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 ^^ WW^'^^^^ mTr"'7?^'Mfmi\fi^ ,}^^ i^ 4 t !:,, w It W- â- â- â- i *h1- i*1 Ml â- i if jmI ' i m ffl^yii fltnUlilrfV 1^1 tt :I m% m â- ;. I mm.i Jn ' ll Jillw GRANNTS BAIRN. A Pathetic Stoiy of a Strike. It was a desolate scene as I wandered among the pitfalls and abandoned wmkings of the Beaver Meadow Coai Mines, -hk a hw- low of on old and uselew steiypping Jay tons «f slaty waste, among which_||eaiMd bits ol coal here and there. T3le moiiBral had long _gone its way to the market and asify Ae re- fose remained; bat even these bits ti» poor about the district were forbidden by the owners to glean. The Winter had been a severe one and the coal strike for a few pence more a day had augmented the sufferings of the poor, not only in and about the great city, but extend- ingout to the coal regions as well. The place looked deserted and dreary enough, but I walked on, musing over the fate wWch doomed the generality of men to toil and poverty, when suddenly the figure of a child arose from one of the heaps and stood before me, trembling in every limb and a piteous, scared expression upon his wan, pinched little face. "Don't be alarmed," I said, touched by his evident fear; "I wouldn't harm you." "Ben't you come to take me for pickin' up the coal?" he inquired, falteringly; "didn't the maistera send ye?" At his feet I now spied a pail half full of the precious stuflF. •" We hain't got no fire," he said, graspinc the pail with his little blue, half-frozen Angers, " and poor granny has been shiver in' and moahin' and huggin' the baby awful "Close, sir. She thinks that keeps it warm, you know." A wan smile flitted over his face as he said it, but something in his tone brought a lump to my throat. "And what is your name?" I next in- vquired. " Jemmy, sir. " ' ' And your father â€" where is he " " I dunno," answered the boy. " Dead " I queried. " Mebbe, I dunno." " And you mother?" His little lip quivered. "Mother went to work afore daylight,' sir. She goes out a-washin' and scrubbin' when slie can git it. W«'ll have some supper when she gits home â€" granny and me will, and I'll liave a fire, 'cause you know mother- '11 be awful cold and tired." " Well," I said, struggling with my emo- tion, " let us* fill the pail and I will carry it." " It was soon done and before long we stood upon the threshold of a miserable shanty vhich the boy called "home." He hesitated a moment before opening the ^oor. "You ben't one of the maisters now, be ye?" he asked solemnly. "God forbid," I answered as seriously. " And ye ain't come to turn us out o' the cabin " " Never fear," I smiled " I come as a iriend, not as an enemy. " For ans\^-er he opened the door. Home A carpetless floor, a bed, a chair or two, a fireless stove. Cowering close to the latter sat an old woman, crooning to a baby which she held in her arms, swathed in rags. "Be still, my bairn," she murmured, startled by the opening of the door; "be still â€" the maisters shall nae touch ve, never fear." Oh those hollow cheeks, those trembling hands, those struggling locks, that bent, shivering form. She gazed at me curiously at first with a vacant, dazed stare then a shudder shook her frame. "Be ye one o' the maisters?" she inquired in a husky voice. "No," I replied smiling; "no." "I maun a-knowed it," she said witha nod: "the deil ne'er comes a-smilin,' and â€" and â€" " here her voice fell to a whisper â€" "the maisters are all sold to the de'il â€" did ye know that?" I made no answer, and she continued her crooning to the babe in her arms. "Hush, my bairn," she said to the motion- less ligui"e-, "hush, thy father's a coomin'â€" a coom'in' home the day. Has't seen him?" she cried, suddenly turning tome; "has't seen my Sandy? My puir boy Sandy â€" did he send ye?" The boy looked at me with a wistful, touciiing expression. "Sandy's my father," he exclaimed, "who went away long ago. " At this juncture the door opened and a woman about thirty years of age entered, with every appearance of weariness and heart-sickness in