meat of good will, such marked partiality 
for her was thawing the ice of her prejudice, 
evidently, for she bade me give him the rest 
of her supper, and fetch a porringer of milk 
from the pantry. 
How my grandfather watched the little 
creature us it lapped up the creamy toast 
and put its nimble tongue into the delicious 
milk! lie found it so pleasant to be kind to. 
something 1 I really thought his eye* misty. 
After doggie had finished supper, and 
washed his dishes, too, a good deal more 
neatly than some Bridgets, my grandfather 
lit hia lantern and said, “Come, Curley, let 
ua find our night quarters.” He was too 
wary a tactitian to prolong the interview, or 
press hia unexpected advantage, lest some 
turbulent object should upset everything. 
Thereupon, up spoke the enemy, 
“ I guess I wouldn’t bother to put the lit¬ 
tle fellow out to-night. You can fix things 
out there in the morning. There’s an old 
starch box out in the woodshed, and you 
can make him a bed in that. 'T won’t be so 
lonesome like.” 
Could 1 believe my ears! She had said • 
the “ little fellow ” instead of the “ crittur," 
and the cared whether he was lonesome! 
No comments were made on this con¬ 
cession, (all! he was a wise old man!) but he 
stepped out with his pet coiled up in his 
arms, as briskly as if he were thirty instead 
of seventy years old. While he was gone I 
ventured, “ Grandma, isn’t he a real little 
beauty ?” 
“ He’s well enough, I s’pose, (tartly) but 
1 handsome is that handsome does.' Come, 
child, fly round and clear up the litter.” 1 
saw my mistake, and kept still. 
That night I won’t deny there were tears 
shed in the small chamber under the eaves. 
How vividly the little creature, with its 
bright, frolicsome ways had brought back 
the dear home faces and home pets ? How 
my heart ached for the rude cottage over 
whose low roof the vines clambered, for the 
loving, tolling father and mother, for the 
brown-headed brothers with whom I had so 
often roamed the beech woods, inspected the 
circuit of traps for captured foxes and wood¬ 
chucks, and divided the Bpoil of nuts and 
berries. 
Next morning I was up betimes. Grand¬ 
ma w r as already at work iu the kitchen, fly¬ 
ing pork and corn fritters for breakfast. And, 
—could 1 believe my eyes this time ?—there 
was Master Co« L\ bright, as a new dollar, 
galloping across /he long room, violating the 
spotless sanctlwfTof the cuisine with pro¬ 
fane and audacious paws! And the let him! 
Moreover, the impudent rogue made frequent 
sorties on the good woman herself, to tin; 
imminent danger of her immaculate petti¬ 
coats, and nearly upset her just as she was 
filling the coffee-pot from the hot tea-kittle. 
She, on her part, not being well up in puppy 
dialect, would cry out, “ Scat, git out, you 
sauce-box!" and then fall to laughing and 
scolding together. 
These objurgations, however, made slight 
impressions on his cool, saucy temper, and 
the next moment after an ear-boxing, he 
would spring at her from a new ambuscade, 
as much as to say, " I'm not going to break 
friendship for a trifle.” 
Alter breakfast grandpa began to finable 
among his tools, saying, “ I guess I may as 
well fix that box for the dog before I for¬ 
get it.” 
“ A party business, I should think,” broke 
out bis wife, “ a fussin’ over pups, and the 
hayin’ standin’ still, and the north pasture 
fence half down." 
“That’s a fact,” meekly chimed in the 
other, and I never heard anything more 
about the kennel in the calves’ pen. 
Things seemed to be uncommonly jolly in 
the quiet old house that day, though Curley 
was guilty of several grave misdemeanors, 
such as gnawing the heel out of a new mixed 
sock, dipping his brown paws into a cream 
jug, lapping out the heart of a custard pie, 
making furious dashes at the big spinning 
wheel, and breaking the rolls so often that 
he had to be shut up in the smoke house. 
Grandma didn’t find much fault with me, 
though I broke the handle to a yellow mug, 
and skipped the seam three times in knitting, 
because I couldn't keep my eyes off the little 
dog. She even got so chatty as to tell me 
all about her wedding, aud how she rode 
to her new home on a pillion behind her 
husband. 
The next morning, as I was turning grind¬ 
stone for grandpa, he confided to me that 
missing my grandmother from bed in the 
night, he became alarmed, and went in 
search of her. 
