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demoralize him. Practically each determined to file " motion to quash" the cat's attachment for that room.

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Each kept his plan to himself, and in the dark, unable to see each other, prepared for action.

Strange as it may appear, it is nevertheless true, that the same plan suggested itself to both. In words, the plan would be about as follows:

The yowler is evidently looking and calling for another cat, with whom he has made an appointment. I will imitate a cat, and this cat will think t' other cat's around. This cat will come toward me, and when he shall have arrived within reach, I'll blaze away with anything I can get hold of, and knock the mew-sic out of him.

So each of the portly judges, noiselessly as cream comes to the surface of the milk, hoisted himself onto his hands and and hippopotamus fashion advanced to the neutral ground occupying the central portion of the room.

Arriving there Judge Clark selected a boot-jack, and Judge Thomas a heavy cow hide boot from the heap, and settled hemselves down to the work.

Clark tightened his grip on the boot-jack, and throwing up his head, gave vent to a prolonged and unearthly “yeOW-OW that would have reflected credit upon ten of the argest kind of cats.

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Aha," thought Thomas, who was not six feet away, "he's immediately close around. Now I'll inveigle him!" and he gave the regular dark-night call of a feminine cat.

Each of the judges advanced a little closer, and Clark produced a questioning "Ow-ow!"

Thomas answered by a reassuring "purow-purow!" and they advanced a little more.

They were now within easy reach, and each imagining the cat had but a moment more to live, whaled away, the one with his boot, the other with his boot-jack.

The boot took Clark square in the mouth, demolishing his teeth, and the boot-jack came down on Thomas' head just as he was in the midst of a triumphant “ye-ow!”

When the lights were brought the cat had disappeared, but the catastrophe was in the opposite corners of the room, with heels in the air, swearing blue streaks.

DDD

WHAT IS THAT TO THEE?-THOMAS D. JAMES,

When I am called to die,

To yield my spirit to His sacred keeping,
To rest my body in the long, long sleeping,
I fain would not belie

My trust in Him who doeth all things well,
Whose will alone my every wish should quell.

I would not vainly choose

What road shall lead me up the holy mountain,
What path conduct me to the crystal fountain;
Nor willing be to lose

The guidance of the hand that e'er has led
In ways I knew not, but with mercies spread.
If gentle be the call,

If faint and feeble be the distant warning,
Like dimmest daystreak of the early morning,
Tipping the pine trees tall,

And brighter growing, till the red east shines
With fullest glory on the glowing pines.

How grateful should I feel!

That I might still behold my loved ones longer,
Might tarry till my timid faith grew stronger,
Might linger to reveal

The loves that buoyant life can ne'er unveil,
Like odors evening only can exhale.

If sudden be the stroke,

If all unheralded His solemn coming,

Like flash, fast followed by the thunder's booming
That scales the skyward oak,

While pale with fear we hold our bated breath,
In awe of the swift messenger of death,-

How blest the favored lot!

A lot to few departing spirits given—
Painless to pass from earth and sin to Heaven.
Oh! surely it were not

Departure we should dread, at once to rise
On whirlwind pinions to the opening skies.

So I repose my trust;

And whether speedy messenger obeying,
Or waiting patiently my Lord's delaying
To summon me to rest,

On his dear love my willing trust would dwell;
He knoweth best; He deeth all things well.

HANNAH BINDING SHOES-LUCY LARCOM.

Poor lone Hannah,

Sitting at the window, binding shoes!
Faded, wrinkled,

Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse.
Bright-eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree;-
Spring and winter,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Not a neighbor
Passing, nod or answer will refuse
To her whisper,

"Is there from the fishers any news?"
Oh, her heart's adrift with one
On an endless voyage gone;—
Night and morning,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Fair young Hannah,

Ben the sunburnt fisher, gaily woos;
Hale and clever,

For a willing heart and hand he sues.
May-day skies are all aglow,

And the waves are laughing so!
For her wedding

Hannah leaves her window and her shoes,

May is passing;

"Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon coos;
Hannah shudders,

For the mild south-wester mischief brews.
Round the rocks of Marblehead,
Outward bound a schooner sped;

Silent, lonesome,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

'Tis November:

Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews,
From New Foundland

Not a sail returning will she lose,
Whispering hoarsely; "Fishermen,
Have you, have you heard of Ben?"
Old with watching,

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

Twenty winters

Bleak and drear the ragged shore she views,
Twenty seasons!