her form and face. For the first time the boy's eyes lightened. "Mother," he said, "the gentleman fetched home a whole pailful of coal â€" see " and the little fellow spread his hands over the newly kindled fire with a look of pride and satisfaction. "Hush I" whispered graimy; "the bairn sleeps. Wake her not up to misery again, it were a blessin' when hunger cooms and ;61d, for us all to sleep." "The child must be cold," I said to the yoivncer woman. "It's clothing seems poor ar-l thin." She smiled strangely and placed her finger «ptn her lip. "Taint no real baby," whispered the 1x)y; "It's only a stick o' wood the granny calls the bairn." I looked at the boy's mother inquiringly. "Yes," said she, "the bairn died the morning poor Sandy was taken away. Granny went crazed, as you see, which was a mercy, sir, seein' as how she loved the baini and Sandy better than life." The old woman had returned to her chair, and cheered bj- the warmth, was sinking in- to a gentle doze. ' 'Sandy " she murmured, ' 'Sandy's coom- in' hame the day. The bairn will nae mair •cry from hunger, for the father is coomin' hame." "Of what dark day do you spoak " I inquired, "and who took your husband away " The boy shuddered and crept close to his -mother's side. She hesitated. "Here, Jemmy," I hastened tosay, "take this money and go to the nearest shop. Your mother will tell you what to buy." He was gone, but nevertheless, I was haunted by those solemn, pleading, wistful eyes â€" eyes in which the glad light ol happy childhood had never lurked eyes which looked out upon life shadowed by the wing of poverty and hopelecs misery. " You may remember, sir," began his mother, "the great strike of the miners in this region, in the year 188 â€" Sandy, my husband, was agin it, sir, from the first. WeQ. 8ir,"8hecontuiaed, "the men had been Idle for TorndSbm, hat still th^ clung' to men the hope that by holdin' out their future would be bettered. It was bitter cold and Sandy had gone out to get the trust of a pail of coaL He was very white sir, when he came back and there was that m his eyes which made me shudder." ,: " 'Why, Sandy,' I cried, 'my man.'iHiy do you look so 7* «- "For ansirer he painted to the empty naiL ♦* They would gie menane.'sayshe, atow- like and hnsky ' they will nae trust us m»' " 'They mean to turn us onij of the house to-morrow,' he answered, bitterly. 'New men, my lass, are coomin' to take our places at lower wages the day. ' " 'But the bairn, our sick bairn?' I cried. 'She has been cryin' for a sup of broth since early momin' She is dyin' Sandy â€" dyin' for the lack of nourishment. "Sandy groaned. He was a big, brawny man, sir, wUlin' to work, and he well-nigh worshiped the little one which lay there moanin' and cryin' for the broth which he couldn't give her. " 'Ye. maun get a chicken, Sandy,' cried granny 'try it, mon. The darlin' is starvin' can ye no see ' " 'A chicken?' cried Sandy, with a bitter laugh. 'Ye maun as well ask me for the keys of heaven, granny. They would nae gie me the trust of a pail of coal the morn. A chicken They would call me mad an' I should ask for it â€" mad ' "Well, sir," continued the woman after a painful pause, "the next day was cold and raw. A fine, drizzling rain set in, which froze as it fell. The little one was worse. She lay quite still now and moaned no more. " 'They will not turn us out in this storm, Sandy, with a sick bairn,' I said 'they can never be so cruel as that. ' " 'The new men must have homes,' he an- swered, despairing like. "Just then came a knock at the door. Granny looked out the window, then turned with white face and set lips and grasped Sandy by the arm. " 'Be anion,' she said, in a low, deep voice "be a mon, Sandy, and dinna let them turn us out this awfu' day. Tiiink o' your dyin' bairn and be a mon. ' "Sandy shook in every limb, but answered not a word. There was a louder rap now at the door. Granny wrung her hands in agony, for just then from the bed came a low moan. ' " 'Broth ' cried the bairn " 'granny broth!' S J" " 'Open the door Sandy,' said