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31 )t iUontiunncru i-Uonitor. D C. SUTTON,Edit >r and Prop’r. A- They I,nok out to Sea. I Raw two women stnmiiiiK on 11 hill That looked out toward the sea. Tho face ot one Was worn and seamed with care, yet calm and still Like one whose work is done, Tho other's was yourtfr and fresh and fair. And yet within her heart there seemed to lie Some sorrow, nivine her a pensive air, As she looked out to sea. They looked not at the wind-blown flowers that lay About their feet, but followed with their eyes A stalely vessel, sailing- on her way. Where billows fall and rise. The maiden, though her face bespoko her grief At parting from her lover, yet seemed fain To lull tier sorrows with the fond belief That they would meet again. No so tho other, for her trembling lip Told that she thought that she had lost her sou; That ere again those waters know her ship Her life’s voyage would bo done. They waved their kerchiefs, thinking they could seo An answering signal from the vessel's deck; Then watched the ship until it seemed to bo (July a distant speck. They watched it out of Sight, then turned away With heavy stop and heavier hearts, and hands Locked in each other's, while tho twilight gray Settled upon the lands. And as they slowly took their homeward path From either heart went up a silent prayer That heaven would arrest the tempest wrath, And one dear sailor spare. O ship! receding 'twixt the waves and skies, Swift lie thy going, swift thy coming bo; Gladdening his mother’s and his sweetheart’s eyes, As they look out to sen. "few York Ledger. THE REIGNING BELLE. It was the great private ball of tho season, given by an acknowledged leader of fashion, the widow of a mil lionaire. There was all the usual brilliancy of light. Hash of jewels, richness of costume. Two gentlemen, with tho slightly bored expression of habitual frequent ers of such scenes, stood together, criticising rather freely the beauty be fore them. “I see some now faces,” Sidney Carll said, his eyes sweeping over the figures whirling to the sound of a Strass waltz. “Some!” echoed his companion. “I should imagine so after—liow many years?” “Eight. I have been away most of the time; but even the Continent can scarcely surpass this iu private life, Gordoil i” mi l ho to faco his companion, his whole tone full of excited interest. “Who is that tall goddess in wine-colored velvet talking to Mrs. Erskiue?” “You, loo!” laughed his'companion. ■“No one sees Miss Bentley but ask 3 the question with the same eager ness.” “Miss Bentley! But who is she? “She is Mrs. Erskine’s niece, for one thing. She is the reigning belle of three seasons, for another. She is un disputed possessor of several hundred thousands, lor another.” “And still Miss Bentley?” “And still Miss Bentley; as cold, as unapproachable as one of the marblo goddesses in the wall-niches opposite us. There is a romantic story about her. Her mother, so gossip asserts, ran away with a low sort of fellow, who was an Adonis in humble life. She died early, and this child was brought up in poverty, in a country home, by a drunken father and an unkind aunt. It is no shame to repeat this, since, in spite of her surroundings, she grew rip to a noble womanhood. About six years ago her father died, and, relent ing, left her his entire fortune. Mrs. Erskine, her mother’s sister, already wealthy, as you know, instead of re senting her father’s will, at once sent for her niece, put her iu the bauds of the best masters, and introduced her to society. She became a belle at once, counts her admirers • by dozens, but will give encouragement to none.” “A soeietv flirt!” . “iou were never more mistaken. Miss Bentley docs not exercise the first principles of flirtation. She is a per fect Diana in coldness.” “Yet wins other hearts, as —she has won yours.” “Why should I deny it? No man need blush to own ho loves a woman he believes to be a perfect ideal of womanly perfection.” “Ah!” Something in the tone of the excla mation made Frank Gordon look searchingly into his companion’s face. It was a handsome face. It was uu evil face. The eyes were crafty and cruel, the lips sneered too readily, and never had eyes and lips more truiy be trayed their possessor than at the mo ment when that “Ah!” escaped him. A deadly cold seemed to clutch for one moment Frank Gordon’s heart. What did this man know of Hester Bentley? What diabolical meaning was there in that cold, cruel smile? While he looked, his companion’s face altered. A look, that was almost fear, crept into his eye-, end he grew