; “ rrr^rrTTrrrrrrr^ 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
RURAL ANECDOTES. 
ORIGINAL AND SELECTED, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN. 
“ A story in which native humor reigns, 
Is often useful, always entertains.”— Cowper. 
Aciiievments ok Science. —Lord Kaimes 
the distinguished author of Elements of 
Critizism, and other works, was one of the 
earliest improvers of Scottish husbandry, 
and a most enthusiastic farmer. One day 
in walking over his farm in company with 
his land steward, who was a disciple of the 
old school and much opposod to modern in¬ 
novations on established customs, his lord- 
ship in descanting on the future achiev- 
monts of Agriculture, finished by saying,— 
“ I have no doubt, Sir, but the time is not 
far distant when a farmer will carry out to 
his field, in his waistcoat pocket, a suffi¬ 
ciency of manure to fertilize an aero of 
land !” The old steward stopped short, 
scratched his head and exclaimed,—“I ha’n- 
na the least doubt o’it, ma lord ; no tho 
least doubt o’it; but when a farmer carries 
tho manure of an aero out to his field in his 
waistcoat pocket, I’m thinkin’ bo’ll easily 
bring hamo the produce in liis coat pocket 1” 
A Modern Farmer’s Wife. —A young la¬ 
dy, who porhaps is better acquainted with 
French than farming, was recently married 
to a farmer. In examining her now do¬ 
mains, sho ono day visited tho byre, (cow 
house,) when sho thus interrogated her milk¬ 
maid :—“ By the bye, Mary, which is the cow 
that gives the buttermilk ?” 
A Good Hint by a Novice. —A metropo¬ 
litan tradesman paid a visit to his country 
cousin, who was a Scotch farmer. In walk¬ 
ing over tho farm tho attention of tho cock¬ 
ney cit was attracted to a particularly tall 
and verdant spot in a fiold of wheat. On 
inquiring as to tho cause of tho superiority 
of this spot over tho rest of tho fiold, the 
farmer said, carelossly, “O, its only whore 
the muck-midden lay.” “ Muck-midden,” re¬ 
peated his southern relative, “ why, what is 
that ?” “ Its what you English gents would 
call a dung heap,” said the Scotchman, 
laughing. 44 I think,” replied the Londoner, 
casting his eye ever the dwarfish crop, “ it 
would be a good hidea to make it all muck- 
midden !” 
The Best for Planting. —A gentleman 
passing through a potato-patch observed an 
Irishman planting some potatoes. Ho in¬ 
quired of him what kind ho had there ?— 
“ Raw ones to bo sure,” replied tho son of 
Erin; “ if they were boiled ones they 
wouldn’t grow.” 
The Prose of Agriculture. —A romance 
reading young man, from a largo city, was 
ono day passing a moorland farm which was 
half covered with furzo and heath, and had 
a fine back ground of barren rocks and dark 
pines. ITo remarked to the farmer, who 
was grinding his way through raggod roots 
of stones— 44 A magnificent locality, Sir !— 
ono of nature’s triumphs!—an embodiment 
of poetry !” 44 O, yes,” said tho farmer, 
wiping tho large drops of perspiration from 
his brow, “ tho poetry of tho placo is weel 
enough ; hut if yo had to plow up tho proso 
o’ my ground, yo would wish tho poetry far 
enough.” 
Coleridge on Horseback. —Coleridge was 
a romarkably awkward horseman—so much 
so as generally to attract notice. Ho was 
once riding along tho turnpike road, in the 
county of Durham, (England,) when a wag, 
approaching him, noticed his peculiarity, 
and (quite mistaking his man,) thought the 
rider a fine subject for a little sport, when 
as ho drew near, ho thus accosted Mr. C.— 
“ I say, young man, did you moot a tailor on 
the road ?” “Yes,” replied Mr. C. (whowas 
nover at a loss for a rejoinder,) 44 I did; and 
he told mo, if I wont a little farther, I 
should moot a goose !” Tho assailant was 
struck dumb, while tho traveler jogged on. 