granny " 'open the door ' and taking the little one in her arms, she stood like a figure turned to stone in the middle of the floor. "Jemmy, hardly more t}ian a baby, clung weeping to my skirts, as I knelt in prayer by the fireless stove, asking aid from One greater and richer than the owners of the coal mines. "There was silence for a moment when the door wao opaned, then one of the laughed. " 'Come,' hesaiil, " 'make ready to be out of this by noon You had your orders yester- day, Sandy, and we mean to enforce 'em' " 'But the bairn is near todying,' answer ed Sandy, choking like, '.and sure ye will not turn us out in the storm ' "'Well if the brat be near dying,' said an officer, brutally, ' she may as well die outside as in. ' " 'Then,' continued the woman, shielding her eyes with one hand, 'I heard a growl like as from a wild beast, then a cry as of mortal agony, and then â€" ' Her voice broke and she half ai-ose ifrom her chair and looked with a fixed stony gaze straight before her. "And then, Iqueried, after a paintulpause. "And then, she resumed, with white lips, "the man who had uttered that cruel speech flung up his aims, swayed to and fro and fell at Sandy's feet without life or motion. Then the rest sprang upon Sandy, who stood there dazed and horror-stricken, white as the dead man at his feet. '"I did nae mean to kill him,' he said, solemnly, with uplifted hand ' God above knows I did nae mean to kill him. But the bairn is the light o' my eyes, and if any of ye be faihers, ye maun know how â€" how " He could say no more, sir, for the tears which choked him tears wrung from liis great noble heart â€" a heart as tender as a woman's. " 'Come,' said the dead man's friends, sav agely, ' come. We don't want any more of your whining. You'll get a halter for this day's work, never fear.' " ' A halter " exclaimed granny, dazed like â€" 'a halter for my Sandy " " Then she looked at the ^ead man's face and laughed, such a horrid laugh, sir, that it curdled the blood in our veins. " The ohild no longer moaned, but lay quiet within her arms. Sandy shook off the hands which held him and â-  stooped to kiss the bairn. " ' She's dead,' he said quietly ' my Jenny, our pretty bairn is dead and, with- out another word turned and went out of the door, never to enter it again." " Surely," I stammered, " he was not, notâ€"" I could not bring myself to utter the hor- rible word. " No, sir," said she, quietly but he was sent to prison for life." " And you and the boy and granny," I in- quired â€" "what did you do?" "The neighbors helped us to move here," she said, wearily, "and helped to bury the child. Granny's reason fled that dreadful day and, as you see, she still nurses the bairn and ever in her ear rings that mournful cry, ' Broth granny, broth I'" The dooropened suddenly at this juncture and in sprang Jemmy, with a look upon his face that brought us both to our feet. "He's come " he gasped "he's come Granny was nae mad when she said he'd come the day." "Who?" cried his mother, a wild hope gleaming in her eye. "Quick, Jemmy, tell me. Who has come " "My boy, Sandy," crooned granny, aroused by the confusion "it's my Sandy come back with the broth for the bairn." "Ay, mither;" cried a rou^, manly voice at the door, "God be thanked, 'tis thy boy Sandy come back indeed " The wife stood like one turned to stone. "Escaped " she gasped, with a shudder, as berhosband held out his arms ' 'escaped?" "Nae, my lass," he cried "never fear, tB not escaped I am, bnt pardoned, Jenny â€" pardoned." That meeting was too sacred for a stran- gers's eye to witness, and so I silently stole away and left them the stnmg man shaken with emotion, wife and diild sobbing npon his l»wt and eranny, with her "haim" t^derly cbupedTin her arms, smilUw unoa tli9 group inplacid, svneetiotmtent. ^^ â- i-"v*if mSIAir BALL GAM^S. The Ckeetaws Were the ChMi»lo«8-A HnTer ««e by Sloax Sqvaws. The greater bail players iamong the North ^nieriwa Indiana were the Choctaws. The rtde of the game as regarded, dress w«# very strict. Noplayer waa allowed