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Cross-Tie Tom. A TALE OF TWO TRASH'S. BT BRIDGES SMITH. CHAPTER II. Curious place is the press-room of one of our large city dailies. Deep into the ground, know ing no light but gaslight; filled with ponder ous presses that clank and clang like so many giants in coats of mail; the smoke and gloom; and the box-like recesses where news-boys and folder-boys sleep their few hours—all make up a scene fit for Hogarth’s pencil or Dickens’ pen. It is here that the news-boys recount their ad ventures, their fights and escapades. Where they speak in their own vernacular, and where they live and breathe and have their being. It was a cold night in October 18—, when the cold had driven them in from the street sooner than their usual hour for returning. They were discussing the merits and demerits of a new ac quisition to their ranks. Nearly all of them were smoking. Some with pipes, some with old cigar stumps, while the more high-toned smok ed dainty cigarettes made of brown papei and smoking tobacco. Said one: •That ther fresh cully’s got ter be ’nishiated. We haint er g«fine ter ’low am’shoors ter slip in ’thout reg’lar peroeedins.’ ‘Who’s ther new galoot anyhow, and whar did hefotch up at?’ . •He’s the bilikin that old Cross-tie Tom bridg ed here. Old Tom 6ed that he was a trampin’ it down ther on the trunk line, an’ it were agrow ing cold as git out, an’ all ter once he seed somebody ljin’ down on the railroad track, aD it was this yer new rooster. Old Tom he pick ed him up, and when ther train come ’long he told ther conductor ’bout it an both got er free ride. Old Tom sez he\his boy now,an’ sez he wants ter see him git along.’ , •Well, boys, let’s don’t nishiate him, cordin ter that.’ ,, , , , , t l* and ft chorus of black-faced boys who had hearts in them, settled that Horace, for he was the subject of their confab, should not undergo the ridiculous and painful humiliation of initiation into their fraternity. Yes. old Cross-tie Tom was making his way from L to It one day and came across the bruised and benummed outcast. His heart warmed at the sight, and from that day Horace found a friend in Cross-tie Tom. Selling newspapers in a large city is no easy thing for a new beginner, and the novice has a mountain to climb before he can make even a few cents. But with Horace the case was dif ferent. His form and features, his intelligent eyes, and his general bearing made him scores of customers. For a year he sold papers and during that time saved up a snug sum. His night time was employed in study. The usual adventures of the boys had no charm for him, and there in the smoky press-room he mastered, unaided, an education that at once placed him far beyond most boys of his age even with the advantages o» school and teacher, stood together watching the lengthening shad ows form and grow darker. ‘Were yon ever in love, Alice?’ What a question ! •Were you ever?’ What an answer! ‘ Yes ; deeply, madly, and yet bound by fear— lips commanded not to speak, heart forbidden to hope, and—’ ‘ But why ?’ ‘Because you are the daughter of my em ployer.’ ‘It was wicked for you to love me.’ ‘ Very wicked ?’ ‘No ; not very wicked ; but why didn't you love some one else ?’ ‘ Then you don‘t love me—’ ‘I didn’t say so.’ ‘But you don’t, do you ?’ ‘Just a little bit.’ And then she coyly looked up into his face and said— ‘Yes, Horace, I am yours until death do us part.’ Miss Clayton, old maid, was a vinegary sort of woman, and when she set her heart on any thing she imagined that even the rock of Gib raltar could offer no obstruction. She made up her mind in the outset that Alice should not wed ‘that printer,’ and she determined to keep up that determination at all hazards. And when she saw how happy Alice was, _ and how she skipped from room to room, singing as blithely as a lark, she knew the proposal had been made and that it was satisfactory to both parties. Then she began her operations for the future. To prevent the marriage was now her highest aim. So, one day when Mr. Clayton awoke from his accustomed after-dinner nap, she went to him and related what she believed to be the relation existing between his daughter Alice and his confidential clerk, Horace. Then she gave her reasons for opposing the union, and it must be said she held up the future hus band of the niece in no very pleasing light, and otherwise throwing celd water on a mar riage she considered disgraceful to the house of Clayton. The old gentleman listened attentive ly to all she had to say on the subject, and then dismissed her with the crushing shot that nothing on earth could give him more happi ness than that very same marriage. Miss Clayton now inwardly determined that, having failed in ore way, she would try in an other, and before morning she had concocted a scheme, which if carried out, would result very satisfactorily to her. In the meantime the lov ers enjoyed life as only lovers can, and that, too, with the smiling approval of the head of the house. The engagement was noised about in the city, and Alice’s list of admirers and suitors grew small. Only one ventured to continue his vis- ists, and that was John Blanton. You have seen these men who look as if they spent all their time in tricking and scheming, men who talk but little and seem to think all the while. Such a man was John Blanton. He set about winning Alice with the same coolness, and in the same business way that he would to creates corner in stocks. He wanted her and had his mind fully made up to have her. When he called and found the object of his -- -—--- - - *v,« ) passion not at home, he found Miss Clayton Attracting the attention othen»?