A. Singular Idea. —Sir John Sinclair 
when engaged with his great and useful 
work, “Tho Statistical Account of Scot¬ 
land,”—tho account of oach parish being, in 
general, drawn up by the parochial clergy¬ 
man,—wrote no fewer than four lottors to 
an aged minister in tho Highlands without 
being able to olicit a reply. Tho indefati¬ 
gable Baront, however, penned a fifth lottor 
written with red ink, which so wrought up¬ 
on tho fears and superstition of his rever¬ 
ence, that ho immediately answered Sir 
John’s letter, and in duo timo produced an 
able and interesting account of his parish. 
He “Lisped in Numbers.” — A young 
gentleman farmer, who lisped, having ho’t 
some pigs, askod a neighbor for tho use of 
a pen for a few days. Said he—“ I have 
juth been purthathin thomo thwine—two 
thowth and pigth. I want to put them in 
your pon, till I can find a placo for them.” 
“ Two thousand pigs !” exclaimed tho neigh¬ 
bor, “why, my pon will hardly hold a doz¬ 
en !” “You don’t understand me Mr. Bent. 
I don’t thay two thouthan pigth, but two 
thowth and pigths !” “I hear you,” said 
Mr. Bent,—“ two thousand pigs ! Why, 
you aro crazy !” “I toll you again,” ex¬ 
claimed the man angrily, “ I don’t mean 
two thouthand pigth, but two thowth and 
two pigth !” “ Oh, that is what you mean, 
eh ? Well, then, tho pen is at your service.” 
Conciseness Desirable. —A formal old 
gentleman finding his horse uneasy under 
tho saddle, alighted and callod to his ser¬ 
vant in tho following manner :—“ Tom, take 
off the saddle which is upon my bay horso 
and lay it upon tho ground ; then tako tho 
saddle from tho gray horso and put it upon 
my bay horso; lastly, put tho other saddle 
upon thy gray horso.” The fellow gaped 
all the whilo, and at last cried out—“Lack- 
a-day, Sir ! could not you have said at once 
4 change tho saddles ?’ ” 
LOSS OF HUMAN LIFE BY WAR. 
TnE last number of the Companion to 
tho Almanac contains a curious return, 
compiled from official sources, of tho killed 
and wounded of the regular British troops 
in the military and naval actions from 1798 
to 1815. Tho results exhibit a loss amount 
of bloodshed than the popular imagination 
usually connoets with groat wars. The to¬ 
tal number of killed was 19,795, of whom 
1.160 were officers. Tho total number of 
wounded was 75,359, of whom 9,720 wero 
officers. The proportion of the killed in 
the navy as compared with those in tho 
army, is about one-fourth; hut tho wound¬ 
ed wore in a much less proportion ; a fact 
which would seom to imply, that the moans 
of destruction is much moro effective in the 
former branch of force. It would manifest¬ 
ly, however, be wrong to speak, in round 
numbers, of 20,000 lives as the total amount 
of loss by sea and land during those twenty- 
two years of war. Wo know not how many 
of the wounded never recovered, or had 
their lives shortened and embittered by the 
injuries they had sustained. Wo are also 
without any means of stating the number of 
missing, or of tracing their fates. It would 
probably bo nearer tho truth to speak of 
40,000 lives sacrificed by tho war. The ac¬ 
tions of that warlike period were not of a 
sanguinary character during tho first few 
years. For example, tho loss of mon in 1797 
was only 38, threo of whom wore officers.— 
Even in tho year of tho arduous campaigns 
of Sir Ralph Abercrombio, in Egypt, the 
loss was no moro than 507 men and 22 offi¬ 
cers. In tlio years of the Peninsular cam¬ 
paigns, tho numbers increase to 1,380 in 
1809, which includes the slaughter at Co¬ 
runna; and 1,628 in 1811, which saw the 
bloody oncounters of Barossa, Fuentes do 
Onoro and Albuera. The slain of 1818 
were nearly 3,000. At Waterloo, there fell 
171 officers, and 2,341 privato men, while 
the wounded wore respectively, 680 and 9,- 
005.— JY. Y. Mirror. 
