursuits. He had read, traveled about, mixed with artists and actors perhaps been an actor himself for he had locks of hair from the heads of not a few famous ladies of the stage. He carried a flute too in nis knapsack, and a set of chess men he had caiT-d with much taste. Once, when his brother had gone to town for medicine, Zoe was sitting by him a while as he lay on his pallet on the shaded back porch. He had been more than usually feverish, and she had bathed his head and face. He took her her sahR *** m ° ving awa J’> and » looking at _ ? re ^ 00 g° od > you don’t know what a J ?, m \ What would you say if I told you that the hands you have been bathing are stained with crime ? that they had even meant to do harm to you and yours ?’ ‘Harm to us !—Why ?’ •Yea ^ your Mother enemies?’ ‘Especially since he refused to join the White f ague- Alver’B motto is. They that are not of ns are against us !’ ev?« e o^ ld “ ot , 8a Y an Y more; but closed his r- d la y back as if exhausted. Zoe’s curi- T/™ excited; her fears were slightly aroused. Tim’u » t bers ?^ justifiable that evening after tindnw^ 11 ’ in 8t ,°PPmg an instant just by the nn w ben she heard the brothers speaking her ear * >0rc * 1 outs i d0 . Alver’s name caught I *? id yon see him ?’ Dan asked. # ® : 1 cam ? “ear breaking his neck too. He no fnrth«r 88 V Was a dog T ol d me he had fool *n a for ns ’ that we bad played the enonoh /f Ve “J fifty Said that was oSmeWes 8n ° h “ ar ' pIota “ wo had proved devil! As if he didn’t make a firm bargain for ns to Btay here till after the election at his expense !j I’ll get np there pretty soon if it kills me, and I’ll show him.’ ‘Better not. He declared if I came np there again, he’d have me arrested, whether for what I did to you, or for the old scores, I don’t know. He said it would be healthy for us to get out of the parish.’ ' He’s afraid we’ll peach. He want’s us out of the way. He has got somebody else to do that job for him.’ ‘I believe he has. I am sure of it. Thetown is in a commotion to day; people standing with their heads together, talking. Something’s go ing to drop pretty soon. An old fellow told me it was whispered they were looking for the negroes to rise—and pitch into killing and robb ing generally.’ ‘ We understand that’ Dan said significantly, ‘ At least, I think I do. If they can make believe those fellows started the row, it’ll be better than their first plan. There; you’ve hurt my head, old fellow, that was an awkward punch.’ Zoe stole away from her plaoe at the window troubled and perplexed. Her situation just now was peculiarly painful. Hugh had been taken down two days before with fever; her sister-in-law had a little babe not ten days old; the responsibility of the family rested on her young shoulders. She knew nothing of the two young men whom acoident had quartered upon them. They might be rogues, desperadoes, murderers, for autdit she knew, and now she seemed to have g*j an inkling of some evil mystery with which they had to do. She had no neighbors on this side the river, npon whom she could rely. ‘Every oae for himself’ was their motto. They were narrow, selfish people with whom moreover her brother was not on friendly terms. His quick, somewhat rough temper had revolted against some petty meanness and med dling on their part. Then too, he was looked on with suspicion because he had not joined the White League. Loyal Southerner and Demo crat as he was, he had his own notions, and he held that it would fetter his freedom of con science and of action to pledge himself to fol low the lead of any organization, especially one planned and controlled by a man whose ambi tion was his god. Thus Zoe felt herself in a manner, isolated and alone. Her keen instinct had made her vaguely conscious that something was wrong— something unusual going on among whites and blacks. Crops were neglected; men rode abont restlessly, crossed the river and gathered in Cohatchie; negroes left their work to collect in knots around the house of some important char acter among them, and talk earnestly. To-day she had noticed that they seemed to be excited —their gestures ware agitated, she was driv en to remark their .restless tramping and riding up and down the river. Their own farm hands looked at her strangely and heJd aloof. Even the cook was reserved and sullen. Zoe felt the oppressing influence of all these things, but she had no time to indulge in misgivings. Her day’s work and cares were not yet ended. She called the children to her, gave them their sup per of milk and bread, and put them to bed. Then she saw to the comfort of her sister-in- law, lying there, white as her pillows, with her fat, rosy babe sleeping beside her. She ad ministered Hugh’s medicine to him, and gaye him the few moutbsful of nourishment he would take. Then, after freshly arranging his bed and room, she left him in charge of the old colored woman, who had been his nurse when he was a baby, while she went out into the front gallery for coolness and a moment’s quiet thought. Some one was sitting on the steps and called her name as she approached. ‘Is it you, Henry ?’ she said. ‘Have you been here long ? I did not know it. You must par- $<J T UT&he you atr4>Ar l ,t, ii no more, so i waited ’ He was a youig'ii^mer, who lived across the river a good heOluted fellow very popular among the men- anli deeply attached to Zoe— but quite timid in his worship. She liked him His simple, merry talk made some bright spots in her dreary life, for her life was lonely here at this place where people, wrapped in the cul ture of,cotton and corn, were like coooons in their cells, and cared for nothing outside their nar row home interests. ‘You wanted to see me, Henry—was it for any thing special ?’ she asked, sitting down on the steps near him. ‘I wanted to ask you not to go to the ball to morrow night’ ‘The ball—what ball ?‘ ‘Why the grand ball that colonel Alver gives in his fine new store that‘s just finished.* ‘I had forgotten. I believe too I was to have gone with you. So many cares and distresses have come upon me lately, that they have quite put the ball out of my head. I should not g< any how, but why **.re you so particular in re questing me not to be there?* ‘I can’t tell you that Miss Zoe?’ ‘Why not Henry ? ‘Em pledged not to. But—I may tell you this much I think. There’ll be no ball, no danc ing of any account. It’ll be broken up as soon as it begins.’ ‘Henry, I insist on your telling me what you mean. This is more perplexity. There is some mystery floating in the air that I vaguely feel, and it troubles me. What is it that will break up the ball? Why are you pledged to keep it?’ We are pledged not to tell the secrets of the League to out siders, and your brother is an out aider.’ But he is a true Democrat—a true friend to his country.’ I believe that. And I don’t see why this should be one of the secrets of the League Everybody ought to know it, seems to me, you especially who are so unprotected on this place right now. Miss Zoe, I must tell you: it may put you on your guard. They say the negroes are going to rise; th it the night of the ball they aim to surround the.h&ll-room and kill the men and carry off the ladles.’ ‘Oh, what a wild project! Do you think the negroes would be such fools ? What end would they have in view ?’ ‘ It’s the Radicals putting them up to it.’ ‘ For what purpose in the world ? How did it get out, Henry ?’ ‘It got out through a letter Witchell wrote to his brother, telling him to stir np a riot with the negroes, and scare and kill the whites, so that the Radicals would carry the election.’ ‘ You saw that letter ?’ ‘ No; we heard at our last meeting, (that is a few of us did,) how such a letter had been inter cepted in the post oiflee at Cohatchie, and how in some way, it had come to the ears of the League leaders that the night of the ball was the night chosen for the attack. The programme is that we are to go there, as if we suspeoted nothing; only, we are all to carry arms. A few know why and are pledged not to tell,' the others suspect there is something in the wind and will come armed, because told to do so. The Radi cal officers are invited. Senator Witchell him self may be there. TEey are looking for him from New Orleans to-night, or to-morrow.’ ‘ It all seems strange to me. It is strange that the Radioals should wreck their own cause this way. Why, it is their policy to make out the negroes are the most, peaceable, best disposed citizens of the South, and now to incite theift to a riot on the eve of election! Why that : ftf,to sell themselves, sure enough. Of conrse. Yoe riot would be qnelled. The few white Votes that might be destroyed, would count nothing against the injury that would be done the Re publican party in the state —in the whole South. And Witchell has beep working hard to gain the confidence of a portion of the whites here, and has quite a number of friends on the Hills. It seenis strange. I cannot realize that such a thing can be intended. Do you really believe it?' Oh ! yes, Miss Zoe, I am afraid there is some thing of it.’ . ‘ It may be. I know there is something un usual going on among the negroes. I have noticed they seem restless and excited, espe cially to-day.’ .. , ‘Well, you know they are all stirred np. They are, or they pretend to be, scared and confused as sheep the wolf has got amongst. One of theie big men—old Moses Clark—the richest and mo3t thought of darkey about here —was killed yesterday. Havn’t you heard about it ?’ . ‘I stay here and nurse children and sick folks and hear nothing.’ ‘He was called out just at dusk and shot down—the negroes say by a white man. It’s a pity. He was a harmless, respectable old fel low. And now, I hear to-day, that the cabins of two more negroes have been fired into, that the negroes have been threatened by an un known party, and have had one or two anony mous letters through the post-office, warning them to join together for protection or they would be trampled out. Old Rube tells me they have come to Levi Adams—here on your place—to know of him what they must do; I can’t think who’s been working this mischief to the negroes. I know it’s not our League. They’ve always frowned down Ku-Klux meas ures of any kind. Maybe, all this is done by the negroes and Rads to throw dust in our eyes. If so, we’ll be too sharp for them. They’ll be a little disappointed to-morrow night.’ ‘As well as the poor girls who expected to dance. Why do you not warn them all to stay away ?* ‘We were ordered to keep silent. I have broken commands, but I was determined to warn you. Miss Zoe, you had better go into Cohatchie and stay with some of your friends. It‘ll be very unsafe for you here, with noth ing but the swamp back of you, and so many negroes and so few white people around. Yon must go across the river any how. Come and stay with mother.* ‘And leave this sick family and these little chil dren ? No, Henry, I shall stay right here, I hope this may prove a mere sensational story— an election canard. I know our people would not be s# unprincipled, as to incite a riot, and I don’t think the Radicals are such fools, and the negroes have not sense or courage enough to organize anything unless put up to it—ex cept perhaps, if they are really frightened, to band together in an irregular way for protec tion. That is little Ralph calling me. He will wake up his father, if I don’t go at once and tell him a bear Btory to send him to sleep again. Thanks, Henry, for coming to put me on my guard. I hope though, your warning will not be needed- Good night.’ The next day—the day of the ball—was a still, warm, bright summer day—shining down on ripening corn and burdened orchards— scarlet pome granites, figs, and peaches—that oaded the boughs and dropped into the long neglected grass. But to Zoe, the cloudless day had ominous portents. No negroes worked in the field; no songs or laughter reaohed her ears; no little darkey came to beg fruit; her cook did not make her appearance. A few negro men came to ask her to open her brother’s store and sell them some powder and shot to go hunt ing with. They seemed to resent her refusal, and muttered their disbelief of the ex cuse she gave. Early in the day she saw the tall mnlatto, Levi Adams, the negro leader of the neighborhood, ride off from his cabin on her xio was gone numo Ho&rs v , returned, seeme'd To consult with a group of negroes collected under ( the pecan tree by his house, and th^n rode away r up '.he river. Sne was standing in the front yard, as he passed the house. He turned in his saddle and looked at her with a sinister, inso lent expression on his fierce, scornful face. He rode, leaped, shot, swam, and dodged, like an Indian. In fact, he must have had more Indian than African blood in his veins. His skin was tawny red, his .nose straight, his cheek bones high, his build strong but slender, his eyes keen wild and watchful. In the evening, when the men, from 'different plantations below her brother's place (just above it was a bayou that emptied into the river, with a swift, deep, current that could not be forded) began to ride up to Vincent's Landingjin groups ot two and three to cress the river here to go to the ball in Cohatchie, Zoe saw Levi Adams sta tion himself on the bank—his norse and him self motionless as a bronze statue—and seem to be watching each one that crossed. Dan Nolan, leaning on his elbow as he lay on a bench on the piazza, observed the negro and said quietly. * That darky is rosed up to something. He has the devil waked np in him. He‘s scared and savage at once, like a grizzly that scents the dogs. He's going to try to do something, he does’nt know what. Jim Nolan, there‘11 be fun at this ball, Get your horse and go, and come back and report, We might have had an invite and led off the ball if you had'nt been a non compos. I don't fancy you‘d be welcomed there now by my lord. Never mind. Go. I want to hear the news.