The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

w fourth}. __,___.__â€".â€"..â€"â€"â€" THE TWO VILLAGES.’ Over the river, on the hill, Leitli, a village white and still ; All around it the forest trees Shiver and whisper in the breeze ; Over it sailing shadows go, 0f sdaring hawk and screaming crow, The mountain grasses low and sweet, Grdw in the middle of every street. Over the river, under the hill, Another village lleth still There 1 see in the cloudy night Twinkling stars of household light, Fires that gleam from the singthy door, Mists that curl 011 the river shore ', And In the road no grasses grow, For the wheels that hasten to and fro. In that village, on the hill, Never is sound of smithy or mill, The" houses are thatched with grass and flowers, Never a clock to tell the hourrs : The marble doors are always shut ; You cannot enter in hall or hut ; All the village lie asleep, Never again to sow or reap ; Never in dreams to moan or sigh, Silent, and idle and low they‘lie. In that village under the hill, When the night is starry and still, Many a weary soul in prayer Looks to the other village there, And weeping and sighing, longs to go Upto that home from this below ; Longs to sleep in the forest v. ild, Whither have vanished wife and child, And heareth, praying, this answer fall, “ Patience I that village shall hold ye all I” Tinnitus. .__.__a....._--. A" .-___.. _ -c, “Real Tife- Hugh's Wifeâ€"m so}; film BY MARY A. KEABLES. Hugh Foster, for killing his wife, was executed in the jail-yard today at one o’clock. ‘I read the notice t.wice‘â€"there was nuthing particularly startling about it to the world in general. ‘ Only a man had killed his wife and received the deserts of Izis crime, that was all,’ strangers to the affair would say; while those who were acquaint- a,» .‘.â€" ed with the details of the terrible tra- gedyâ€"the trial, the executionâ€"pro- bably drew a sigh of relief, and said perhaps, "W'ell, hanging was‘too good for him.’ But I-~to me there was more in Hugh Foster’s melancholy death than there was to the world. There was a time when I called him friend atid trusted his protection; whenl lo.Ved him, when I forgot my Maker in my mad worship of one of his creaturesâ€"yet, Hugh never knew it thank God for that l, I remember him a laughing boy, with merry, hazel eyes, checks all agiow with the flush of health and exercise; hair golden brown, lying in curling masses around his well- shaped head, and nestling down ar- ound a white, dimplcd neck, and over blue-veined temples. , 'I remember him in'years laterâ€" eycs more thoughtful, hair and com- plcxion darker, less simplicity, more of- the world’s ways about him. yet pleasing and attractive as ever. I do not wonder that Mattie Greyâ€"â€" gentle, winning little Mattieâ€"loved him so. They say love begets love. It, was but natural that his affection should be required. Idid not blame himâ€"I did not blame her. I only Wept a few bitter tears that while their path that was so flower strewn mine should lead over rugged hills and thomy ways. I buried my vain love for Hugh Foster deep down in my heart; and then, praying God to bless them, I took up'the burden of my weary life again. An orphan dependent upon my ,own exertions for support, I believe my dream made the stronger and more able to cope with the worldâ€"- for, to this day, I believe, i ‘ ’Tis better to have loved and lost, 'I‘han never to have loved at all.’ ~Heaven preserve me from those who, in their whole lives, have never felt the same thrill of love! I set them down as heartless tnisanthropes -â€"untrue to themselves, to nature and to God. ' My position in Hugh’s mother’s family gave me a deeper insight into the young man’s character than I could otherwise have gained. I saw him in every different mood, I read him as he really was. He was a whole-souled man; those he loved with his whole soul, mind and strength; yet his hatred was so strong as life’s bitter and fearful as deathâ€"â€" he who never forgot a kindness, nc- ver forgave an injury. I do not mean he was particularly rcvengeful; but an unkindness, an insult, ranklcd in his bosomâ€"Time never healed the wound. My position in Mr. Foster’s fami- ly was more that of a child than a servant. yet I was but a servant, af- ter all. I realized the factâ€"â€"that there was one deep gulf thgt seper- ated Hugh and