WHERE IS ALL TEE GOLD. 
In an elaborate article on tho currency, 
it is stated that nearly six years have elapsed 
sinco the discovery of gold was made in 
California, and within that time at least two 
hundred millions of gold have been added 
to tho currency of tho world, from that sin¬ 
gle source, and from Australia, fifty millions 
of dollars. We estimate the aggregate ad¬ 
dition to the gold currency of tho world, 
within tho past six yoars, to bo about two 
hundred and fifty millions of dollars. Yet 
it appears, by official returns recoived from 
time to time from the great banking insti¬ 
tutions of Europe and tho United States, 
that there has been no increase in the 
amount of gold bullion or coin in then- 
vaults. Tho total amount on hand is now 
no greater than it was six years ago. It has 
not, therefore, become the basis of the paper- 
currency. Tho increased valuo of metallic 
currency must have passed from tho mints 
into active circulation, or, at all events, in¬ 
to the hands of tho pooplo. Just so : tho 
gold has passed into tho hands of the peo¬ 
ple, and the people aro making way with it. 
We met a friend, afew days sinco, with a bag 
containing $900 in gold coin, which ho was 
hastening to have melted and metamor¬ 
phosed into watch-cases. He was but one 
out of thousands all over the country who 
aro “watching” their gold, and hence its 
absence on the solid basis of our wide-spread 
paper curroncy.— Saturday Courier. 
A JAIL IN INDIA. 
Bayard Taylor —tho admirable corres¬ 
pondent of tho N. Y. Tribune—visited tho 
Agra Jail, Northern India, and among other 
things, gives tho following account of iho 
“ exercisos 
“ Hero wore hundreds of men seated at 
their looms, weaving carpets, singing tho 
multiplication table in thundering chorus. 
‘ Twelve times twelve ,’ sang the monitor, in 
a shrill solo : ‘ one hundred and forty-four !’ 
burst out tho chorus, in all sorts of voices. 
Wo went into tho Blacksmith’s shops, whore 
tho prisoners, by a rofinomont of punish- 
mont, were made to forgo their own fetters, 
themselves fettered. ‘ Seven times sixteen,’ 
sang the solo, as ho raised his hammer.— 
‘One hundred and twelve was roared in an¬ 
swer, drowning tho clang and bang of tho 
iron. In the women’s department, there 
was a shrill tempest of vulgar fractions : the 
cooks recited astronomical facts whilo mix¬ 
ing their rice, even the hardest casos con¬ 
fined in solitary cells were going through 
thoir ‘ a-b abs,’ through a holo in tho door 
to a monitor who was standing outsido.” 
THE NEW CARPET. 
“I can hardly sparo it, Jeannette, but as 
you have so set your heart upon it, why I 
supposo I must.” 
Tho young wife looked with rapture upon 
the ten shining gold pieces. 
“ One hundred dollars,” sho said to herself 
“ how rich it makes mo feel. It seems a 
great deal to pay for a carpet, hut “ gold 
worth is gold,” tho old saying is, and one 
good purchase is better than a dozen poor 
ones. I’ll buy ono of the very finest and 
most beautiful Brussels.” 
Afternoon camo; tho rosy babe was laid 
asleep in his cradle, and the little maid re¬ 
ceived a score of charges to linger by its 
side every moment till tho darling woke up. 
Jeannette, finished with eager anticipation, 
lookod her prettiest, and throwing a man¬ 
tilla over her handsome shoulders, sho was 
just hurrying away when a loud ring at the 
door brought out a very pettish “oh, dear !” 
and the expected intrusion. 