pale. Following his glance, Frank Gordon saw that it rested upon Hester Bent ley’s face, and saw in that face a cor responding look of terror, but far more emphasized. Sue was always pale, her rare beauty of the statuesque order, but as he look ed, he thought the sudden ghastly pal lor was more suited to shroud and cof fin than to velvet, jewels, and ballroom glare. A3 a bird approaches a serpent, fas cinated, so she came slowly towards them, seeming to move more by mech anism than by volition of with Slow ly, slowly, unheeding some wondering gazers, crossing the wide room alone, threading her way past the dancers, until she stood face to face with Sidney Garik Her voice even was changed as -she said; “Sidney Carll!” “At your service,” ho said mocking ly- His voice seemed to break tho strange icy spell that bound her, and she rccoguizcd Frank Gordon by a gen tle inclination of her stately head. “Where have you been?” sho asked Sidney, “for eight years?” “Abroad!” he said briefly. “Leaving mo to suffer a thousand deaths by your silence?” “You flatter me.” 110 answered, still with his cruel mocking smile. “I must speak with you, Air. Gor don,” she said,“and Mr. Carll will not, I think, refuse to hear me. Will you give me your arm to the library? Mr. Carll. will you join us?” A shrug of tho shoulders, a low bow, and the gentleman expressed his will ing obedience to the lady's command. The sudden change from the ball room to the quiet library seemed to steady the lady’s nerves. Sho had trembled so violently in the shorl walk from one room to the other that her escort had to give her very real sup port and assistance, but as she closed tho door of the library she gathered up new courage, and her voice, though low. was clear, as site said: “Air. Gordon, a few short weeks ago you honored me by a proposal of mar riage. Do not think me bold or un maidenly to mention Ibis before a third person until 1 toll you my reason. 1 refused you, and yet, in spite of my utmost endeavor to conceal the truth, you knew that I loved you. What ag ony it cost me to send you away—to try to tear you out of my heart —you can never know. I loved you, but I would not marry you because I be lieved, and have believed for years— eight long weary years—that 1 had blood-stained bands—that 1 had mur dered the man I know to-night still lives.” “Your intention to murder mo was good,” was the cold sneering answer. “You know that to bo false—as false as all else in your cruel faithless life. But Air. Gordon, will, 1 think, believe me.” “In all things,” was the quiet firm assurance. “You know a little of my life,” she said, turning her pale beautiful faco towards him; “but its utter misery and desolation no one can over know but myself. Aly aunt hated mo, grudging me my very existence; my father never drew a sober breath. At seventeen I had never had any knowledge of home Happiness or homo love 1 found my only pleasure in study, anif u,o ola minister of tho village lent mo books, and helped me. Brain-hunger he sat isfied; heart-hunger I boro for years. “Into such a life romance and dream ing come with a force that happy girl 3 can hardly imagine, and I dreamed impossible visions of love and lovers. And with my empty heart, my vision ary longings, I met Sidney Carll. He was to me tho embodiment of every hero of whom I had ever read-hand some, winning, gracious. Why ho made himself my apparent lover 110 alono can tell; for, winning all my girlish dovotion, ho gavo me only a semblance of love iu return. I am very frank, and if I pain you, forgive me, for I must tell tho whole truth now. “I was but seventeen, but, with all tho fervor of youth, all tho tender po etry of imagination, I invested my hero with every virtue, and gave him a worshipping love. Aud by every art bis false heart had studied, he wooed me to love him. How could my ig norance meet his craft? How could iuv innocence suspect his falsehood? Ail through one long summer he made my life a fool’s paradise, and I was blindly, utterly happy, scarcely look ing forward a day, so completely con tent in the present. We lived near the sea, and within easy walking distance of our cottage there was a high rocky cliff, overhanging deep water, many feet below. Oftentimes I have turned sick and dizzy looking over tho rocky ledge down to the angry waters that dashed against it far below. But it was a favorite walk, the approach from the village being a gradual as cent. Here I met my loviy often, walking to and fro upon the edge of the cliff, thinking nothing of danger, when my hero was beside me. I was a fool, I