*g er £ the . Lx ions to entertain him. Not that Miss Clay ton fice, he was placed in the composing; room of, ^ ^ ^ for the bache]or broker , but e newspaper, and made rapid headway as a beoange in John ^ Blanton she bad an ally, ready rrect printer. ,. • , and willing to further any scheme tending to the Cross-tie lorn often came in from his aimless 0 ° engttg ement of Alice and anderings, and it was with a pardonable pride B hat he watched the boy’s progress. There was close bond between ward and self-appointed lardian that grew stronger with time. True, orn’s manner of living,his drinkings and other nits were distasteful to Horace, and he prayed any times that his friend would turn in his ays; but he kept his own counsel and never .id aught against them. His own history was sealed book which he never opened not even r old Tom’s edification. •' 'was rur k bio whis-Ky, and When the money was me went out into the world on another tramp. The manager of the Leader office was a spruce d gentleman who had an eccentric way oi s o*n for doing things- He was a large stock- nlder in the paper, and had held his position r twenty years. His home was failed wit orksofart, and furnished with everything nding to comfort and elegance. He had one Mid. and upon her he showered the entire ealth of his.affection, for Mrs. Clay ton had een in the grave for fifteen years. Alice was dually as fond of her father Without being poiled, she grew up from infancy without a pother’s care, and blossomed into a lovely be- possessing every trait and virtue of the rue woman. Her only female adviser was Miss Eton a maiden sister of her father’s, who, pon the death of the mother, assumed the are of the little child. One day at dinner, Alice was considerab y Rtonished wben lier f&tiier Bftid. •There’s a young printer at the office, in rhorn I am much interested. He was brought 0 the office six years ago by that old tramp, 3ross-tie Tom, and commenced selling papers. took a fancy to him, and put him in the office, nd he has just completed his trade. IVhen ’ tell you that of all the young men I ever saw, ie is the best in any way you want to place him, rou need not be astonished at my intention to five him a home in this bouse. Should he fall n love with you, my dear Alice, and you recip rocate that love, I would rather see him your ausband than tho wealthiest of your suitors, tlowever, I do not bring him here for that pur pose. It is because I want to give him a home ind the position in society he so well deserves. [ shall speak to him of my plan this evening, ind I have no doubt he will accede to my wish es in this respect as he has ever done mothers. Alice was pleased and pained at this new freak of her father’s. It would give her a broth er and vet it might take away too much of her father's ffive for 8 her. She studied the matter well, and at last conquering the jealousy, pre pared to give the new-comer a cordial and sis terly welcome. As for the aunt, she snapped heroes and inwardly resolved that the daugh ter of her brother should never wed a common W °Horace was puzzled to know what Mr. Clay ton could want with him in his private office. 1 He was delighted beyond measure an hour latei to know that he was to hrve a home, and what was bettor, the position of confidential clerk. That night Horace was installed as one of the members of Mr. Clayton’s family. . He .. th ? ug ^ Alice an aDgel, and Alice thought him the hand somest and noblest man in the world. The dreams that night of those young people were dreams iua k dreamed of each other, and ffiSAS* of bappio... in .11 tb The d d r ay“faowsped fast. If Mr. Clayton’s lux tame was happy before the entrance of urious borne The onager grew “"""id more .Uiched to hi. clerk, «od so did be^fttoly ^tro^g’ed^hiiiidehis As for Fear of incurring thedispleas- .nd fear of not being cared ore of bis empny * kept b j m a t bay. Nowand for only as a brother k P iteelf to tb „ •«■?? ““; g bSt a., iori.