“ Oh, Jeannette !— dear Jeannotto !” and 
a pale young creature sank panting on tho 
sofa. “ We aro in such a ti-oublo—such 
dreadful trouble ! Can you help us ? Do 
you think we could borrow a hundred dollars 
from your husband ? Couldn’t you get it for 
us, Jeannette ? You know you said I might 
always rely upon you when trial camo, and 
poor Charles expects every moment to have 
his little stock of goods attached, and ho is 
so sickly !” 
“ Dear, dear !” said Jeannette, her great 
good heart suddenly contracting ! “ Edward 
told mo only this morning not to ask him for 
any money for three months;” and sho 
gathered her purse up tightly in her hand¬ 
kerchief ; “ I’m sure if—I — only — could 
oblige you, I would ; but I expect Edward 
is really hard pushed. You know he has 
just commenced business. Can’t you get it 
elsewhere ? Have you tried ?” 
“ Yes,” answorod her friend, despondingly, 
“ I’ve tried everywhere. People know that 
Charles is sick, and cannot repay im¬ 
mediately. Oh ! it seems to me some credi¬ 
tors have such stony hearts ! Mr. J- 
knows just our circumstances, yet he insists 
upon that money. Oh ! it is so hard ! It 
is so hard !” 
Her pitiful voice, and tho big tears running 
like rain down her pallid cheeks, almost 
unnerved Jeannetto’s selfishness. 
But that carpet—that beautiful carpet sho 
had promised herself so long, and so often 
boon disappointed of its possession, that she 
could not give it up. Sho knew her husband’s 
heart—and that he would urge her to self- 
denial—no ; she would not see him—if sho 
did it was all over with tho carpet. 
“Well,” said her poor friend, in a des¬ 
ponding voice, rising to go, “ I’m sorry you 
can’t help me; I know you would if you 
could, and it is something to know that— 
but I go back with a heavy heart. Good 
morning, dear Jeannette; I hope you will 
never know what it is to want and suffer.” 
How handsome the now carpet looked as 
the sun streamed in on its wreathed flowers, 
its colors of fawn, and blue, and crimson, its 
soft, velvety richness—and how proud felt 
little Mrs. Jeannette at tho lavish praises of 
her neighbors. It was a bargain, too; sho 
had saved ten dollars in its purchase, and 
bought a pair of elegant window shades—a 
beautiful match for her beautiful carpet. 
“ I declare !” said her husband, “ this looks 
liko comfort; but it spoils all my pleasuro to 
think of poor Charley &omors. The poor 
follow is dead.” 
Jeannette gave a little sharp scream, and 
tho flush faded from her face. 
“ Yes ! that rascally J-! For tho 
paltry sum of a hundred dollars, he attached 
every thing in the little shop, and was so 
insulting besides, that Charles, springing 
angrily up in his bed, ruptured a blood 
vessel, and lived scarcely an hour afterward. 
You know ho has been weak and sickly this 
great whilo.” 
44 And Mary ?” issued from Jeannotte’s 
bloodless lips. 
“ She has a dead child ; and they tell me 
her life is despaired of. Why on earth 
didn’t they send to me ? I could easily have 
spared tho money for that purpose. If it 
had stripped mo of tho last cent, they should 
have had it. Poor fellow—poor Mary !” 
“And I might have saved it— all!” shrieked 
Jeannette, sinking upon her knees on the 
rich carpet; 44 oh, Edward, will God over 
forgivo mo for my heartlessness ? Mary did 
call here, and with tears begged me to aid 
her—and I—I had tho whole sum in my 
very hand—and coldly turned her away. 
Oh ! my God ! forgive mo; forgivo me.” 
In tho vory agony of grief, poor Jeannot to 
would receive no comfort. In vain her 
husband strove to soothe her; she would not 
hear a word in extenuation of hor selfish 
conduct. 