grant, but I had some excuse for my folly, for never was a great lady more delicately, tenderly wooed and won. “Autumn enmo, and in October Mr. Carll told me be must return to tho c jty—to his homo and business. One more walk upon the cliff, and then he must leave me. But even then I did not doubt his loyalty, or that he would return to me. I met him on the cliff walk, and then he told me a cruel truth. In words so gently spoken they might have been a caress, he told me he was not free, but the promised hus band of a great city belle—a woman for whom he professed to have no lovo, but who had social position, accom plishments, riche3- —all that I had not. And as I stood dazed, stunned, his words ringing like a knell in my be wildered brain, he came towards me with extended arms, crying: “ ‘You have never kissed me! Kiss me now, in token of forgivness!’ “All the woman in my child’s heart rose to resent the insult, and when he was near to me I ' pushed him back with all my force—pushed him, as Heaven is my witness, only to prevent his touching me! But I was strong and angry, and mv arms had an un suspected force. I pushed him over the cliff- A; he reeled and vanished 1 from my sight my senses left me, and I fell. I must have lain long uncon scious, for it wa3 dark when at last I fully awoke and realized what I had done —what I was! 1 She covered her face for a moment. AIT. VERNON, MONTGOMERY, CO., (1A„ THURSDAY, NOVEMBER I, 1886. while both mon stood silently waiting, ono in a sullen defiance, tho 6ther with a pity too deep for commonplace words. “How ho escaped,” Hester present ly continued, “I cannot toll; but I have carried for eight years my heavy bur den of undeserved remorse. Could I go to a good man's home with such a sin upon my soul? Could Ibo tho wifo of a good man, bolioviug myself a murderess?” “If you have quite finished this dra matic explanation,” said Sidnoy Carll in a cold voice, “perhaps you will kindly excuse my presence at the love scene.” Frank Gordou stepped quickly to- I wards him, but Hester’s hand fell upon his arm. “No violence,” sho ploaded. “Let him go. I wished to speak before him, and I would like now to ask him for what crimo I was made to boar so heavy a punishment. “What crime?” was tho fierce quick answer. “The crime of attempted murder. Just by a hair’s-broadtli did I escape tho rocks below the cliff', and fall into deep water. Stunned for a moment, I rose again with all my wits about me, and swam to tho nearest placo where I could scramble ashore. Tho tragody ended tamely, anil by midnight I was half-way to tho city. But I would never liavo lifted what you call your burden but that accident had favored you.” Ho opened' the door and passed out. A moment of silence followed, aud then a low pleading voice asked: “Can you forgivo me?” “1 love you—l lovo you!” was tho answer. And so out again to tho crowded ballroom, where none suspected that a life’s secret had been told—a life’s misery lifted in the short half-hour of absence. And when the engagement was an nounced, nothing was known in society of tho reason of tho sudden change iu tho beautiful Miss Bentley, whoso hap piness gave new charm to her manner, new music to her voice. He Couldn't Fit Him With a Pair of Shoes. A negro, with nothing but a raggod look and a pair of big shoes to distin guish him, entered Bubo Hoffenstcin’s store at New Orleans and asked to look at some shoos. “Vat number do you vear? Hoffen stcin. “I don’t ’zactly ’member,” replied tho negro, “but it’nears tt'Jrtoen ” and uc 1 13 flOmun IIWI xOUIIU-IJ, .HIVI he held up a broad, flat-looking foot, which shut out the light from tho door like a screen. “My gr-r-aeious!” exclaimed Hoffen stcin as he gazed at tho dimensions of tho negro’s pedal extremity, “es your feet was a gouplo us inches longer, my frent, dey would be a hair us vings, un ven Gabrial blays his drumpet all you vould has to do is to vork your feet und you flys shustso good as a little mock ingbird. Aly gr-r-acious, vat feet!” “Look liyar,” said tho negro, indig nantly, “I didn’t conic to dis store to bo ’suited. I nebber talk’bout anybody, and I ain’t gwine to low anybody to talk ’bout mo. God made dem feet, and ’pinted me to tote’em frow dis world, an’ you ain’t got no right to find fault wid dem. Pokes have mighty ’spisable ways dese times, ’pears to me.” “Veil, my front, you don’t must get mad, you know. Ts you see my broder’s feet vot vas in ! • v Jersey, you don’t dink you vas nobody. Vy, if my brod er vas in New Orleans, und valk on his hands in de summer dime, ho nefer get Bdruek on de head mit de