* At the same hour, Floyd Reese c&me out upon the veranda at Alver’s dressed for the ball. Ear lier, she had been down to the ball room put ting the finishing touches to its decorations. Coming back, with some lady friends, they had passed a shabby figure, sitting on a barrel in front of a store smoking a stubb pipe. Pretty Mrs. Perrine pointed him out. ‘Pa tience) oil a monument,’ she laughed. ‘Oi Diogones sitting on, instead of in his tub’ answered Flovd, and nobody saw that she held up Beven of her pretty, ungloved fingers—no body bat the shabby man on the barrel. The clock had jnst struck seven, when Floyd came out iu her ball dress, upon the back piaz za; walking there a little enjoying the perfum ed dusk, she stepped down into the yard, and glided among the shrubberied mazes in her floating white draperies like a descended gclond. There |was one corner of yard thickly shaded with myrtle and syringa, and with a glossy leaved vine covering the paling. Outside, close to this thick vine-screen, a figure had paused, dim in the gathering dusk. TO BE CONTINUED. THRILLING ADVENTURE. A Diver in the Clutches of a Devil Fish The Warrnambool Australia Standard gives an account of a diver being seized by an octopus or sea-devil. “The diver engaged at the Moyne River, Belfast, in removing the reef had a rather narrow escape from losing his life on Thursday evening, 7th instant. It appears that Mr. Smale had fired off a charge of dynamite and displaced a large quantity of stones at the bottom of the river. He went down to prepare for lifting these stones by the aid of chains into the punt. While engaged in rolling over a large stone he saw something which he supposed at the time was a piece of clean-look ing kelp moving about in front of where he was working. In a few seconds this object came in contact with the diver’s arm, about which it quickly coiled, partly holding him. Immediate ly as Mr. Smale touched what was coiled round his arm he became aware of his position, and tried to extricate himself from the grasp of a ‘sea devil,’ but found it a far more difficult job than he anticipated. Catching Bold of tbg part hanging from the arm he walked along the bottom of the river towards the end of it, when he saw he was firmly held by one of the feelers of a large octopHs, better known amonst sailors as the ‘devil-fish.’ Mr. Smale tried to pull the fish off' from its hold of the rocks, but without effect for some time. At last ilie fish, perhaps thinking it had not got sufficient hold or power over its prey, loosened itself from the stones and quickly transferred its feelers or arms around the diver’s legs and body. In this position Mr. Smale thought the best thing for him to do was to get up on deck as soon as pos sible, and he quickly made tracks tor the ladder which reaches from the deck of th6 punt to the bottom of the river. The diver was certainly a curious-looking object when he came up. Thi3 huge, ugly-looking thing appeared to be entang led all over him, holding him in a firm embrace. However, Mr. Smale’s lellow-workmen were not long in freeing him from the unfriendly hug of his submarine companion. The body portion of the octopus was only about the size of a large soup plate, with eyes in its head like those of a sheep, but it possessed nine arms, each about four feet in length, at the butt as thick as a man’s wrist, tapering off at the end to as fine a point as that of a penknife; thus it could spread over an area of nine feet in di ameter. All the way along the underneath part of each feeler are suckers every quarter of an inch, giving it immense power. Mr. Smale de clares it was powerful enough to keep three men underwater. While several boys were yesterday playing the national game on the sidewalk near a $40, - 000 residence, one of them said to the other: ‘Say Rob, your father has struck a legacy, hasn t he?’ ‘I dunno; why?’ was the reply. I saw him com&oat-of the gate just now all togged up to fits, and I hardly knew him.’ ‘Did he have on anhlfl.phig hat, long hair, rusty boots, coat gittin’ aniny on the elbows ?’ queried the son. ‘Not much ! He Bhone like a new pin, and his diamonds almost put my eyes out.’ ‘Oh, you met our coachman instead of father!’ explained the lad, and next moment he was ‘knuckling down tight’ to ‘plug’ a bull's eye.