44 1 shall nover forget poor Mary’s tears; 
I shall never forget her sad voice ; they will 
haunt mo to mv dying day. Oh ! tako it 
away—that hateful carpet; I have purchased 
it with tho death of my dearest friend. How 
could I bo so cruel ? I shall never bo happy 
again, never—never 1” 
Years have passed since then, and Mary 
with her husband lie together under tho 
green sod of the church yard. Jeannette 
has grey hairs mixed with tho bright brown 
of her tressos, but she lives in a homo of 
splendor, and nono know but to bless her. 
Thoro is a Mary, a gentle Mary in her house¬ 
hold, dear to hor as hor own sweet children 
—sho is tho orphan child of those who have 
rested side by sido for ten long years. 
Edward is rich, but prosperity has not 
hardened his heart. His hand nover tires 
of giving out God’s bounty to God’s poor; 
and Jeannotto is tho guardian angel of the 
neody. Tho 44 now carpet,” long sinco old, 
is sacredly preserved as a memento of 
sorrowful but penitent hours, and many a 
weary heart owes to its silent influence the 
prosperity that has turned want’s wilderness 
into an Eden of plonty. 
Jfffr % Jittnes. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
COUSIN ANNIE’S STORIES OF THE WEST. 
BY PRUDENCE FAY. J 
“ Now, cousin Annie, you havo had titno 
to rest after your long journey,” said tho ' 
light-hearted Laura Watson ; 44 so please , 
toll us all about tho West. Tell us of tho 
prairie flowers, and the prairie beauties, if 
there are beauties who live in the bright 
glare of the sun, receiving the full bonefit 
of oach breath of wind. Tell us of tho corn 
fiolds, for I have heard ono would equal an 
eastern farm. And the pork, of which one 
farmer, produces as much as a whole settle¬ 
ment here.” 
“Well, girls, which will it be—first the , 
flowers, and beauties, or the corn and pork.” 
44 Oh ! tho substantiate first; but you must 
know our curiosity is up, so you must tell 
us every thing,” was the reply. 
44 Get your work, then ; it is not good to 
be idlo, even whilo wo aro telling stories, 
and I wish to finish this patch-work quilt, 
boforo my return. And beside, if you should 
sit idle it might influence me to do so.” 
“But,” said Ellen Watson, 44 why do you 
make patch-work quilts ? Wo have none, 
and mother says it is a wasto of time.” 
44 1 will tell you after awhilo why I make 
them,—and timo thus spent is often better 
employed, than many other ways that daily 
excite our attention and observation. But 
the corn-fields come first. I have stood 
upon a rising ground, and without changing 
my position, have looked upon twenty-two 
thousand acres of corn.” 
“Twenty-two thousand acres?—surely 
cousin, you aro joking.” 
44 Not at all, girls. And should you over 
stand upon an eminenco where tho corn is 
high enough to conceal tho ground, you 
would not hesitate to pronounco it a beauti¬ 
ful sight. I have visited at a farmor’s on 
the prairie where there wero two thousand 
aci’03 of grain in ono fiold—one thousand 
five hundred in corn, tho remainder in wheat 
and oats. Tho samo farmer had fifteen 
hundred hogs fattening, and many have 
oven more. Then tho poultry; the yard 
was largo, but every spot soomod alive. 
They seldom brought in loss than a bushel of 
eggs oach day. The prairie hens were nearly 
as plenty as tho domestic fowls; tho eastern 
farmers would havo thought them very 
annoying, but there grain was so plentifully 
raised, that what they destroyed was not 
grudged them. Prairie chickens cannot be 
tamed. I saw a pen with more than a 
hundred in it, taken as soon as hatched, but 
were as wild as those on tho broad plain. 
Autumn or spring flocks of wild geoso are 
ever in sight, committing sometimes fearful 
depredations in the fields of wheat, for 
which, as a ponalty, ono always in those 
seasons occupies a conspicuous placo on 
tho well fillod table, of the prairie farmer.” 
44 It must be very convenient for those 
who aro commencing on new farms to have 
fowls so plenty,” said Laura; 44 but then fruit 
must bo very scarce.” 