to *•«» moccasins. There was no such thing •« "spiking" another player unless e foiu waa done by some fellow with extraordinary* long and strong toe nails. The only clotm ing was the breech cloth arqund the loins and a bead belt. A taU of White horse hair or quiUs projected behind Uke a steer- ing apparatus. A collar or mane of horse hair was worn around the neck. The game embraced the skilful features of lawn tennis and the brute force of footbalL Catlin says that after seeing two or three games of Indian ball he made it a rule never to miss one. He would ride thirty miles any day for the Sport. The game was usually called about 9 o'clock in the morning, and from that time till sundown the contest was a series of exciting and ludiprous scenes without any intermission. It was nothing unusual for from 600 to 1,000 Choctaw youths to engage in a game. Two leaders were se lected, and they chose alternately until there were from 300 to 500 on each side. Several old men of the tribe acted as judges. They measured off the groimd and set up the goals. For each goal two posts about 25 feet high were FIRMLY PL.4NTED IN THE GROCND six feet apart. Across the tops of the up- right posts was fastened a horizontal pole. Tliese goals were fifty rods apart. Midway between them was a small stake. From this point the ball, at a given signal, was tossed in the air by one of the ju^es. And then the game began. There were some curious preliminaries. When the judges had set the goals they drew a line from one goal to the other. To this line the old men, the boys, and the women of the tribe came and bet across it. whatever they wanted to stake on the result. Any- thing which had value was included in' the betting. Knives, dresses, blankets, dogs, horses, and a hundred other possessions were delivered across the line to be wag- ered on one side or the other. The stake- holders receive the stakes collected at a little distance from the ball ground, and kept guard over them until the end. The laying out of the ground and the bet- ting was all arranged the afternoon before the game. When night came on the ground was lighted by torches and the ball-play dance was .given. The players crowded g,round their respective goals, held up their sticks and rattled them together. The women formed in two rows between the goals, according to the side they were betting on, and danced wliile they sang to the Gr.eat Spirit in favor of their re- spective interests. At a little distance on one side the four judges, who were to have the tossing of the ball, and who were to de- cide the result, sat and SMOKED AND PRAYED to the Great Spirit that they might be able to judge impartially and escape being mob bed by the losers. This dance was given at intervals of half an hour all night. Nobody thought of going to bed. The game opened at 9 o'clock in the pre- sence of the whole tribe. A gun was fired. The ball was tossed up. In an instant the hundreds of players were in motion. Each player had two sticks with hooped ends. Thongs were stretched across the hoops so that the ball could not slip through. The game was to catch the ball between the net- ted ends of the two sticks and throw it to- ward the goal.. When the ball passed through the space between the high posts and below the cross pole the side to which that goal belonged scored a point. There were no such things as fouls in the Choctaw ball game. Players jumped over each other's heads. They crawled between each other's legs. They tripped and kicked and scuffed. For many minutes the confused mass would be pushing and crowding toward a common point, and not a glimpse of the ball could be had. Then the l^all would be slipped outside of the crowd, which would keep on struggling and crowding without discovering that the ball was gone. Clouds of dust arose. Every player made all the noise he possibly could. Occasionally TWO BITTER P.