sun. His feet vould be dwice as much petter as an umprella. He vasbroud us his feet, my frent, und eferypody vot has been any vere near him say dot dey vas his sdrongest point.” “I didn’t come hyar to talk ’bout feet,” said the negro, “I come fur de ’spress purpose ob gettin’ er pair ob shoes; if you ain’t got any, say so, an’ I’m gwine somewhar else.” “Vait, my frent. Herman, come and dake a look at do shentleman’s feet und Bee if dere vas anyding in de store vot wil vit him.” The clerk did as he was bidden, and said there was not a pair of shoes in tho house that was large enough. “If you is all gwine to Keep a shoo store,” said the negro in disgust, “why don’t you liab shoes on hand dat will lit fokes.” “Veil, my frent,” replied HolTenstein, “ve don’t can afford to keep shoes in do Stock vat will vit your feet. It vould pay us petter, you know, to put a lid und a gouple us handles to dese kind us shoes, und sell dem for ledder trunks,” and with a bland smile HolTenstein bowed the negro out. — New Orleans Times-Democrat. The Umbrella For Flirtation. There is one particular in which tho umbrella, as the girls have all learned, is far superior for flirtation purposes to the handkerchief, or the glove or the fan. or any other article that a lady us ually carries in her band. If she sees 1 the dude coming with a look of want ing t< flirt in bis eye, and she happens to be with her mamma so that that cor rect body cannot sec the dude, who al ways passes, if he is skillful in the art, next to the girl and not next to the cor rect mamma. Then; with the umbrel la as a shield, the girl casts a quick glance at the young dude, of coquetry and triumph mingled. She passes on and brings the umbrella to a plumb line and looks innocently at her correct mamma by her side and asks demurely: “What were you saying, mamma, dear?” The umbrella in the hands of such a girl is a bonanza.— Han Francis co Chronicle. “SUB DEO FACIO FORTITER.” An Open Field. In this great country of ours wo lire continually wanting more food; our de mands keep pace with the supply,while if there ho a superabundance, our cousins across water arc glad enough to take it from us. It follows, then, that tln.no is to be money made in farm ing. People must eat; therefore the 1 food-producer has the means of inde pendence at hand. Why do not young men possessed of small capital dismiss all idea Vs a professional or mercantile life undtuni farmers? The problem of how to snake a living can be more sat isfactorily solved by falling back on the soil than by any other experiment. There arc still cheap lands in the West j and South, and if a voting man lacks money to farm or. a big scale, lie can | begin ill a smaller way, and by stock raising, small trnits, truck patching or some otfhor limited os-ays in this whole some and useful field of agriculture se cure a living, and, with reasonable for tune, in time a competence. There are I hundreds of young men in cities who | could, in a few years, save up enough money,'if they were so inclined, to buy a little place and devote themselves to raising food for tho ever-increasing mil lions of consumers in the country. With all the hardships of farm life, and they have been greatly exaggerated, it. is tho happiest life known to men. It is freer from the bickerings and the worrimonts a.nd the tortuous devices and the selfish rivalries and the antagonisms that mark the struggle of humanity for food, shel ter and clothing than any other mode of existence. It is a life which is common ly attended with health, with good ap petite and digestion, sound sleep, clear complexion, expanded lungs, firm mus cles, an open mind and an untroubled conscience. A fanner is his own mas ter, and to bo that is a thing to bo cov eted and sought after. The brave aud energetic young fellow who lias made a good selection of a little farm in a well watered valley, and who means to bo forehanded and avoid debt and slavery, can in time, unless he is signally unfor tunate, bo his own master in every proper sense, and he will find this freo and beautiful open-air life a thousand fold happier than the artificial life of towns. Here there is a field that is ever open. There is no danger of its being overcrowded. There will always boa tendency to rush into the cities for tho excitements which flourish there, and the wise and ardent young men who turn their backs on these false shows and go straightway to nature will come out best in the long run, and enjoy lifo j F The Star of Bethlehem. The brilliant star which suddenly burst forth iu 1572 and is sometimes al leged