I. I always remem- bcrcd the difference in our stations, and never thought of dragging him k down to mine, or raising myself to his. W'hcn his mother died, my life changed. I went out into the world again, to fight again the great battle of life; and yet Hugh’s friendship, unknown to me, was my protection. He it was who gained for inc an eli- gible situation as the teacher of a V ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. AURORA AND ' RICHOND HILL, AD VOCATE' [AND ADVERTISER. “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” village school- ~he who watched overl me and, with a delicacy, secured r for, me many little attentions that added greatly to my happiness. _ I had a very pleasant little room in Mrs. Jones’ boarding establish- ment. Then I thought my gracious landlady furnishedme with the taste- ful furniture, the gay carpet, the dc- licate hangings, the books, and plum), and musicâ€"now, I know it was Hugh‘s generosity. He knew my pride, my sensitiveness~he knew how I would have scorned to accept- those favors from his hands, that I only received with pleasure from those of my social landlady. Poor Hugh after allâ€"he was too good for his fate. lsay so, let the would cen- sure as it may. » It was a cold blustering evening in December. Iliad drawn my easy chair close to the blazing hickory fire and afier raising the wick of the lamp and adjusting the shade, was about to take up a favorite book, when I heard familiar steps in the hall, and a loud. hurried rap, I should have re- cognized at any time or place, sound- ed upon my door. In obedience to my response, the door opened and Hugh entered. There was a happy sparkle in his eves; and as he sat down before the cheerful fire. and brushed the snow from his leggins and boots, while I did the same kind office for his cap and shawl, he said, laughingly: ‘ Don’t be frightened, Laurieâ€"no- tive and mysterious. Hugh took many exceptions to his wife’s con- duct, forgetful that his exceeding anxiety and disquietude only made the little beauty more tricky and de- ceitful. She laughineg said to me one day that ‘ she did like to tease Hugh‘ so well.’â€"-â€"-Poor child, if she could only have known all! ' ‘I thought] knew her,’ said Hugh to me one day, in" a bitter tone. I thought her all artlessness, butâ€"3 I interrupted him. ‘ She is all innocence,’ I replied. ‘She‘ knOWS you are distrustful of her, and mischievously likes to tor- ment you-’ ‘Noâ€"nol I wish it was that. Lau- rie, you need not try to deceive me. I am not to be duped. See here.’ He took a letter from his pocket, TRICIIIWOND HILL, FRIDAY, AUGUST so. 1861. he’s come, they’re talkingr in the ar- aware of a thin pale face and two bor, yorder. I heard her tell him she would love him as long as she lived. 0 Laurie, Laurie l’ He drew me into the shade, as two figures emerged from the arbor, and came past us so close that “Mat- tie’s dress touched mine. The man’s arm was around her waist, and she was looking up into his face, trust- fuliy, confidently. ‘ Stay all night, Walter,’ she said, as they parted at the gate. ‘ Not to-night, I have another en- gagement to meet.’ " Some fair Indy, perhaps I’ ‘Perhaps,’ said the tall man, stoop- ing to kiss the lips of the fair little woman at his side. ‘ Now, good-night.’ ‘ Good-night Walter, the time will gave it to me, and leaned-his head seem very long till I see you again.’ upon the table, so I could not see his face. The envelope was a large, white one, 'it was crumpled sadly, but I could see that the superscrip- tiou was a bold, business hand, and read, ‘Mrs. Mattie Foster.’ ‘ What do you Wish me to do with this, Hugh ’l’ I asked. ‘ Read it,’ he said, almost sharply. I unfolded the sheet of note-paper the envelope contained, and read these words: Pâ€"â€"â€"-â€". “ MY DEAR MA'rrin: I received yours yesterday, and hasten to reply to it. Do not be in any fear that I shall fail bOdY’S dead» 01' Sle' 0" married) that to be in Sanston, by the time speci- I'm out this horrid night. I just wanted to see you, little sis. The wind is sharp, I tell youâ€"right from the northwest, and I faced it all the way.’ ' will the way, full two squares, Hugh?’ He laughed merrily. _ ‘ Yes, all of a mile. Miss Laurie. I didn’t come from home, butâ€"’ ‘I know,’ I replied. ‘I believe its a mile over to Squire Grey’s.” The crimson flushed up into his handsome face; and, as I sat down on the opposite Side of the little, round, light-stand, he took both of my hands in his and said, perhaps a little excitedly: V _ . ‘I believe I’m the happiest man in all cleation, little sis. I've come to tel. you so. In two weeks, Mattie and 'I are going to be married. Don’t you congratulate me 'I’ . ‘ Answer me two questions first, Hugh l’ ‘ What are they ’l’ ‘ First, are you sure that you love Mattie Grey with your whole heart, Hugh l’ _ ‘I idolizc herâ€"~I worship her. God knows that she is dearer to me than my own soul, Laurie.’ ' ‘ Are you quite positive that she loves you 1’ , I would stake the happiness offimy life upon it. She-is abit coquettish, like all young girls, yet I trust her word. I trust the instinct of my heart. Yes; Iknowâ€"â€"I am sure she loves me.’ ‘Thcn God bless, you both, dear Hugh,’ I said warmly, ‘you are wor- thv of her, and I trust she is of you â€"â€"‘be a good husband to her: she is a fragile little thing; a erWn= a harsh word, or neglect, would break her heart. Guard her as you'would a jewel, Hugh Foster, and may God bless you both 1’ ’ ~ ‘ Thank you, Sister Susie, but don’t talk of frowns and neglect-â€" don’t turn croaker, and make your- self disagreeable, and don’t lecture meâ€"l hate lectures,'and you know it, ‘Yes, I know it,’ Ireplied, me- chanically. We dil not either of us say much more. It may be that mo- ment a boding of evil settled down on his Spirit, as it did on mine, I can- not tell. Hugh and Mattie were married. Every one prophesied happiness for them, and I among the rest; thev seemed so well suited to each other â€"he so noble, so handsome, so dig- nifiedâ€"-slic so loving, winning and gentle. After their marriage I met them very oftenâ€"sometimes I took tea with them, and they spent the evening with me; and Mattie often insisted upon my accompanying them in their rides and walks: and I grew to love the pretty childnwife myself, and did not wonder at the idolatrous worship he bestowed upon her. There was one trait, however, in lllattic’s composition that greatly dc- ceived her appearance. Mattie Was as secretive as Hugh was frank and open. Thistroublcd him. He wish? ed to have hercharacter, her thoughts so transparent, he-could see through them at a glance; and when she dis- covered her husband's feelings on the subject, she only grow more scorc- ficd. Be assured I will not break the engagement. I have quite a curiosny to see your husband. You know you once told me you never would love any man better than me, and I have a desire to see the fortu- nate gentleman. I want you to meet me down by the turn in «the lane, or the forest-road. I will meet you there for I’ve something to say to you I don‘t want every car to hear. I will be there Wednesday evening, about nine o’clock. ‘ Willi the anticipation of soon folding you in my arms, I am, as heretofore, your most devoted, “ WALTER.” Ifelt the blood recede from my ’face, leaving it white as that of one dead, as the terrible thought stamped itself upon my mind, that Mattie was untrue to the man whose'love I would have prized above gems or rubies.. . He looked up with a bitter smile. ‘What do you think of it l’ he said. ‘ How did you come by this P’ I asked hoarsely. l ‘ Well, I’ll tell ,you all about it, Laurie; and then judge for yourself. To-day,-Mattie went to the post- ofiiceâ€"a very unusual thing for her to do; and when she went to her room, I saw that she carried a letter in her hand. ‘ Of course, I asked her who it was frOm, but she blushed, and stammered about it; and whenl demanded my right to see it, she rc- fused straight up and downâ€"so I took it away from her, just as I should do, and when I asked an exâ€" planation, all the satisfaction I could obtain was this â€"-that the writer of that letter was her fricndâ€"â€"she thought a grcat deal of him, and al- ways had, ever since she had known him. Ithought, very probably, she liked him better than she did her hus- band. I was jealous and exacting, she was taunting and even tempered. ‘ And you, Hugh ?’ ‘I'l why,I told her that if she met the writer of that letter, she would repent it, that was all,’ cx- claimed the excited man, ‘ and so she will!’ ‘ Hugh 1’ He looked upâ€"the expression of his face terrified me. ‘ Hugh !’ ‘ VVellâ€"did I frighten you I No- .ver mind. I think I’ll go home now.’ As he went out a strange terror came over me. I looked out of the window the moon was shining dimly through the clouds and I could see a vague figure hastening in the direc- tion of Hugh's residence. I do not know what power impelled me to throw a shawl over my head, and follow the figure slowly; but I did so. Hugh wentslowly up the steps, and finding the front door locked, went round by the garden gate, and at that gatel paused a moment after- ward thcn opened itâ€"â€"scarccly know- ing What I did anti followed still. Hugh stood inside the gate. IIc ‘ldid not seem surprised at seeing me, ‘ but, merciful Heavens! how I shrank jin terror from the burning light in i his eyes. ‘ Lanric,’ he gaspedâ€"his breath coming quick and hard. ‘ Laurie, l l .hcr bright young careless face, her ‘tong vside stair, Hugh keeping near her The sound of the man’s footsteps died away in the distance. Hugh stepped forward, and con- fronted his wife. ‘ What does this mean, Mtittie ?’ he asked, hoarsely. ‘ Why are you walking in the garden to-night with a strangeâ€"man, and what is he to you '1’ She drew herself up proudly. ‘ Jealous 1’ she said, her pretty lip curling. ‘ ‘And what ifI am jealous l’ he replied, ‘it is my right to he. Wo- man, I gave you my whole heart. I loved you madly, wildlyâ€"beware lost love turn to hate.’ She laughed lightly, sarcastically. ‘Tcll me one thing,’ he gasped hoarse with passion. that man 9’ ‘ Of course I do.’ ‘ And you tell me so to my face, infamous woman !’ cried Hugh Fos- ter, seizing his wife's light form in his arms. ' ‘ u . ' .' e . I Iheie was a faint shiiek, a gut; c Ye wad ken that lass,81r p ling cry. behind a cloud, there were blood stains on the garden gateâ€"on the long grassâ€"on his hands. and Mattie fell to the ground with this cry upon her lips: dark eyes looking keenly, but help- lcssly on him. The eyes were plainly Mary anf’s.though he could recognise no other feature. , She wept silently, gazing steadily at him, ‘Are you Mary Duffl’ ‘lt’s a’ that’s 0’ me, Hugh.’ She then tried to speak to him, something plainly of great emergency, but she couldn’t; and seeing that she was Very ill, and was making herself worse, he put half-a-crown into her feverish hand, and said he would call again in the morning. He could get no information about her from the neighboursâ€"they were surly- or asleep. When he re- turned next morning, the littlc girl met him at the stairhead, and said, ‘She’s dead.’ He went in, and found it was true; there she lay, the fire out, her face placid, and the likeness to her maiden self restored. Hugh thought he would have knoun her now, even Willi those bright black eyes closed as they were in wlernum. Seeking out a neighbour, he said he'vrould like to bury Mary Doll, and arranged for the funeral with an undertaker in the close. Lit- tle seemed to be known of the pour outcast, exoept that she was a ‘licht,’ or, as Solomon would have said, a ‘strange woman.’ ‘Did she drink?’ ‘ Whiles.’ On the day of the funeral, one or two rCSidents in the close accompanied him to the Cannongate Churchyard. He ob- lserved a decent-looking old woman watching them, and following at a K 3 . DO you l0“ distance, though the day was wet and bitter. After the grave was filled, and he had taken offhis hat, as the men finished their busineSs by putting on and slapping the sod, he saw this old woman remaining. She came up, and curtseyintr said, {'3’ ' Yes; The moon cameout from I knew her when She was young: The woman then burst into tears, and told Hugh that she ‘kcepit a bit shop at the close mouth, and Mary dealt wi’ me, and aye paid reg’lar, andl was feared she was ‘0 Hugh you’ve killed me {or dead, for she had been a month loving my brother.’ I shrink from describing what fol- lowed. that white, dead face in the moon- light--the murderer andthe incensed crowd that gathered aroundâ€"the brotitcrâ€"-the gray-hailed father~â€" the nearly crazed mother, bending in ~ agony over their idol ! I have toldthe story-â€"â€"-the play is outâ€"«the curtain has fallenâ€"the foot lights are extingushed. God be more merciful in judging that man in con- ’ ishcdg demning him, is my prayer. 