\RTISAXS dropped out of the melee and began to settle a misunderstanding with their fists. That was all right. But perhaps before half a dozen blows had been exchanged the for- tune of the game sent the crowd down upon the scene of fisticuffs, and in an instant the fighters were swallowed up in the wild stam- pede. One inviolable rule of the game was that all weapons must beleft in the camp. No player, however angry he might become, was allowed to leave the ground to get a weapon. All difficulties must be settled on the spot and with the fists. But this was the only restriction on fighting, and before the game was over bloody noses and bruised shins were numerous. The two bodies of players were distm- guished by those on one side painting them- selves white with clay. When the ball was driven through a goal there was a brief rest for a minute. Then the ball was tossed again from the centre stake, and the wild struggle was repeated. When one side had driven the ball through its goal 100 times the game was won. Usually the sides were so well matched that the contest was not decided until sundown. Catlin says he often sat on his horse for eight or ten hours at a stretch watching these exciting contests. But he confesTOd that when he tried to reproduce THE SPIRIT OF THE SCENES his pencil failed him. When the ball was up â€"that IS, flying through the airâ€" every- body was running and reaching for it But wnen it was "down"â€" that is, on the ground â€"the players flung themselves together, each side pushing and crowding toward its own goal. The 100 points having been scored by one side or the other, there was a generd distribution of wliiskey, and then the stakes were awarded. The gamra were not played without much practice and preparation. Choosing of sides began severaT weeks before the day set for the game. As the leaders chose their playera they sent runners throogh the villaee The nmners carried haU sks decb^ited with nbbons. Theplayer«i«nifiedhi8aoceptai*»l by tonchinath,? stidt ^The chamni,^ mho had chosenTiun, and ttaai fliir time odh- was engaeed for the gatee. ThislaVe 1^ w%h n4»4*!jqr woiaa Ut o, ,tt auT^ fte leaa»s tune to train tW loUow, the grand eroit. â- -â- 'it^- „ The Sioux had a favorite ball game. The women played it. When the warriors were full of whiskey and wanted something to makethem laugh they arranged a tourna- ment for the women. UsuiJhrth^Bpetook pUHttwhen the Sioux werejph mcB^^nods iS^mi in their annual .tp^iipwimthe ftgf tmdeTB. Hi*»oe8, j|RK)ns,*tod liBie] thhigrllNir t9 Ibe {sll|ii#e mind* bitoilf oi ontutOTed, w«Be huajkon a pq^ewhjWirirted „ ,«n crotahed stijB^. -â- Thefc were Jifte .pea. extraordinary; ^Tw^IidlB w«» tkH together by a «trafe af â-  foot and a half long. With a short stick the player was esqvected to stop the baUs by the string and throw them. The players were divided into two parties, and the aim of each side was to throw the two balls over its own goaL The women crowded and scuffled and tumbled over each other, while the warriors rolled upon the ground and laughed until their sides ached. Our Two Opinioiis. Us two wuz boys when we fell out, Nigh to the age uv my youngest now Don't reelect what 'tw^z about. Some small diff'rencelll allow. Lived next neighbors twenty years, A-hatin' eaSch other, me 'nd Jim He bavin' his opinion uv me, 'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him Grew up together 'nd wouldn't speak, Courted sisters, 'nd marr'd 'em, too Tended same meetin' house oncet a week, A hatin' each other, through and through But when Abe Linkem asked the West F'r soldiers, we answered, me and Jim, He bavin' his opinyin uvme, 'Nd I bavin' my opinyin uv him But down in Tennessee one night Ther was sound uv firin' ou' away, 'Nd the Sergeant allowed there'd be a fight With the Johnnie Reds some time nex'day 'Nd I wuz thinkin' uv Lizzie 'nd home, Jim stood afore me, long 'nd slim He bavin' his opinyin uvme, 'Nd I havin my opinyin uv him Seemed like we knew there wuz goin' to be Serious trouble f'r me and him Us two schuck hands, did Jim 'nd me. But never a word from me or Jim He"went his way 'nd I went mine, 'Nd into the battle roar went we, I havin' my opinyin uv Jim, 'Nd he havin' his opinyin uv me. Jim never come back from the war again. But I hain't forgot that last, last night. When waitin' f'r orders, uz two men Made up and schuck hands, afore the fight 'Nd after all it's soothin' to know That here I be 'nd yonder's Jim He havin' his opinyin uv me. 