“ And where do you think she was ?” said 
he, with a droll grimace. “Well, she was 
out in the woodshed, in her night-gown, 
stooping down over the little dog, and try¬ 
ing to stroke it off to sleep! She looked 
kinder sheepish when she see me, and said 
‘ The critter whined so she couldn’t sleep a 
wink.’ But it’s ray belief,” added the dear 
old soul, in a whisper, as he felt the edge of 
his scythe, “ that she was more plagued be¬ 
cause she tbo’t the little fellow was lone¬ 
some out there alone in the dark, and she 
wanted to cosset it a little.” 
affecting service my grandmother was pre¬ 
vented from attending by a sudden sick 
headache, but she sent over a pan of dough¬ 
nuts and a bottle of blackberry cordial to 
assist them in sustaining the rigors of the 
journey. She also charged her husband to 
make all proffers of assistance in looking 
after their worldly affairs during their ab¬ 
sence. To this he heartily assented, and, 
with a sly twinkle in his kind old eyes, de¬ 
parted. 
When he returned, two hours later, I no¬ 
ticed that he went round to the woodshed 
door, and fumbled and poked about in the 
dark some time before coming in. My 
grandmother was so far recovered as to be 
sitting up in bed, eating a slice of toast, 
which she had instructed me how to make. 
“ Well, par, tell me all about it,” said she, 
in a cheery voice. We drew out the recital 
at length in piecemeal, though my grand¬ 
father seemed to be remarkably absent- 
minded. 
“ And did you give my message?” 
“ Sartain, 1 did.” 
“ And warn’t there nothin' we could do 
for um? 1 should be proper glad to do 
something, after all the nights they sot up 
with you, when you had the ’flamatory 
rheumatiz last spring.” 
“Wall, no; there warn’t nothin’—yes— 
no, nothing in particular." 
“ Now I’ll warrant there was,” said the 
old lady, pushing back her nighl-cap border 
and looking scrutinizingly at her husband. 
“ You look as guilly as if you’d been sheep 
stealin’. Come, out with it.” 
" Wall,” said be, meditatively, “ I dunno 
how Juno could have had the heart to do 
it?” . 
“ Do what?" said soprano, impatiently. 
“ Wall, fact is, Juno’s gouc and had a lot 
of puppies just at this mighty onconvenient 
time, and the deacon didn’t know what in 
the world to do with ’em. They’re just big 
enough to wean. But the neighbors have 
divided them round 'mongst them, all but 
one, and that’s the puniest of the lot to my 
notion. Miss KELLOGG said she would’nt 
part with that no how, and talked strong of 
taking it 'long. But when I up and tolled 
her how mighty consumed you was to do 
suthiu’ for her, she looked mighty pleased, 
and said she knew ’twas rulin' a free boss to 
death, but there warn’t nothing in the world 
you could do l'or her equal to takin’ care o’ 
that pup while she's gone.” 
“ And what did you tell her ?” said my 
grandmother, with a sudden sharpening of 
key. 
“ Wall, 1 just told her you warn’t a master 
hand for dogs, and I couldn’t say how you’d 
feel ’bout it. Guessed Td go 1mm and talk 
it up.” 
The old lady turned her keen, gray eyes 
full upon him to see whether she was being 
tricked, but he sat looking down at. his cow¬ 
hide boots with such an honest, contrite 
look that the suspicion vanished. 
“ 1 might fix up a place for him in the 
barn,” said he at length, musingly. “ There’s 
the empty calves’ pen. That’s snug and 
tight, and I could keep an old platter there, 
and feed him with the froth from the milk 
pails.” 
“ There’s no way out on’t,” she muttered, 
with just such a cast of countenance as I 
remembered to have noticed once before, 
when she sat down to have the turnkey ap¬ 
plied to a contumacious molar. “ Miss Kel¬ 
logg had much better have drowned the 
whole lot than to have been plaguing her 
neighbors with ’um. He’ll do well enough 
out to the barn. You’d better take an old 
basket and go right over and git the thing, 
’cause they'll warnt to be abetting up airly 
in the mornin’.” 
“He’s out in the woodshed. I thought 
mabbe you’d want to see him before you'd 
made up your mind.” 
“ What do I care (sharply) how the critter 
looks! Tie may be ns humbly as a rail 
fence for all I care! Guess the cows and 
sheep won’t make faces at him!” 
At my entreaty my grandfather brought 
in a covered basket, set it down on the floor 
and raised the lid. There, curled up in a 
roly-poly, and looking very much like a 
beautiful mink muff, lay the little doggie, 
quite unconscious of the evil eye that sur¬ 
veyed him. Presently he roused, shook 
himself, and putting one silken paw on the 
edge of the basket, looked inquisitively 
round. 