to have boon seen in the years 1264 and 945 in the region botwoen Ccplieus and Cassiopeia, lias been thought identical with that marvelous star which appeared at the time of our Savior’s nativity, acting as a guide to the wise men of the East. The period of recurring brilliancy of this remarka ble object is, we assume, the identity of the stars of 1572, 1264 and 945, would therefore seem to bo about 314 years, and computing back three periods from 945 we shall arrive nearly at tho epoch of the death of Herod, King of Judea, which occurred, according to the best authorities, one year before tho com mencement of the Christian era and a few months following tho nativity. Ancient chronology is, wo know, not j very exact as to date, and occasionally Inis to bo corrected by means of eclipses which have been computed back to a remote antiquity and comparisons in- ■ stituted with historical events said to j have been connected with such phe nomena. If the star of 1572, which has been associated with the htar of | Bethlehem, should now again appear with all its original splendor, and occa sion the endless speculation which such a mysterious phenomenon must obvi ously invite, ils supposed identity with former objects of similar character will have to be admitted, and the science of astronomy will receive a unique addi tion to its many curious facts in tho form of a variable star of entirely nuw aspect. And some attempts will be made to elucidate tho question as to what possible means operated to ob scure the star during the long lapse of more than three centuries and then suddenly enabled it to shine with such wonderful brilliancy as perhaps to bo visible in the presence of the noon-day sun, as in 1572! But we fear that the realization of a phenomenon so attrac tive in its appearance aud so replete ; with mystery is very doubtful so far a.s the existing evidence enables us toform a rational opinion.— Fros. W. F. Jtem- I ing. A Business Transaction. A man went into a clothing store aud bought a hat for three dollars ar.d a ! half? left his old one, and said he would \ pay for it when he came back. In half an hour be returned, and entering the store met the proprietor, who was ab sent at this first visit. The proprietor was glad to see the man a neighbor of his but, observing his new hat, a shad ow passed over his face, and he said, — “Where did you buy that bat? I eau sell you a hat just like that, and a good deal cheaper than what you paid for it, I know.” This pleased the neighbor, arid his eye twinkling, he Hiked how cheap he would sell him one. “Well, you are a neighbor of mine, and you shall have one for just one dol lar and seventy-five cents.” “Very well,” replied the customer, “I’ll take this one which I have on, which I got here half an hour ago, and returned to pay for.” And he counted out a dollar and sev enty-five cents and departed for his sub urban home, satisfied at his bargain. S' itoga Belles. A Determined Effort on the Part of Designing American Mammas and Daughters to Induce* the Turkish A nbassador to Marry. 7'ho Saratoga correspondent of tho Philadelphia ivess says: It is ati open secret here that Sarotnga society is not indifferent to the presence of Aristarchi Boy, the distinguished representative of tho Ottoman Empire to this country.— More than one match-making mamma has her eyes already upon him, for, when one lias numerous daughters to marry oft - , tiie important question often is, not whether the future husband bo Christian or Mohammedan, Europoan, American or Turk; but whether there are available husbands enough in socie ty to go round, and whether they are rich enough to suppoit a wifo as young ladies brought up in Vanity Fair expect to be supported. But to Aristarchi Boy: There is evidently in society a doubt as to the proper mode of address ing him. One maiden of advancing years, pensive as a gillyflower hanging on a wall, and more romantic than any jolly belle under twenty, this morning accosted tho Minister with: “Now, really, Air. Boy, do you find American beauty superior to that of all other countries?” “Certainly, madam,” courteously re turns the Bey, with that peculiar bow which reminds you of tho Turkish sa laam, and laying his hand upon his heart—that is, upon the spot supposed to be occupied by the masculine heart —although there must be frightful vacu ums sometimes iu those regions. An hour later a pretty and winsome hello looks out slyly from beneath tho wide-brimmed hat, with its drooping plumes, fixing her blue eyes softly upon the dark faco of the Turkish Ambassa dor, and half