'Nd I havin' my opinyin uv him James Whitcome Riley. The Advance in Diamonds. The extraordinary rise in the price of dia- monds â€" in many cases over 50 per cent,â€" is exciting considerable attention. Both at Antwerp and Amsterdam several thousand cutters are out of work, as most of the mer- chants firmly decline any dealings at the present prohibitive rate. The truth is that a powerful syndicate has obtained, till May 15, an exclusive right over all the stones which may be found in South Africa, and its members are consequently able to regulate the prices at will. Although this darmg op- eration has been carried out under the ajgis of New Court, the principal names which figure in the combination are those of Messrs. Benato, Donckerspieler, Forges, and Shwa- bacher. It is doubtful whether any consid- erable pecuniary advantazie will accrue from the transaction, for the diamond syndicate already finds itself overladen with merchan- dise which it is utterly unable to dispose of. A few days ago it was forced '^o make sales at a sacrifice, so that, if the buyers maintain their present attitude, the much- coveted stones Will soon be again procurable at the normal rate. One of the indirect con- sequences of the syndicate has been a pro- portionate rise in the price of pearls, rubies, and emeralds. Under these circumstances, the outside public will do well to unitate the judicious reserve of the professional dealer. Eefuse to Siiave Widows' Heads. The agitation among the barbers of Bom- bay ishkely to result in their refusal to shave widows heads. Of course, those Who are acquamted with native views hi India will recognize that this intimation is not so com- ical as It sounds, but has a very serious meaning and reflects great credit on the native barber. It is a relic of a system of cruel treatment of native widows thit they should have their hair shorn off at the mo- ment of their affliction. Native journals have recently been denouncing the cruel practice in spite of the opposition of the iirahmins, who have themselves threatened to cut the hair of the widows if the barbers refuse. This, however, it is said the Brah- mins could not do without losing caste. Ihe revolt m Bombay is due to the excess- ive cruelty practiced toward widows there. Up country, says an Indian contemporary, thepractice of shaving the widow's headisnot so persistently enforced as in Bombay. The hair IS allowed to grow agam, and the widow IS only expected to submit to a renewal of the unwelcome (meration when she visits a Bhnne of special sanctity. In Bombay widows are shaved regubrly once a week, and this causes them deep distress. Serman rmniB8r3 sad Englirii. We are contimurily hearing of German commercial travelew in neutral countries cutting out represwitatives of English houses, or domg busmess shnply because EngUsh houses have no renresentatives able to sBeak ^ehinguage and introduce their aooda. S'.iti!^*°*?.®"'™«»°«'"P*P«' deplores ^e inaction of German financi^Ccompared SSn^^'S" ^S^'95?«^P of thefiJmof ^nl^?*"**,^ ^tSn, had arrived correspondent ckHs an "informations joar LATEST BY "'?S?^%*- Blif Kaiser Still United States Tt«TnrldflhI)St Henry M. Stanley ha.,., land after his long IC"' inc3i Continent." He reached l""' afternoon by a special 3trl* 4. been placed at his dispoJT?'^^ the Belgians. ^^^^^ti^^l Dover seemed to expect so the common and every eituen"' *= J to do so wended his way t **ii the hope that somethiig S*" head there. Thousands !!?..