44 In the newly settled portions, apples 
and peaches, and in fact all cultivated va¬ 
rieties, aro,—but then delicious strawberries, 
and indeed berrios of all kinds, gi'ow almost 
every where; plum groves aro frequently in 
the midst of a farm, fox grapes of tho largest 
size aro very plenty—so tho farmers on 
those boautiful prairies know hut little of 
tho privations of those who settlo in the 
timber. 
We have this morning talked of tho sub¬ 
stantiate, as Laura calls them; so if you 
please wo will talk of the flowers and 
beauties, another timo,—and then I will 
probably explain to Ellen, why we mako 
patch-work in the West.” 
KATE HUNTLEY’S EXAGGERATION. 
“ On ! there are thousands !” said little 
Mrs. Huntley, to her dress-maker, who was 
measuring silk by the yard, thousands and 
plonty.” 
Just then she caught a sly glance from 
her young husband, as ho looked over his 
paper. She knew it was in rebuke for her 
exaggeration, so she said laughing— 44 1 can’t 
help it, William, 4 if I was to die;’ so just let 
me talk as I please ; I don’t hinder you.” 
William Huntley had nover been pleased 
with this peculiarity of his pretty brido. Tho 
habit of exaggeration ho know led to em¬ 
bellishment, and that to unscrupulous false¬ 
hood. Ever sinco their wedding day he had 
tried seriously to check, this propensity. 
But alas ! he found like many anothor lord 
of creation, that 
“ When woman won’t, she won’t, 
And there’s the end on’t.” 
Never was the young and handsome Kate 
Huntley moro volublo, or in bettor spirits 
than to-day. Tho magic of fine colors and 
rich silks, and tho winning small talk of tho 
little dress-maker, who was a droll genius 
in her way, had sot her tongue on hinges, 
and sho indulged hor besotting habit with 
perfect abandon. 
The Huntleys wore to havo a small party 
in the evening, and Mr. H. determined to 
try an experiment which ho had long had in 
contemplation. So when tho ladies had 
assembled, and tho gentlemen wei’o fast 
dropping in, with the rest camo young 
Huntley, looking quite flushed and nervous. 
“Why aro you so late, Mr. Huntley?” 
asked his wife, looking up with mock dis¬ 
pleasure. 
44 My dear, if it had been to mako my last 
will and testament, I couldn’t havo come 
sooner,” ho said earnestly. 44 I’ve been 
working liko a dray horse; thousands of 
clerks to oversee, twenty thousand cartloads 
to ship off, millions of accounts to attend, 
besides it’s been hotter than six ovens all 
day.” 
By this timo every oyo was upon him— 
astonishment and mirth predominant; but 
our young husband took it cooly, wiped his 
heated brow, and looked as unconcerned 
and innocent as if he had said nothing to 
attract attention; but his wife’s rosy cheeks 
grew rosier. 
44 What do you think of L’s new book ?” 
asked a gentleman, as tho conversation 
turned on literature. 
44 Heavenly !” exclaimed Huntley, rolling 
his eyes, and casting a half furtive glance 
towards his wife. 44 It sets mo in perfect 
raptures—I feed on ambrosia—I drink 
nectar. If I could see the author I should 
certainly take my heart in my hand, and 
give it to him.” 
A smile went round tho assembly. 
“By the way, I’ve been round to Allen’s 
new house,” ho added, following up his ad¬ 
vantage. 44 Happy Allen ! what a situation ! 
Soft, balmy airs, blowing over a salt marsh 
loaded with vapors—a palace of a house— 
two stories high and painted yellow—glo¬ 
rious trees—cut down within a foot of tho 
ground—splendid garden—with ono rose¬ 
bush—and a wilderness ofpig-weed—charm¬ 
ing view—flats on evory side—delightful 
pond—peeping hero and thero under tho 
thick green scum and duck-wced—I should 
think Allen would bo as happy—well, I 
can’t think of anything less than a king.” 