™. held b«k. decla'eh’.io ’ Jgj^ of lWng , u«i! He 52 SnlJ hiSu*. and dr. only an adthly an- 'll and in the twilight They It was somewhat embarrassing, tfaough, for Miss Clayton to broach the delicate subject to Mr. Blanton. It reauired some courage, and it cost her a severe pang to plot against the hap piness of her brother's only child. But she had marked out her coarse in the matter, and had now gone too far to retrace her steps. She cien- tioned her plans to Blanton and that_inuiyjdj3f(l was*to destroy the good name and character of Horace so as to have him condemned by Mr. Clayton. Wicked as this course may seem, these two plotters adopted it unanimously, and at once arranged on the details of the black t>u D< Mr Clayton made it a rule to be in bis office at'eleven o’clock every morning. If persons called to see him before that hour they were in formed that the manager would be there exact ly at eleven. Hence there was always some one waiting for his coming; but no matter how im portant their mission, they were forced to wait until the old gentleman went through the time- honored custom of looking about the room to see if the sweep-boy had performed his duties well, and then arranging the letters and papers on his desk so that he could get at them without ge Abouuf month after Alice and Horace had de clared their love, Mr. Clayton found a seedy in dividual with a very important air awaiting him. Usually he paid but little attention to the people who came to see him, but this seedy individual rather interested him ; and, strange to sav he omitted the examination of tfae sweep-boy’s work, and beckoned to the impor- tant mdividual to be seated. That worthy at once placed a chair alongside of him, then hemmed and hawed as if he was about to di vulge the greatest of secrets. ‘My name is Jackson, and I am from Canada. I learn that you have in your employ a young man by the name of Huntingdon. Now, I am fully aware of the fact that yon are greatly attached to the young man, and hence beg of you to be prepared for a disclosure somewhat Clayton, 'if y.t» business with me is to bring information dam aging that young man’s character, the interview * 8 ‘I knew you would be astonished,’ coolly re marked the man, * but I have the proofs—the Something in the man’s manner seemed to convince Mr. Clayton that possibly he might have information that would be ot use to him, Horace was occupying a very important position in his business, and was soon to oc cupy a still higher one in his family. He, therefore, told the man to proceed. Now 1 have no further interest in this matter than to warn you against taking steps that might lead to disastrous consequences. I have proof that Horace Huntingdon spends nearly all he makes honestly, and perhaps more that he makes in other ways, upon a woman who lives in B . He makes her remittances every weekly pay day, and once a month he goes to see her. To prove this, follow my instructions. On your pay-day, watch the office boy whom he entrusts with the sending of this money, and day, come to me with the letter that you register.’ The boy valued his place too highly to diso bey, and when the day came around he carried the letter to the manager. Ever since the arri val of the seedy man, Mr. Clayton had lived a different life. He had studiously avoided any mention of the affair to any one, resolved upon obtaining facts before taking any steps in the matter. And when the letter was brought to him the wicked thought came into his head, that, under the circumstances, he would be jus tifiable in reading it. Was fiot his daughter’s happiness at stake ! These and a thousand oth er reasons came pouring down upon .him, and turning the key in the door, he opened the let ter and read as follows: “Dear Laura—I can only send you a few dol lars this week, which I trust will meet yonr wants. You know I am to be married soon, but as that event will not interfere with our rela tion, I will continue to do iuy duty by you. Yours as ever, H. H.” Mr. Clayton bowed his head on his desk, and there were tears in his eye. Here was actual proof of Horace’s guilt, and now his duty was plain. With a pain tugging at his heart he wrote. ‘Mr. Huntingdon: For reasons satisfactory and best known to myself, you are from the reading of this letter, no longer in my employ, and, furthermore, the relationship existing be tween yourself and my daughter is at end. You need not trouble yourself to offer any plea in extenuation of yonr conduct,as it will not for a moment be entertained, and I cl it not desire to look upon your face again. J. Clayton.’ Puzzled and mortified Horace read and re read the note. It was plain and needed no in terpretation. He sent for his trunk and was once more on the world. Miss Clayton received the news with ill-con cealed gratification. Alice, on the other hand, was grief-stricken, although she knew that her father would not have taken the step had he not been in possession of the proof, yet there was a something that told her that her lover was innocent. She obeyed her father in the com mand to mention his name no more, but all the proof in the whole world could not have lessen ed the love she bore Horace Huntingdon. Guil ty or not guilty, he held her heart then and for ever. I was very busy the next day, owing to a sud den rush of work, so I called up the veteran to help me out. Ho was still firm in the belief that his boy would come along after awhile, and during the morning his tongue never ceased in recounting the wonderful and fearful risks they had run in stealing rides on trains. In the midst of one of his yarns, we heard a quick step on the stairs, and the old man dropped his stick with the exclamation, ‘that s him now !’ and rushed to meety him. bare enough, it was the boy. In all my time, I never looked upon a finer specimen of humanity. Tall, broad-shouldered, full chested, perfectly moulded, with a face fit for the frame of Adonis, he was the true model of the perfect man. The old man had spoken the truth so far as the physique of his pard was concerned, and my romance began to assume a reality. The veteran, whom we had discovered to be no other than the famous Cross-Tie Tom, brought the tramping Adonis and introduced him with as much formality as if he had been the Prince of Wales. I gave him work and we formed a curious trio—the two strange tramps and myself, deeply interested and not knowing why. Huntingdon proved himself to be a first-class workman. He was correct, swift, and could set Hebrew, Latin, or French quotations as easily as English. By tacit conseut, I had so placed the tramps that they could work on the same stand, and thus converse together without my interference and presence. Theyr-geve the de tails of each other’s trips—laugiV-V at each iv , '«s r ii»PV> r 8« f n-^y na'ci Plenty of money and were not roaming vagabonds. \ When I went home I told wife Oi. .he g.a<-ta rival. She was delighted. And it seemed as though we—wife and I—were happier. NV hy . That was the puzzle. Being a gloomy day, darkness came long be fore time to quit work, aud we gathered around ^Lookhere, boys,’ said I, ‘there’s something strange in the fact that Huntingdon heie should be on the tramp. He is a number one printer, and Tom tells me he does not — Now, satisfy my curiosity enough to tell me Wb H is true that there is no necessity for lead ing such a life. My history is a sad ° n *’ a T nd -u do not care to relate it; but this much of it I wi tell vou, aud it will give you at least one reason why I am a tramp. I was at one time m a po sition of trust and honor. I was discharged tor some unknown cause, and finding rnywlt sud- dently without friends, I concluded that the onlv wav in which I could remove certain thin 0 s from mv mind was to take up the let of a tramp, and thus by privations, hardships and chang ing scenes,free myself from memorie s painful in one scense and pleasant in another. Having lost that which was the capstone to mj ambi tion, I have no high aim, and if by being the companion of this gentleman who at one time rendered me the greatest service in my life, i could afford at least one person any pleasure or service, I am content with my lot, however de graded it may appear to those better oil. Given so earnestly, I accepted the reason, and from that time treated my friends as well-bred gentlemen who were accidentally unfortunate. Work improving, I found it necessary to keep the printers on, and every day my interest m them increased. Other tramps came in, but they did not tarry. There was one, however, who seemed to hang on as if too tired to risk his legs anv further. He formed an acquaintance with my hands, and they invited him to sleep on the office floor with them. . . Payday came, and Tom took in his usual allow ance of whisky. The new tramp came in for a share of Tom's liquor, and became exceedingly loquacious. Huntingdon!, who appealed as i lavished to avoid Tom when drunk vfent out for a walk, and while he was gone, I to* a seat after work hours, and listened to the two drun- r»en printers. Sftid tlie newest. 8 °Y P ou see, old pard, a fellow does a good many mean things for money, wont he ? s ‘ Of cousre, of coufc'se. ‘ ‘Well vou see, I done a job once for a fifty dollar note that busted things up c0 ““ lde ^ 1 ?’ and pledge you my word. I‘ve been sorry tor it ever since ! Now, I‘ll tell you what it was, but I want you to promise me one thing—will you do it ?’ n r :“,i j “ d panrait of tbeir fugitive to be a fact to this day. Tom took this valuable information as a man takes liquor. is valuable information as a man “““ uer iar irorn nome, iney The more he takes the better he S* 601 rath f r th “ retnrn 7 -- to the old one. The queens lay all the eggs, then the nurse-ants have the care of the eggs 7 them nnt in unn feels. He was fceside himself with joy. And yet he was in doubt whether to tell Hunting- ™ ^“them in eggS , don or to reserve it and work up a grand sur- SdtakettJS Wk^ in ^VP 81 ^ pri». But Tom loved his pet too well^to keep from him a secret of so much importance. And when the young man came in, the story was told just as the tramp had given it. Of course any man feels happy at the vindi cation of his wrongs; but Horaoe seemed reluc tant to give the new information to Mr. Clay ton. Four years had flown since he left his roof, and all through that time Alice wasas dear to him as if there had been no barrier to their love. Tom persuaded him, however, to write and explain the matter but without expressing any desire to return. Accordingly when I left the office that night Horace was writing a letter that was to make more than one heart glad. When I went home of course I had to tell of the new discovery. ‘What is the name of the young tramp ? in quired my wife when I had finished. ‘Horace Huntingdon.’ With a scream my wife fell, fainting, to the floor. When brought to herself, she told me that Horace was her brother ! ‘Great goodness!’ thought I, ‘how much of a romance are we making of those tramps. Yes, the war came on and all the wealth and fine property of Colonel Huntingdon was lost. Reduced to almost poverty, the cruel pride took a lofty tumble, and he moaned for his son as Jacob moaned the loss of Joseph. The fami ly moved into another state and began life anew. I had married Julia, and the boys had gone to work to retrieve their father^ lost fortune. They had long since given up Horace as dead, and moaned for him as such. At this intelligence I went to the office, and finding Tom asleep, invited Horace to supper with me. Of course he refused on account of his dilapidated wardrobe, but I pressed him so hard that he finally consented. It was a joyous meeting between brother and sister. So much to tell of, so mujh to regret— they talked until midnight. I gave my new found brother-in-law a room, and in the morn ing provided him with my best clothes. Then he renounced tramping and became himself again. In a few days he showed me these three letters. My Dear Son: Your forgiveness is all I could ask. I am veFy happy. Come let us fold you to our hearts. T. Huntingdon. My Dear Horace : Yours of the 10th to hand. I cannot^expect, nor even hope for your forgive ness; but I long to see you here not in your old position but as manager. I am too old to attend to the duties, and there is but one man under the sun whom I will resign in tavor of and that man is you. Alice writes with this. She never for a moment considered you guilty. J. Clayton. My Dear Horace: Your sweet letter cam safely with its burden of joyful news. I n re ply to your inquiring I would say that I have never cared to take away the poor heart I gave you. It is yours for eternity. Come at once to see the happiest woman on earth. Alice. No wonder the boy was happy. The romance was reality, after all, and what was better, we took considerable stock in it. Horace soon left us and took the position made vacant by Mr. Clayton. He gave old Tom a life situation on the ‘ad cases,’ and the old veteran has given his saored word never to tramp again. Laura, the little waif, whom Horace had picked up and educated, was happily married to an eminent lawyer of B , and her first born is named Horace Huntingdon. me r to P——? t0 8ome ‘day'and" see a strong, broad-shouldered man romping with a couple of pretty children, wlrde his wife iooks on and occasionally says : ‘Look, Horace, don’t muss up my geranium bed,’ you’ll thmk that it lias more truth than fiction. (THE END.) running off; sometimes the queen leaves. fVi n nnann nnt nnnnnm, ^ a. — _ 11 Bcamper away in pursuit of their fugitive queen. If they find her far from home, they Q n All? anttlamnnt •/,1k 1L » .. PREMIUM ESSAYS —ON— ANTS AND DEES. Ants. There are a great many different kinds of ants. Some of them are very small and their houses are very tiny indeed. Others are large and make large houses, containing rooms and nurse ries and places to keep provisions. Ike kind ot ant which builds such large ant-hills, or houses, is called the white ant. When the auts build a great many houses, they join them together and form a city. They choose a kiug and qneen to rule over them and build a fine large room, in which they place the king and queen. lhey build rooms all around them and have guards to watch over them, and other ants to wait on them and work for them. They feed the king and queen so well and take such good care ot them that they grow to be very large and majes tic and cannot get out of fneir room at all. Ice auts build passages from one room to another and from one building to another and they have staircases to go up to higher rooms. They build bridges, too, and do many curious and wonder ful things. There is a kind of aat called the legionary ant, which is very fierce and brave, but is not fond of work. The legionary ants go in great crowds. They are of a light color and can sting terribly. They are great thieves They steal other ants when they are young and make slaves of them. They are such drones that they would soon die, it they did not have these negro ants to work for them and wait on tfaem. The negro anis are very kind to them and seem to delight in working for them. Once a gentleman, who was studying the habits ol ants, put some of these legionary ants into a bottle with some dirt and provisions, but they would not even t^ike the trouble to pick up what had been given tffiem and in two or three days, several of tfaem died. H ® then put one negro ant into the bottle with them and it at once went to work building rooms and placing tfae legionary ants in them. It fed them and t rea ' ed them very kindly. Ants are very patient ant not easily discouraged. IOU Will ttWU U1DVV7»va , j I have told you this for the good of yourself and daughter. You have only to follow my instruc tions to see the truth of what I say,’ and then the seedy individual Bhot out of the office like a The new disclosure was crushing to Mr. Clay ton Hitherto he had trusted Horace implicitly, and believed him to be as pure as the purest of men, but now there was a cloud. He sum moned the office boy. . •Dick, does Mr. Huntingdon give yon money every week to send to some one inB — ? ‘Yes, sir; I have been sending five dollars a week for him for a year.’ • What is the name of the person r ‘ Miss Laura Clayton Hines.’ • Well, that’s all I want with yon; but mind von, don’t say a word about this conversation to any one, not even Mr. Huntingdon. Next pay Of course, of course.’ __ T seo r fo( l yourselfTrthese* weekly sums are 'sent. I ‘I want you to promise ^^m^hMk^ut/ Yon will also discover the name of his mistress, ed up, wont kick up and knock my efaun AOU ’ 1 • Of course, of course. ‘ . ‘Well, now see here ; this is business, xoa remember old Clayton up there in P • ‘Of course, of course.’ •Well, old Clayton had a sister, and she give me a fifty dollar note if I’d go to the old. man and put up a job on your young ftiend Hunt ingdon.’ In an instant the old man was as sober as a judge. He straightened up and told his fellow tramp to go on. •Well, 1 put up the job and Huntingdon was turned out of doors. The way of it was tnis: Miss Clayton had fonnd out that Huntingdon was in the habit of sending money every week to a girl that he had picked np in the s*? m8 and was educating at a college in B ibe , n she got me through a feltovt named Blanton, to go to Clayton and represent this girl aa hia mia- Hazlehursx, Ga., April 10, 1878. Mr. John H. Seals, Atlanta, h'a.-Dear sir: I have just subscribed for your paper and like it very much. I’m just thirteen years old; have never written anything for a newspaper, but have decided to tell yon what I know about ants, with Hie hope of getting a premium. The white ants have towns and colonies. In every family o tribe of ants there are three classes: the males, which have wings all the time; the females hav ing wings only a part of the year; and pother kmd whioh never have wings, and which do moBt of the work, being called on this amount servants, neuters and sometimes wmr-ants, be cause this class has the chief care of the eggs, grubs, oocoons and young ants. Early in the season when the ants commence work, the males and females may be seen among the workers, having white glistening wings, mixing with the workers who watoh them diligently, posting sentinels in the neighborhood, and never allow ing their winged friends to go beyond the limits without a guard. Sometimes ant .ettl^ m enta aft deserted on account of the females night, continuing this until the eggs haVsh out into grubs; the grubs eat a great deal, and being helpless, they cannot feed themselves, but aro fed by the nnrse-auts. The second stage is the cocoon period; the grubs spin webs and wrap around their bodies; then they are cocoons, which are cared for by the nurse-ants in the same manner that the eggs were. They resem ble small grain, and some people have imagined when seeing them dragging the cocoon into their homes, that it was realty grain they were storing away for winter use, but that is a mistake, as ants never eat grain. The neuters are of the same use in the colonies as servants are to us. They are really their slaves, which have to make the streets do fill their mining, masonry and fertilizing ; all this they do very skillfully with no other tool than their jaws. Ants live principally on honey, or some thing sweet, they frequently make rades on su gar dishes and preserve jars, but they get most of their honey honestly from little insects called amphides or lice, such as we frequently see on cabbage when they are going to seed, these in sects are of the same use to them, that cows are to us. When the ants find these amphides, they touch them lightly with their feelers, or horn3, and they will dart out a drop or two of honer from two little tubes on their backs, whioh the ant devours, and then passes on to the next, and continues in this way until they get enough or rather as much as they can carry, or they aro required to sustain the young ants and grubs. Ants guard these insects with great care, and they even sometimes build walls of defence ar ound them, just as we pen cattle ; they are their cows. Ants even have real war, fight great bat tles, storm forts, and carry off the plunder, which consists in eggs, grubs and cocoons, all of which when they reach maturity are classed as slaves, and have to act acordingly. I could enlarge on this subject and say a great deal more in regard to the habits of ants, but fearing you will consider what I have said too much, I’ll close. Please