This was too bewitehing for me, and I 
took him in my arms and sat down ou the 
bed; but he immediately sprang from me 
and began to fawn round my grandmother, 
wagging his little whisk of a tail, shaking 
hia cunning crimped ears, and testifying his 
joy with extravagant energy. 
“TTe thinks its Miss Kellogg,” explained 
my grandfather, " and feels kinder to hum. 
She used to corset him ’mazingly.” 
The poor old lady who had never in her 
life had a pet animal—who didn't know how 
it felt to have one fond oi her—was too much 
amazed at the ardor of his greeting to cry 
quarter till he had danced quite a madcap 
jig on her clean quilted counterpane, fortu¬ 
nately without soiling it. Such an empress- 
DOWN THE SLOPE. 
0JHCS 
Who knowetb life but questions death 
With guesslngs of that dimmer day 
When one Is slowly lift from clay 
On whined breath. 
But man advances; far and high 
His forces Cy with lightning stroke; 
Till, worn with years, bis vigor broke. 
He turns to die: 
When lo! he finds It still a life; 
New ministration and new trust, 
Along a happy way that’s Just 
Aside rrom strife. 
And all day following friendly feet 
That lead so bravely to the light; 
As one walks downward, strong and bright. 
The slanted street— 
And feels earth’s benedictions wide. 
Alike on forest, lake or town ; 
Nor marks the slope—he going down 
The sunniest side. 
O, bounteous Nature’s everywhere! 
Perchance, at least, one need not fear 
A change to cross from your love here 
To God’s love there. 
HOT LOST. 
Not wholly lost the summer's faded glow, 
The vanished loveliness of field and rill, 
Earth’s dear flower-thoughts that wlth»~ a * oae a * 0 ' 
For in our hearts their sweetnes»-'‘ oe '* rs * tl " : 
Bright visions yet are ours of *»-mmer dyes. 
Long lost and faded to all r*ner eyes,— 
1.1 nks that Time’s c®oel scythe In vain would 
sever— 
A tender memory of some happy noon. 
Flushing dim Autumn with the tints q’ June— 
Ot moonlight sweet that lights our iiv«s forever; 
A ne’er-torgouen twilight, weirdly grand. 
Thrilling the heart with thoughts too deep to 
speak— 
The wild-flowers nestled In a dear one’s hand— 
The dying sun that flush’d her drooping cheek: 
These yet are left, tho’Summer’s prime be o’er, 
Part of our very live3, our own for evermore. 
BITING THE FINGER NAILS, 
This is a habit contracted by many young 
persons, and one which they seem loth to 
part with, ns many grow to manhood and 
womanhood who still adhere to the vulgar 
habit. Who among us would think of nib¬ 
bling at a bunch of human hair during our 
leisure moments? None, we opine, as a 
single hair found in our victuals at meal 
times is revolting. Yet those who practice 
the human crib, biting, (lo coin tui expres¬ 
sion,) take within the precincts of their mas¬ 
ticators nearly or quite the same chemical 
properties. 
We like to see finger nails well cleaned 
and neatly cut, not to© closely. But when 
wc see them bitten off so close as to almost 
cause the flow of blood, it gives us a chill of 
horror. 
If you have children who are inclined to 
use their teeth for shortening and cleaning 
their finger nails, teach them the error of 
their ways, and purchase a nice little knife 
for their use. It will not fail to be money 
well expended. Were we disposed, wc could 
give well authenticated accounts of children 
dying, as it was supposed, without just cause, 
but eventually traced to the biting off and 
swallowing bits of their Auger nails, the 
sharp points of which adhered to the coats 
of the stomach, causing ulceration and con¬ 
sequent death. L. D. Snook. 
As to eating hair, Mi’. Snook, we know a 
lady whose front hair — “ golden, golden 
locks”—was eaten off to within two or 
three inches of her head, by her lover, who 
demonstrated his affection for her in that 
unique way. Her hair has never grown any 
longer since. Moreover, we have oflea seen 
men mouthing the ends of moustache and 
beard when in distracted or retracted 
moods. We only add this as proof that peo¬ 
ple invariably prefer having hair “ served in 
separate dishes.” 
torifs for iluralxsts 
TWO OLD FOLKS: 
OR, 
HOW THE DOG WON MY GRANDMOTHER. 
wolds of “York State,” had indulged a 
secret hankering alter a dog. “ The heart 
wants something to be kind to," was the pa¬ 
thetic cry of a gifted but desolate woman. 