whispers: “Please toll 1110, Aristarchi Bey —it docs seem too hor ridly dreadful to ask! but do please toll mo—” Here a blush and a sigh, and a downward look of the guilty bluo eyes, “please toll me bow many wives you have?” The Bey looks unusually gravo and solemnly replies, “Seven!” The young lady looks aghast for a mo ment, nearly faints, then remembering it is the fashion in the Turkish country, quietly recovers, smiles her sweetest and murmurs: “Only seven? why, somebody told me you had ten!” (Tab leau.) An anxious mamma then rush es up and begs "Mr. Aristarchi" to come and bo introduced to her daugh ters, who arc “dying to know things.” A wifo or two more will certainly not make much difference to such a very much-married man, and ono who be lieves iu such kind of matrimony might Ws*'s«fut “van in a Christian eommnni daughters at once, debutantes and wall flowers too. Ami while Aristarchi Bey goes off'to bo introduced to the ladies to save them from “dying,” I may as well here remark that this gentleman happens to boa baelmlor, a Greek in stead of a Turk, although coming from Constantinople, and would undoubtedly have Christian scruples against wedding more than ono v ifu at a time, which praiseworthy example is not followed by all Christians here at the Springs. How Cholera Travels. The disease is best known in Europe under the names of cholera, cholera morbus, Asiatic cholera, since the epi demic of IHI7 to 1819, in which the English Army, under the command of tlnTMarquis of Hastings during a war against tho natives, was rendered unfit for lighting and almost annihilated. But ciioleni has never visited Europe till the present century, when in 1880 it appeared in Russia and spread to Poland, where war was prevailing. Since that time, sometimes at longer and sometimes at shorter intervals, cholera has sometimes appeared in Europe. The question why cholera re mained a thousand years in India, be fore it began to migrate is one of great interest, but ono which cannot bo sat isfactorily answered. Tho principal consideration appears to me to be that the event happened at the time when intercommunication in all directions, both by land and water, had become more rapid. The first steamship ap peared in the Indian waters at the be ginning of the second decade of tho present century. By land also inter course was greatly accelerated. 1 lie Russians possibly took cholera from India, Arabia, Afghanistan, or Persia, through couriers and stage-coaches. It soon became clear that cholera, tho specific cholera-germ, was in some way or other propagated along the paths of human intercourse, and it also became evident that unless the germs found a suitable soil within a certain time they did not flourish. Observers soon dis covered that cholera was more prone to appear in certain regions and affect certain localities, while it shunned other districts; and, again, that other regions were only visited at intervals of many years. It is also a fact that Asiatic cholera never yet appeared at a place which had not previously been j in communication with a region where cholera prevailed; and, further, that tho disease from an infected locality never yet pas-ed on to another placo if ; the journey lasted a certain time with ! out interruption. The large inter cour-e between India and Europe,more particularly England, by means of ships which sailed round the Cane of Good Hope, had never succeeded in carrying cholera from India to England.— Dr. Max. von Fettcnkofer, in I'opular Sci ence Monthly for February. The proportion of tho-e who attend public worship to the bulk of the popu lation in the following four European p S ; Berlin 29,000, population ] IHxO.OoO; Hamburg 5,000, population 4OO.000; London 3,G>0,000, population 1 4,000,000; Glasgow 500,000, population 709.000. VOL L NOJI6 Hints to Housekeepers. Never let your children come to the tablo until you arc quite sure that they won't undertake to do all the talking. This you should make a law when you have company. You arc never safe with tho children at tlie tabic. If there is anything you don’t want known it will bo told by them. Tlio boy *who never noticea that tho spoons were plated will shout, as though giving yon valuable information: “O, sco tho golo coming through the spoons!" And that same boy willsay ho wishes it was Sunday, and when your guests ask him why, 110 will reply: “Bocau.se, wo always havo pie Sun day.” You will find out ho knows a groat deal that you never suspected he knew, and you will be at a loss to ascertain how ho over equipped himself with the facts. A boy