0 husbands and wives, deal hon- estly and truly with each other. Avoid not only evil but the appear- ance of evil, and ' ~" Better trust and be deceived, And weep this trust, and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart which, if believed, Had blessed one’s life with true believing.” HER LAST HALF CROWN. Hugh Miller, the geologist, jour- nalist, and man of genius,was sitting in his newspaper office late one dreary winter night. The clerks had all left, and he was preparing to go, when a quick rap came to the door. He said ‘Come in,’ and: looking towards the entrance, saw a little ragged child all wet with sleet. ‘Are ye Hugh Millerl’~â€" ‘Yes.’ ‘Mary Duff wants ye.’-â€"- ‘What does she want 5’ ‘She’s dcein’.’ Some misty recollection of the name made him at once set out. and with his wellâ€"known plaid and stick, he was soon striding af- ter the child, who trotted through the now deserted High Street, itito the Cannongate. By the time he got to the Old Playhouse Close, Hugh had revived his memory of Mary Duff; a lively girl who had been ,bred up beside him at Crom- arty. The last time he had seen her was at a brother mason’s marriage, where Mary was ‘hest maid,’ and he ‘best man.’ He seemed still to see tidy short-gown, and her dark eyes, and to hear her bantering merry tie. Down the close went the ragged little woman, and up an out- with difficulty. In the passage she held out her hand and touched him ; taking it in his great palm, he felt that she wanted a thumb. Finding her way like a cat through the dark- ness, she opened a door and saying, ‘ That’s her !’ vanished. By the light of a dying fire he saw, lying in the corner .of the large empty room, something like a woman's clothes; and on drawing nearer became awm’ me half-a-crcwn ;’ and then With a look and a voice of awe, she Mall GOd hide from my face told him how, on the night he was sent for, and immediately after he had left, she had been awakened by some one in her room; and by the bright fireâ€"â€"for she Was a bein well-to-do-bodyâ€"-she had seen the wasted dying creature, who came forward and said, ‘Wasn’t it half-a- crown '2’ ‘Yes.’ ‘There it is,’ and putting it under the bolster. van- Alas for Mary Duff! her career had been asad one since the day when she stood side by side with Hugh, at the wedding of their friends. Her father died not long after, and her mother supplanted her in the affections ofthe man to whom she had given her heart. The shock was overwhelming, and made home intolerable. Mary fled from it blighted and embittered, and after a life of shame and sorrow, crept into the corner of her wretch- ed garret, to die deserted and alone; giving evidence, in her latest act, that honesty had survived amid the wreck of nearly every other Virtue. ‘My‘ thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For astheheavcns are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.’â€"â€" Home SubSecioce. By John Brown, .M.D.. F.1£.S.E. THE TRUE GENTLEMAN.â€"-Tlle following sketch is called the portrait of a true gentleman. It was found in an old manor house in Glouces- shlrc, written and framed, and hung over the mantlcpicce of a tapestried sitting-room :â€"â€"â€"‘ The true gentle- man is God’s servzinl, the world’s master, and his own man ; virtue is his business, study his recreation, contentment his rest, and h. piness his reward; God is his Fat ter, Je- sus Christ his Savi0ur, the saints his brethren, and all that need him his friends; devotion is his chaplain, chastity his Chamberlain, Sobriety his butler, temperance his cook, hos- pitality his housekeeper, Providence his steward, charity his treasurer, piety his mistress of the house, and discretion his porter, to let in or out, as most fit. This is his whole family made up of virtues, and he is the true master of the house. He is necessitated to take the world on this way to heaven; but he walks through it as fast as he can, and all his business by the way is to make himself and others happy. Take him in two wordsu-a Man and a Christian.’ WA v TERMS: $1 50 In Advance. “711010 N01 Tris BASHIKOUAY ANT, According to M. du Cliaillu,one of the most formidable animals in the world is an not which he found in Central Africa. He thus de- scribes it :-â€" It is the dread ofall'living animals, from the leopard to the smallest in- sect. I do not think that they build a nest or home of any kind. At any rate they carry nothing away, but cat all‘their prey on the spot. Itis their habit to march through the forests in a long regular line~â€"a line abOut two inches broad and of- ten several milcs iii length. All along this line are larger ants, who act as officers, stand outside the ranks and keep this singular army in order. If they come to a place where there are no trees to shelter them from the sun, whose heat they cannot bear, they immediately build underground tunnels, through which the whole armypisses in columns to the‘forcst beyond. These tun- nels are four or five feet under- ground, and are used onlv in the heat of the day or during a storm. When they grow hungry the long file spreads itself through the forest in a front line, and attacks and devours all it overtakes with a fury which is quite irresistible. The elephant and gorilla fly before this attack. The black men run for their llves. Every animal that lives in their line of march is chased. They seem to understand and "act upon the tactics of Napoleon, and concen- trate with great speed their heaviâ€" est forces on the point of attack.â€"-- In an incredibly short space of time the mouse, or dog, or leOpard, or deer overwhelmed. killed and eaten, and the bare skeleton only remains. - They seem to travel night and day. ‘Many a time have I been awakened out of a sleep and ob- liged to rush'from the hut and into the water to save my life, and after all suffered intolerable agony from the bites of the advance guard, who lhad got into my clothes. When they enter a house they clear it of all living things. Cockroaches are devoured in an instant. Rats and mice spring around the room in vain. An overwhelming force of ants kills a rat in less than a minute, in spite of the most frantic struggles, and in less than another minute its bones are stripped. Every living thing in the house is devoured.â€" They will not touch vegetable mat- ter. Thus they are in reality very- J useful (as well as dangerous) to the lnegroes, who have their huts lcleared of all the abounding ver- min, such as immense cockroaches and ccntipcdcs, at least several times la year. ' When on their march the insect world flies before them, and I have Ioften had the approach of a bashi- ikouay army heralded to me by this means. Wherever they go they Imake a clean sweep, even ascend- ing to the tops of the highest trees in pursuit of their prey. Their manner of attack is an impetuous leap. Instantly the strong pincers are fastened, and they only let go when the piece gives way. At such times this little animal seems animatpd by a kind of fury, which causes it to disregard cn ircly its own safety, and to seek only the lconqucst of its prey. The bite is lvcry painful. The negroes relate that criminals were in former times exposed in th: path of the bashikouay ants, as the most cruel manner of putting them to death. Two very remark- able practiccs of theirs remain to be related. When on their line of march they require to cross a nar- row stream, they throw themselves across and form a tunnel-â€"a livmg tunnelâ€"~connccting two trees or high bushes on opposite sides of the little stream, whenever they can ,find such to facilitate the operation. This is done with' great speed, and is effected by a great number of ants, each of which clings with its fore claws to its next neighbor’s body or bind claws. Thus they form a high, safe, tubular bridge, through which the whole vast regi- ment marches in regular order.â€" Ifdisturbed, or if the arch is broken by the violence of some animal,they instantly attack the offender with the greatest animosity. * it it Their numbers are so great that one does not like to enter into calcula- tions‘; but I have seen one continu- ous line passing at good speed a particular place for twelve hours. IS I A Double .b‘ish.~â€"-â€"If a man cannot skate i he thl probably flounder. ‘ l VVHY COFFEE BEATEN IN A Mon-2 TAR is BETTER rrainy COFFEE Gnouno' IN A MiLL.â€"â€"â€"It is not” generally known that coffee which has been beaten, IS better than that which has been ground. Such,however,isthe ‘ fact grand in his brief article upon this subject, Savarian gives what he considers'the reasons for the di- ference. As he remarks, a mere decoction of green coffee is a most insipid drink, but carbonization de‘s veIOpcs the aroma, and an oihwhich is the peculiarity of the coffee we drink. He agrees with other wri-a‘ 'I l ters, that the Turks excel in this.