By this time the company wei’e protty 
well initiated into Huntley’s secret. The 
ladies laughed faintly, for they were evoi’y 
ono ot them guilty in a greater or less 
degree ot hyperbole—as perhaps you may 
be, reader. They rallied, however, and 
jested with their tormentor, but he sustained 
his part admirably throughout the ovening. 
Evory song that was sung bid fair to set 
him in raptures. If ho told the truth, he 
was intending to dio twenty times—trans¬ 
ported out of himself with joy twice as 
often ; never was so delighted in all his life, 
every fivo minutes—and by the way ho 
risked his thousands one would havo thought 
him cashier of the hank of England. Every¬ 
thing was 44 sublime or horrible-;” evory 
woman 44 beautiful as an angel,” or homely 
as a “hedge-fence.” 
In vain his pretty wife endeavored by all 
the masonic signs of wedlock, to stop hep 
roguish husband ; and she could scarcely 
keep her equanimity till the last guest had 
gone. Then she burst into a passion of 
toars, and 44 would not be comforted.” 
44 Como, Katy, tell me how it all looked 
and sounded;” said Huntley, half relonting 
that he had vexed her so. 
44 You know you looked ridiculous,” she 
answered through her sobs; you know you 
mortified mo half to death. I wish—mother 
—had — been — here, you wouldn’t havo 
dared to treat mo so. i shall never hold up 
my head again in socioty. 1 thought I should 
die.” 
44 Now Katy,” replied her husband, des¬ 
pairing at tho failure of his efforts, 44 how 
do you think you sounded yesterday, when 
you declared your neck was broken because 
you tripped over a brush—or when your 
dress-maker fitted your dress you said it 
was a mile too large; were not those ex¬ 
pressions fully as ridiculous as mine ?” 
Katy reflected a moment. 44 1 don’t see as 
I can help it,” she said pettishly, 44 I’ve talked 
so ever since 1 was born.” 
44 Is there any need of such oxtravagance, 
Katy ? come, lot your good sense answer.” 
44 Why no, I supposo not;” answered Katy, 
only pouting a very little, 44 but I can’t help 
it; everybody talks so." 
“Not everybody, Katy. Como, what shall 
I get you if you will only break yoursolf of 
this odious habit ? I ll buy you a beautiful 
little pony.” 
44 Oh, delightful!” exclaimed Katy; 44 I’d 
do anything in the world for such a gift— 
yes. I’ll stop it if I havo to cut my tongue 
out!” 
44 Oh ! Katy, Katy, cried her husband, you 
are incorrigible.” 
But Katy did try, and may you dear 
reader succeed as well as she. — Olive 
Branch. 
INTERESTING TO YOUNG LADIES. 
She stood beside the altar when she was 
sixteen. Sho was in love; her destiny rest¬ 
ed on a creature in fashionable clothes with 
an empty pocket. He “came of a good 
family, however, and blood you know is 
something. She looked lovely as sho pro¬ 
nounced tho vow. Think of a vow from 
auburn hair, dark eyes, and pouting lips, 
only sixteen years old ! She stood beside 
tho wash tub when her twenty-fifth birth¬ 
day arrived. Tho hair, the eyes, and tho 
lips wore not calculated to excite tho heart. 
Fivo cross, young children were about the 
room, some crying, some breaking things, 
and ono urging the necessity of an imme¬ 
diate supply of tho lacteal secretion. She 
stopped in despair, and sat down, and tears 
trickled down hor once plump and ruddy 
cheeks. Alas ! Nancy, early marriages are 
not the dodge. Better enjoy youth at home, 
and hold lovers at a distance, until you havo 
limb, muscle and heart to face the frowning 
world and a family. If a chap really loves 
you, ho can wait two or three years, mako 
presonts, take you to concerts, and so on, 
until the time comes, Early marriages and 
early cabbagos are tender productions.— 
Williamsburgh Times. 