at the tablo is a well spring of displeasure. If his sister is kissed by any one he is always the per son to witness tho performance, and tells of it before a crowd. Ho is al ways tho one to givo to tho world tho fact that his sister uses powder, wears false teeth, and is 32 years old. If there is a mortgage on the placo, the boy hears you speak of it, and then goes around talking about it us though it wore something to be pointod to with prido and pleasure. Everything you say in the bosom of your family that should not bo repeated tho boy repeats, and ho always lias tho faculty of re peating it at the wrong time and to tho wrong person. If you say the clergyman’s sermons arc too long or too dry, tho boy will take it all in, and say nothing until tho clergyman comes around to make his regular visit, and then he will let it out I'ust after you have entered tho room, f you say the doctor is not fit to euro hams, lie will jump up on the doctor’s knee, when he calls, aud cunningly say: “O, doctor, mamma says you ain’t fit to euro hams!” Tho old adage that boys will bo boys ought to bo changed to boys will be fiends. Ono boy is more bother than half a dozen girls. Tho boy is always in mischief. When ho is at school ho is sLiidying up 901110 kind of deviltry to perpetrate when school is out. Orolso lie is playing trieks on tho teacher. When he is at home he is twisting tho cat’s tail, or disturbing her hearth stone dreams with a bean-shooter. If there is no eat to torment he will tor ment his little sister by making faces doll's clothes. “ Oare of Harness in Summer. Harness is more rapidly injured in summer, says the Country Gentleman, than in winter. It is sometimes soaked with rain, and again subjected to heat and drying, and the perspiration of horses does it no good. If kept well oiled, all these influences will eause lit tle injury. There are many different ap plications used, and different modes are adopted for employing them. A com mon way is first to wash thoroughly with soap and warm water, and then apply neatsfoot oil, as the best oil for the pur pose. But a different course is adopted by others. One team manager informs us that the first tiling to do is always to apply one or two coats of castor oil with enough lamp-black to give proper col or. By thus saturating the leather with oil first the soap and water applied af terward do not penetrate it, and when leather is permitted to absorb water it hardens it ami excludes the oil. By oiling first the dirt is softened so that it is easily washed off, and this obviates much of tho scraping otherwise required, anil the whole operation may be per formed at once. After being oiled, wash it with a sponge and soap-suds, anil when dry, rub over it a mixture of equal parts of oil and tallow, colored with lamp-black, and a small portion of Prussian blue. This is substantially the process recommended, and we shall be glad to hear from those who have tried different methods, as to their compara tive value, and of the benefit of apply ing the oil first, and the fitness of castor oiF as compared with other applica tions. While on the subject of using harness in farm-work in summer, it is well to recommend for any field-work the simplest harness that will answer the purpose, both for the comfort of the horse, and to prevent the needless wear anil tear of leather. Blinders are not needed, belly-band nor croppers. Simple harness for the farm, kept al ways in good order, not liable to break age, will lie a thing of economy in more ways than one, and sometimes prevent costly delays in the most busy days of the vear. A Promising Member of the Bar. When Hon. J. I’., of Maine, was a lawyer fresh sit tho liar he was consid ered to be a very promisitig young man, albeit somewhat wild. But be appar ently became very steady in bis habits after he became intimate with dignified and venerable Judge K. On, , 1 v. when the distinguished Jitd o bail settled into the conviction thatJ. P. bad left off all of his wild wavs, he, on suddenly entering a room where some of the young lawyers were supposed to be studying up law points, came face to face with a game of poker just as the promising J. P. was in the act of raking in the stakes. Ihe sedate Judge stopped aghast and instinctively i throwing up his bands exclaimed in his ponderously solemn tone: “I am profoundly astonished, Mr. P.' 1 What folly!” J. P. promptly responded: “I don't wonder that you are struck. It astonished everybody that sees it that they should “call” me on three queens when I had four aces and a king in my sleeve. It was folly!”