So it was with my grandfather. Many were 
the cralty plots for procuring a household 
pet which his lynx-eyed spouse nipped, un¬ 
timely, in the bud. 
lu due time I, the little Samantha, was 
sent home from the aforesaid wolds to get 
a little polish and schooling. Reinforced by 
my pleading eyes, the dear old man began 
to assault my grandmother’s prejudices with 
new vigor. He oven ventured upon entreaty 
in this fashion: 
" Poor lonesome gal—always lived with a 
raft of young ’uns; half a dozen dogs and 
cats; no end of ducks and chickens, and a 
tame raccoon, aud a cage full of squirrels 
and young injuus, and—” 
“Don’t tell me,” broke in my grand¬ 
mother, whisking her knitting-needles very 
furiously. “Samantha Jane used to be 
the purtiest and tidiest gal in all these parts! 
To live with all that litter ’round her! I do 
U’leve she’s getting barbarious J” 
“ Well, that’s the way of the kentry, 1 
s’pose,” responded my advocate, soothingly. 
So I tlio’t ef we could kinder borrow a 
kitten or pup while the child’s here, to keep 
her from being humsick, ’twouldn’t be a bad 
idee.” 
“Well, now, par Goodsill, I do b’leve 
you’re getting soft in your old age! Hasn’t 
the child come here on pappose to git kinder 
slicked up and civilized? Ain’t I trying 
my best to git the back-woodsiness out on 
her, and now are you goin’ to spile it all ? 
“Besides, there nint. no occasion for her 
to git humsick. liftin'11 made her a great 
rag-baby most as big as herself? and don’t I 
give her all the broken cups and sarcers, and 
let her have a corner of the wood-house 
chamber to keep her traps in? and don’t 
she visit Mollt Sykes, or have her up here 
every Saturday afternoon ? Talk of her be¬ 
ing humsick!’’ 
So this deep-laid plot failed. My grand¬ 
father scratched his head, and plunged into 
new devices. It happened just then that our 
next neighbors, Deacon and Mrs. Kellogg, 
feeling themselves well stricken in yearn, re¬ 
solved to make a valedictory visit to their 
children, settled in the “ far West” of Ohio, 
having borrowed and studied the parson's 
new Atlas for a week, made his will, and 
settled all his worldly affairs, the time for 
the deacon’s departure was at hand. 
The night before this solemn event there 
was a meeting of all the neighbors to bid 
them farewell, and implore God’s favorable 
intervention for their safe return. This 
PITHY AND TRUE. 
This, from the Elmira Advertiser, we 
commend to the careful consideration of a 
very few specimens of humanity who are 
men only as they wear a man’s form—if 
there be any such who read the Rural : 
“ About the most ungracious tiling a news¬ 
paper publisher ever has to do is to adver¬ 
tise for pay, and as a matter of business, the 
fact that some man's wife has left his bed 
and board without due cause or provoca¬ 
tion. We never see such a customer darken 
our doors without wanting to kick him into 
the street. We don’t believe in the doctrine. 
We don’t believe that any woman ever quit 
a good home without cause or provocation. 
But we do believe that tliousamls of women 
adhere to a bad home, where half the cause 
or provocation would drive an average man 
to perdition. And the man who, trader any 
circumstances, can advertise his wife as he 
would a horse or a dog, to say tire least, 
don’t deserve a wife, and the fact itself is 
proof conclusive that she ought to run away.” 
TOBACCO 
Dr. Willard Parker says that those 
who are much addicted to the use of tobacco, 
or who work in the manufacture of snuff or 
cigars, never recover soon or healthily from 
injury or fever. The Emperor Napoleon had 
his attention called in 1863 to the effect of 
tobacco on the mind, by a report which 
showed that the cases of paralysis and in¬ 
sanity had increased quite regularly with 
the increase of the revenue from the tobacco 
tax. This led him to order an examination 
of the effect of tobacco on the student in 
schools and colleges. It w’as found that 
those who did not use tobacco were stronger, 
better scholars, and had a higher moral re¬ 
cord, than those tvho used it. The result 
was that an edict was issued forbidding its 
use in the national institutions. 
It is easy to “ know thyself,” but who is 
to introduce you ? Most people go through 
life without making the advantageous ac¬ 
quaintance in question; and if a friend 
should take the liberty of introducing you 
to yourself, you hate him forever. 
---- 
The luckiest man is he who makes his 
luck by careful forethought. 