excuse all my mistakes. I am most Respectfully, Sallie W. McRae. Hazlehurst, No. 8i, M. & B. R. li. Ga. Essay on Bees. We read of bees in the early ages of the world. The Bible tells us that the children of Israel were brought out of Egypt into ‘a 1 .nd flowing with milk and honey’ and other ancient writers speak of their being reared in hives and made useful very much as we have them now. This faithful little worker furnished a luxury for man for ages, and he accepted and enjoyed it witout caring to look into its wonderful con struction and habits. fVe owe our knowledge now to Frances Huber, of Genoa. Ee lost hi3 sight when young from too close application to tho study of insects, but he became so interest ed in bees that he still kept on, first by the aid of a servant, then by his wife and afterwards by his son. He published the result of all this care and study in a series of letters in 1792. He divides them into three classes—the qneen or mother, the male or drone and the war bee. There is but one queen to a hi7e, and here whole time is occupied in laying eggs in the small cells prepared for her by the little work ers. She has a sting, but is gentle and timid unless a rival queen comes in her realm, then she fights furiously until she is again the sole ruler. If it is near the time fora swarm, in queen will leave the hive, take a part of her subjects with her and form a new colony. She lays about one hundred thousand eggs in a year. The drones are larger than the queen but they never work, depending upon the little workers for their daily food. They have no sting and are too indolent to use it if they had one. The workers feed them two or three months, but when the flowers begin to fail they sting them to death. As there are from five hundred to fifteen hundred drones in a hive, it is well to dispose of them when food is scarce. The workers are said to be undeveloped fe males. Herber and others have tried experi ments by removing the queen from the hive when the workers would immediately break in to the cells containing the larvae, form larger cylindrical cells in which they would plan the worker larvae and feed them on the richest diet. In a few days they are again awarded by having a queen to rule over them. The construction of the little workers is indeed wonderful. They are smaller than the queen or drone and as they have the work to do, and provided with a sting which they are not slow in using if they are im posed upon. They are supplied with little bowls or baskets on the outside of the hinder thighs, which they use for carrying the pollen of the flowers to feed the young. These little baskets are surrounded by long hairs to which the pol len adheres when they go down into the flower. They use their feet for brushing it into their baskets so that it ean be safely carried to the hive. Bees are entirely dependent on plants. Their cells are attached to the hives and ail cracks closed by a glutinous substance called propolis;the pollen furnishes food for the young, and honey is the sweet juices of the flowers that go through some chemical change in their bod ies and is disgorged through their mouths into the cells prepared for it. Wax is secreted in their bodies by dig* s'.ion and comes out in little scales between "the rings of their abdomen. There are from ten to thirty thousand workers in a swarm and as they are always busy it is not wonderful that we have honey in abundance. When a new colony goes into a hive the workers immediately begin making their cells of wax. They are hoxagonal (six sided) and a strong swarm can make as many as four thousand in a dav In these the mother bee deposits her eggs. The eggs laid in the fall and winter produce only workers. In the spring the workers make several hundred six sided cells much larger than the first. The eggs laid in these produce drones. The cells for queeas are quite dinsr- ent, being cylindrical and as there are but few of these favored grubs they can afford to teed them on diet indeed fit for a queen. A queen will live four or five years. Howard McCall. McCall’s Mills, Georgia. The Honey Bee. The Bee I might say belongs to the insect kingdom (if such a kingdom there is.) He is a very busy insect. In the summer he extracts from the flowers all the honey they yield and puts it away with that of hia other brethren,lor his winter meal, that he may have it when the flowers have faded, and the honey dried np. Many other insects put away their winter ration, but none are so delicious as honey. The Bee generally has his hive in a hollow tree. It anyone or thing goes there to disturb them or take their honey they are veiy apt to feel their stingers. The honey is generally taken at night. A fire is built a shortways off from the tree, the brightness of the fire attraots the Bees and a great many of them are burnt to death. Oh . how oruel it is. I hope no reader of the Boss and Girls oould enjoy suoh a scene. I will not longer tire you on thia subject. John. E. Wrigh*. Plain View P. 0., King and Queen Co. Ya.