| they stood for more than ^^v " at the surroundings with which! on the most intimate tenn, about thecurious career of the they were waitmg so gHn^P- There we.er:5;- on the pier, and they we^Xl' breeze m honor of Stanley. As the vessel was being bertl,.j the pier very one mthefhSut*"' U^SUnley?"wasane£;S^. WELCOME, 'STAXUJ I Just before the landingstaee wi, «, broad^smile was observed oKe k^ face of Captam Nelson. " presi on seemg the assemblage ashore, StaT dived under cover. From his ul, African explorer was compelled to mw to meet the Mayor of Doâ„¢ "" an address of welcome. There was a far larger crowd in London J welcome Stanley than there had C] Doverv, but as the police arrangements J perfect he suffered no inconvenience moment he appeared on the platfoRn I was cheered, and cheered as he took his J in'the open carrage of Lady BurdetteCotiJ and he felt constrained to stand up and J many times to show his appreciation oi ' splendid welcome given to liim. He drove from the station, aceompi^ by Lady Burdette-CouttsandJIr.Bmdett Coutts and met with somethin" verv like an ovation from the immense crni that filled every thoroughfare in the \-k of the Victoria station. The Kaiser did plenty of work last tsi on sea and land. Frenclimen have I gnashing their teeth over the breial i regard of their feelings involved in hiiii to Alsace, but the people of that I province seemed pleased enough to set j German Emperor, and the flouts and: of the French press will not serve to k the fact that Strasburg, supposed to H writhing beneath the iron heel of the m er, was splendidly decorated and illni ' in his honor, and the enthusiasm oi i crowds could not have been surpassed e in Berlin. Something has evidently happened a' 'J Russian court. The Czar and his family!^ settled down comfortably at Gatchinjii the intention of staying amonth.whena last week telegraphic orders vrere recaij to repair the St. Petersburg palace forL' reception, and next day the entire coiii;^ turned unexpectedly to the capital censor sent out a paragraph which tliem papers, of course, published, saying ttaj! change was due to cold and rainy toim but from a climatic point of new St. Pf' burg just now is not more favored t Gatchina. The United States and theBritisha^ ment have made an imperative denuniij^ the Delagoa railway question ^a" settled by arbitration. TheUmted and British Ministers had a long mterfl last week with the Foreign Minister. ' has the affair under careful cousideranoil In consequence of the Caisse of the p^ debt bavins accepted the scheme toi j conversion ^of the debt without avaimg presence of tlie German delegate, ^^^ absent from Constantinople at the tu] acceptance, il'.e .iele.'ste 1»3 "' obections to tiie tii-.al iss«e """^TJl bonds despite the fact that the N.w issued an irade sanctioning tiies^nta-^ matter now rests with the GermaB=p- which is negotiatiiig conversion. Aphorisnis.- When thou art obliged to^peai, J^^l speak the truth; for equiv^at^J;,,, way to lying, and lying .â- ^.^."^tl -I eternal dest?uctiou.-[^^ ^\^^ '" Life is a quarry, out of ^hid « I mold and chisel and complete a chai»^ J [Goethe. There is nothing Uke a fi-«d, s with an honorable purpose. j\j;;i^ nature and insures sucM«.-i Brooke. -^a Kind words produce their o«^:' men's souls, and a b^« Jf ^5. â-  They soothe and comfort tne n ,^ make him ashamed of ws "f .jj,i,i We have not yet begun to use r^. abundance as they should be m^ Enthusiasm is the geni«s « ^^^^i^. truth accomi^ishes no victories [Bulwer-Lytton. He who is truly at peace "^Vj others. But he who is ^^^^^^^-" contented is disturbed bj ^a" â€"[Thomas a-Kempis. Go^? With firmness in the "j^^woc* ns to see the right, let «ff ' fearlessly and effectiveiyi coin. ,^ ,„nVie tie Hasty words often w^'^rfs" which injury gives J.f"" T7«getMS it, forgiving cur^it^" awayt1ies5ir.-{Tupper. SickWoman-"rm«j5^ L"^!^* i^ "" ^P" ^^^^ Eng- doctor, about beine bunei *^ jj. um«i ofpoBition are credited with und5- "You shan't be if I caa I««^_ ^khig^ jnsf to make theHui^v^s acquainted Depended on the U^j^, r.by(toTo^y. jft*:; knew yon i^i ,___ T^7:-"vVeU. that f;^ fl5wi^,i» Otherhoy whipped "Jf-AerWiSS' J^JmiitPO but if I ^^^fJ'Zt,^if ii?«k )k/£^ 1 fagt say, •* w«ddn t "5-' Ton ^,.-- not to-morrow- *gde heart, t»-day -^%th happy feet „^r'g winds and sno^ "« at Maple Grove faj .j^ownUttlehome^ Lommy. •-..JXA^'^V^H idBMi^i^