Never one has brought her any news.
Still her dim eyes silently

Chase the white sails o'er the sea;-
Hopeless, faithful

Hannah's at the window, binding shoes.

APPEAL OF THE MISSAGANS.

The following "Appeal of the Missagans' was sent by their Chief to the white people of Canada, to stay the plague of intemperance among the tribes.

Five villages are all that remain of the mighty Missagan tribe of Indians. Save us, our white brothers, from destruction! Long ago you came to us and asked for a place to build your wigwam. We gave you a country; was it not worth giving? We now ask you to deliver us from an enemy which we cannot conquer alone; like everything else of the white man, it is too strong for us. We love our homes, and we fight this enemy; but our tribe is thinner and weaker every day. My white brothers, could the souls of the dead Chippewas and Mohawks, killed by fire-water, come from the Land of Shade, and camp by the door of the whiskey trader, from the City of Rock, to the head-waters of Big Lake, town and village would be crowded by the pale outcasts―red no more, scorched pale by the blue flame! Warriors no more, the totems of their fathers lost. The track of a canoe can not be seen upon the waters, nor the trail of an eagle in the clouds; so dies the poor drunken Indian! His canoe shoots down the stream, struck by the poison the white man brought; his spirit flies into a dark cloud--he is gone! Who cares? In a few winters so will our race pass away. Scattered, weak, hopeless! Who cares? Give us back our woods and the deer! Give us back our bark wig. wams and our fathers' virtue! Save us, our white brothers,

save us! A dying race implores you! Put out the blus flame that is consuming us.

WOMAN'S RIGHTS BY MISS TABITHA PRIMROSE

My hearers-male and female-Squenchin' my native modesty, which is nateral to all uv the weaker vessels uv whom I am which, I feel impelled to speak to yoo this evenin' on the subjeck uv woman-her origin, her mission, her destiny-a subjeck, bein' ez I am a woman myself, I hev given much attention to.

Man, my hearers, claims to be the sooperior uv woman! Is it so? and ef so, in what, and how much? Wuz he the fust creation? He wuz, my hearers; but what does that prove? Man wuz made fust, but the experience gained in makin' man wuz applied to the makin uv a betterer and more finerer bein', uv whom I am a sample. Nacher made man, but saw in a breef space uv time that he coodent take care uv hisself alone, and so he made a woman to take care uv him, and that's why we wuz created, though seein' all the trouble we hev I don't doubt that it would hev been money in our pockets ef we hedn't been made at all.

Imagine, my antiquated sisters, Adam afore Eve wuz made! Who sewed on his shirt buttons? Who cooked his beefsteak? Who made his coffee in the mornin', and did his washin'? He wuz mizable, he wuz-he must hev boarded out and eat hash! But when Eve come the scene changed. Her gentle hand soothed his akin brow when he come in from a hard day's work. She hed his house in order. She hed his slippers and dressin'-gown ready, and after tea he smoked his meerschaum in peace.

Men, cruel, hard, hard-hearted men, assert that Eve wuz the cause uv his expulsion from Eden-that she plucked the apple and give him half, oh, my sisters, is true! it's too true, but what uv it? It proves, fustly, her goodness. Hed Adam plucked the apple, ef it hed bin a good one, he'd never thought uv his wife at home, but would hev gobbled it all. Eve, angel that we all are, thought uv him, and went havers with him. Secondly, it wuz the means uv good, anyhow. It introdoost death into the world, which separated 'em while they still hed love for each other. I appeal to the sterner sex present to-night. Would you, oh would you desire for

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