-â€"-â€" They employ no mills, but beat the berry with wooden pestlcs in mor- tars. When long used, the pestlcs become precious and bring great prices. He determined by actual experiment which of the two meth- ods was the best. He burned care- fully a pound of good Mocha, and separated it into two equal portions. The one was passed through the‘ millâ€"â€"â€"the other beaten after the Turkish fashion in a mortar. He made coffee of each, and pouring ‘ on an equal weight of boiling wa- ter, he treated them both precisely alike. He tasted the coffee himself, and caused other competent judges to do so. The unanimous opinion was, that coffee beaten iii a mortar was far better than that ground in a mill.’ A NEW ENEMY IN THE Coors.“ Within a few days past, in the towns of Stratford, Washington, Pleasant Valley, Poughlieepsie, and doubtless elsewhere iii this county, outfields have been visited by insects hereto- fore unknown to our farmers. They cluster like baes, on the stem that joins the grain and head of the stalk, and near the base ofthe grain. Their number on each grain is estimated at perhaps thirty, fifty, or more, giving thousands to each head. They evi- dently intercept and feed on the sap flowing through the stem. The ef- fect produced appears to be that the stem is dried, is easily broken off, and the grain falls to the ground. Probably, in process of harvesting, much, if not all, of the crop so visiâ€" ted will be shaken from the stalk and lost. Portions of some fields only are attacked. Spots where the growth is smallest seem to be selec- ‘ ted by these new marauders for their work. Specimens of these insects, in Various stages of development, have been shown us, and may be ge- nerally described as a brown fly, about oneâ€"fourth the size of the com- mon house fly.â€"â€"Poughlccepsic Tele- crap/t. C) SIMPLE CURE FOR Canolaâ€"We find in the Journal of Health the fol- lowing simple remedy for this dan.‘ gorous disease. Those who have passed nights of agony by the bed- side of loved children will treasure it up as a valuable information :â€"â€"- lfa child is taken with the croup, apply cold waterâ€"ice water, if pos- sibleâ€"suddcnly and freely to the neck and chest with a sponge. The breathing will instantly be relieved. ' Soon as possible let the sufferer drink as much as it can, then wipe it dry, cover it up warm, and soon a quiet sleep will relieve the parent’s anxiety, and lead the heart in thankfulness to the Power which has given to the pure gushing foun- tain such medical qualities. Gownsâ€"Three indispensables of genius are understanding, feeling,- and perseverance, and three things that enrich genius are contentment of mind, the cherishing of good thoughts, and exercising the memory. A Pretty Home Truth.â€"â€"-Man may be the head of the family; but, far better than that, womitn is the heart of it. Truth is hevrr the less so for not being attended to; and it is the nature of actions, not 'the number of actors, by which we ought to regulate our behavior. Energy.â€"â€"-Before exertion, there must be energy; and before you can be stirred to energy, it is necessary for you “to make the strong divinity of soul” that: overcomes all the temptations to present ease and indulgence. \Voman by a Sick Man’s Couchâ€"It has often been truly remarked that in sick- ness there is no hand like a woman’s hand no heart like a woman’s heartâ€"no eyes so untiriugâ€"no hope so fervent. \W’oman by a sick man’s couch is divinity im- personated. In Spite of His 'I‘eeth.-King John once demanded of a certain Jew 10,000 marks, on refusal of which he ordered one of the Isrealite’s teeth to be drawn every day until he should consent. The Jew lost seven, and then paid the required sum. Hence the phrase, “ In spite of his teeth.” A Ghost Sold.-The Rev. Dr. Wolf tells a story of a certain M. Preiswcg, of Geneva, a good and excellent Christian, to whom a ghost, appeared as he was going to bed, anti said, “I am the ghost: of a person who was hanged here six weeks ago.” “That is no business of mine,” replied Preisweg, “so good night!” Cato and Kissingâ€"Among the ancient Roman matrons and virgins the use of wine was unknown, and the women was taxed with immodesty whose breath smelt of the grape. Plato said that Cato was of Opinion that kissing first began between kinsmett and kinswomen, that: they might. know whether their wives, daughters, and nieces tasted wine. Cato was an old coon! for kissing is better than wine any day.