—[Free Press. Among the passengers of the Germania, which sailed last, week for Europe, was Miss Bijou Heron, the youthful actress, who will remain abroad for a iwo.yeaite course of study under the direction of Mr. Robert Stoepel. yr$t I shood like wood be, toj hey dollors wioh reprodoose their selves. Ef two dollors oood marry And hey large lamilies, that wood be satnin like. Dancing Birds. One Autnmn day, watching for the ducks while ensconced on a musk-rat house in the great Mendocio marsh, which extends back many miles from the Mississippi River oppo site Clinton, I noticed some objects moving on the summit of a knoll. By careful watching I discovered they were prairie fowl, and, moved by curiosity, carefully approached them. As I drew near I discovered fifteen prairie-fowls ap parently dancing a minuet. They were scatter ed about on the short turf, twenty yards apart, holding their heads at one another,and present ly two would run out and perform the figure which in a country dance is known as “cross over and back to places,” all the while uttering a soft note of “coo-cooe,” the last syllable being much elongated. Then would follow “salute your partners” and “dos a dos." This scene of merriment was sustained for half an hour and until a shot from a neighboring gun caused the birds to run into the tall cover of tne reeds. 3J!Mim 1 }*Antainn and ^he^ con- scene vividly on the spectator’s mind. A neigh boring farmer to whom /.he circumstance was mentioned, said: ‘Yes, them same birds skye around there most ly every day.’ The other varieties of prairie grouse indulge in the same kind of amusement.— Scribner's. How the Farm was Bought, A young man was very anxious to secure a piece ot property which was just then for sale on very advantageous terms. He went to confer with a frieni of his, who was a banker, about the matter, and to inquire whether it would be prudent to borrow the requisite sum, and pay it in regular installments. He thought he should be able to manage all but the first payment He was advised to borrow from the bank a sum enough larger than he wished to raise to cover the first payment, lay it strictly aside, and then go ahead. “But,“ said his friend, “you must spend lit erally nothing. You must live off of your place, lou must make a box, and drop into it all the money you receive. “ The young man and his wife went bravely to work to follow this advice. If it was necessary to dine off of a head of boiled cabbage and salt they did so, and never grumbled. Every p av ’ meat was promptly met. The egg money, and the butter money, and corn and wheat money —all went into the payment box, and at the specified time the place was theirs. There was an invisible wealth about such hard-earned possessions that common observers knew noth ing of. On the day of the last payment the yonns man presented himself before his friend with a smiling face, and with the money in hand — There were no rags to be seen, but his clothing was well covered with darns from head to foot ‘You see, I have followed your advice, ‘ he said, casting a glance over himself; • and mv wife looks worse than I do. But I have earned one farm, and now I know how to earn another. * Remarks on Eating. Professor Blot used to say it is a fact bevond all question that the intellectual and moral faculties of man are influenced in a large de gree in their operations by those physical con" ditions which are dependent upon our food Physiology proves that it is the contraction of the muscies that produces wrinkles; and a per son whose food is properly prepared appear" younger and more .beautiful than the one who follows no scientific principles in his eating Good food, properly prepared, will keep his muscles in order and elastic. v Any one, male or female, young or old start, ing with a good stomach, can keep healthy and in good flesh with proper food; it is onlv ne cessary to select the kind required by the con-" stitution and prepare it judiciously? It is not what we eat that makes us fat, but what we d s geSt ' u B i d food may bri “g a temporary bloat edness, but not the plumpness of good health He agrees with the opinion expressed by Thos" Jefferson, as well as by a celebrated New Yok lt r WrZ n ’ hat g °° d things b *ve been made by the Creator for good people. oy At the conclusion of a festival last an excellent teacher, desirous of adn^n^L^ 6 * a trifling moral lesein, taonirad T° g rfthoj bad enjoyed the repSt With’“‘JU genius modesty of youth thaw n •Yes, sir.’ ‘Then,’ Sed the exceLnf ?° nd u 6d: ‘if you had slipped into my S S®*,’ hart2 r ted b a2 r ^dS t Mw?‘ le Ev;ry WOUld ,i ‘J® 7 as, with the cheerfulness^ ai of e ’ con ld - ittle Tbom -