T 
•T. 
that’s she that was Annie Grey. Fred 
Smith used to be a nice feller, but he drinks 
crful hard now, and its a killin’ his poor 
wife and himself tu, and Deacon,” solemnly 
raising her forefinger, “they du say that he 
took his fust glass to the donation, tu years 
ago. I knew some evil would come on it.” 
Somehow, during the conversation, the 
fidgety little rocking chair in which Aunt 
Eunice was sitting had found itself in close 
proximity to the great big arm chair which 
so comfortably held the deacon. 
“Ices,” said he,- “yes, pity, ahem! a great 
pity, ’ and then he crossed one knee over 
the other and moving his foot uneasily and 
then putting that foot down again anc 
crossing the other knee over, he ahemmed 
once or twice, and then turning square 
around he looked Aunt Eunince courageous¬ 
ly in the face and said abruptly: “Miss Price, 
you know its been nigh on to four years 
now siiice, ahem, since the Lord, ahem, seen 
fit to take away my companion. She was a 
good woman, ahem, Susan was, I sot great 
store by her, ahem, but, wall, Miss Price, 
the old house is big and lonesome, ahem, 
things needs fixin’ up some, ahem, I don’t 
know how to paper and paint, and replen¬ 
ish &c., all alone. I aint got nobody to 
take no interest in it. Miss Price, you’re 
just to my notion, ahem, dear Eunice ahem, 
ahem-m would you mind a tryin’ me? I’ll 
do the best I can to make you comfortable.” 
The prim old lady had during this long 
speech, sat looking demurety into the fire, 
but with a very loving glance from her 
bright black eyes, as she now turned them 
upon the deacon, she answered. 
“I’ve always respected you, Deacon, and 
I don’t care if I do.” and then—Well, we 
w.on’t intrude longer, but will drop the 
curtain on the happy pair, and leave them 
to themselves. 
(To be continued.) 
One Way to Get Rich. 
Nothing is more easy than to grow rich. 
It is only to trust nobody, to befriend none, 
to get everything and save all you can get; 
to stint ourselves and everybody belonging 
to us; to be the friend of no man and have 
no man for your friend; to heap interest 
upon interest, cent upon cent; to be mean, 
miserable, and despised for some twenty or 
thirty years, and riches will come as sure 
as disease and disappointment. And when 
pretty nearly enough wealth is collected by 
a disregard of all the charities of the 
human heart, and at the expense of every 
enjoyment save that of wallowing in filthy 
meanness, death comes to finish the work; 
the body is buried in a hole, the heirg 
dance over it, and the spirit goes where? 
— Selected. 
Musing on Skates. 
Thus we go: 
To and fro, 
Up and down. 
Round and round, 
In and out, 
All about, 
Seeking health, 
Or for wealth. 
Such is life, 
Constant strife 
For some place, 
Where we may 
Skate alway, 
And ne’er fall, 
Or—or—s-p-r-a-w-1! 
* * * # 
Oh how fiat! 
Where’s our hat ? 
Modest Muse. 
Coreopsis and Gallardia. 
BY S. C. W. 
For the bouquet for general purposes I 
know of no two annuals more showy or 
beautiful than the Coreopsis and Gallardia, 
and the fact of their not being very com¬ 
mon in the flower garden renders them 
much more desirable. Both are as easily 
grown as the old fashioned Marigold. 
They should be planted in the border as soon 
as the ground becomes warm, in rows or 
massed together, as single specimens of 
such plants are by no means rttractive. A 
fine Balsam shows to best advantage stand¬ 
ing above or apart from others of its kind; 
)ut plants of a somewhat straggling growth 
look best in rows or massed together. 
