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"That's nothing to what me and my Felix Joshua did, day before yesterday," said the deacon. "You know my bottom field there? Well, they come in it so thick you couldn't see the ground. went down to scare 'em out, and peradventure they riz up like a cloud, you couldn't see the sky for 'em. I hollered and slapped my hands and tore around till I was plum worried out, but it did no good. They just swarmed around over my head; and as fast as I went to one side of the field they began to pour down on tother.. Felix Joshua had just got up to the crib with a load of corn, for he was a gatherin' the ridge field, and I went to where he was and told him to go to the house and get his shot-gun and my shot-gun and we goes down. He slipt along on one side of the field and I slipt along on tother, till we got about middle ways, and then I gin a holler, and up they flew like whirlagust. I blazed away in the thickest of 'em, and Felix Joshua blazed away in the thickest of 'em, and what do you think? They were all gone in a second. Then me and Felix Joshua, we clem over the fence, and says he to me, 'Father, this beats all creation!' Says I to him, 'Go fetch the steers and wagon,' and upon my word and honor, we picked up ten bushels !"

The good brothers stared wildly around them, and would probably have accused their deacon of lying had they not been interrupted by the arrival of the preacher, and the announcement that "meetin' was a-goin' to begin."

After the services were over, little groups of the faithful might have been seen here and there, engaged in earnest conversation. Their subject was an exciting one, as you might have inferred from the length of their faces and the earnestness of their gestures. If you had listened to their conversation, you might have heard something about as follows:

"Did you hear what Brother Thrope said 'bout him and his Felix Joshua killin' ten bushels of pigeons at one shot?"

"Yes, it's orful, aint it?''

"It's a lie as sure as shootin'. I don't know what got into Brother Thrope."

"What'll be done about it? It mustn't go so it'll ruin the name of the church." "We'd better fetch it up next meetin', and make him take it back, or church him."

And so it would go on. Of course the good deacon heard whispers of it, which gave him no little uneasiness. However, he had been into several scrapes before, and had come out clear, and he doubted not he should meet with the same good luck on this occasion. Until the meeting day arrived, the entire settlement was in an uproar. Nothing was talked of but Deacon Thrope's ten bushels of pigeons The good brothers said it was too bad to have the church disgraced by a deacon who told such unreasonable tales, while the sisters wiped their spectacles, sighed, and said, "It is hard telling the power which the evil one exerteth."

At last the exciting day arrived. The preacher stated that the church was ready for the transaction of business, whereupon brother Fingle arose and said:

"Brother Deacon Thrope says him and his Felix Joshua killed ten bushels of pigeons at one shot. The church don't believe it, and would love to hear what the brother has to say for himself."

With much solemnity the deacon arose, and after casting a serious look over the congregation, and elevating his eyes to the rafters a few times, spoke as follows:

"Brethren, there is a sad mistake outI didn't say we killed ten bushels at one shot, but--"

"What did you say?" interrupted one of the brothers, who was present when the deacon first told about his pigeons. "Didn't you say you and your Felix Joshua both blazed away?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you say you both clem over the fence ?"

"Yes, peradventure."

"Didn't you say that Felix Joshua said 'Father, this beats all creation?" " "I did, brother."

"Didn't you say that Felix Joshua fetched the steers and wagon, and you picked up ten bushels of pigeons?"

"There is the mistake, my brother," replied the deacon, again raising his eyes toward the rafters. "I didn't say we picked up ten bushels of pigeons. Brother Fingle is mistaken; I said "

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"Yes, I know what you said!" interrupted several; you did say it, and we can prove it easy enough? You can't come that game over us, old hoss-fly."

"Order, brethren," said the minister;

"let's hear Brother Thrope's story, and then you can make any remarks you may wish." "Well, as I was sayin'," resumed the deacon, "I didn't say we picked up ten bushels of pigeons-Brother Fingle is mistaken-I said we picked up ten bushels of corn that the pigeons had shattered off."

"Amen," went up from the congregation, and a rush was made at Deacon Thrope to shake him by the hand. It is needless to say that he was restored to full fellowship and confidence.

Madame de St. Herem was the most singular creature in the world, not only in face but in manners. She half boiled her thigh one day in the Seine, near Fontainbleau, where she was bathing. The river was too cold; she wished to warm it, and had a quantity of water heated and thrown into the stream just above her. The water, reaching her before it could grow cold, scalded her so much that she was forced to keep her bed. When it thundered she used to squat herself under a couch, and make all her servants lie above, one upon the other, so that if the thunderbolt fell it might have its effect upon them before penetrating to her. Of course she ruined her husband.

A recent trial at Preston, Lancashire, England, leaves us in doubt whether to admire most the wisdom of the jury or that of the presiding magistrates. Two men were charged with stealing a hen. How two men could possibly be employed in such a raid, might afford matter for amusing speculation. One of the prisoners called two witnesses to speak to his character; but, as neither of them happened to know him, although one of them could testify to the respectibility of his father, this evidence did not go very far. The prosecutor himself volunteered to speak for the other, of whom, until the transaction concerning the hen, he knew nothing bad, except his having been in jail two or three times. The jury, after retiring to consider their verdict, found the prisoners both guilty. "Of what?" asked the clerk. "Of what they are charged with," replied the foreman; "and we recommend them to mercy, because the evidence is not strong." Another juryman explained, "Because the evidence is not sufficient to convict them." After this clear expression

of opinion on the part of the jury that the evidence was insufficient, the magistrates did what might have been expected from rural justices-they sentenced the prisoners, one to a month's imprisonment and the other to three.

A miser living in Kufa had heard that in Bassora also there dwelt a miser more miserly than himself, to whom he might go to school, and from whom he might learn much. He forthwith journeyed thither and presented himself to the great master as a humble commencer in the art of avarice, anxious to learn, and under him to become a student.

"Welcome!" said the miser of Bassora: "We will go to the market to make some purchases."

They went to the baker. "Hast thou good bread?"

"Good, indeed, my masters, and fresh and soft as butter."

"Mark this, friend," said the man of Bassora to the one of Kufa; "butter is compared with bread as being the better of the two; as we can only consume a small quantity of that, it will also be cheaper, and we shall, therefore, act more wisely and savingly, too, in being satisfied with butter."

They then went to the butter-merchant, and asked if he had good butter.

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Good, indeed, and flavory and fresh as the finest olive oil," was the answer.

"Mark this, also," said the host to his guest oil is compared with the best butter, and, therefore, by much ought to be preferred to the latter."

They next went to the oil-vender. "Have you good oil?"

"The very best quality: white and transparent as water," was the reply.

"Mark that, too," said the miser of Bassora to the one of Kufa: "by this rule water is the very best. Now, at home I have a pailful, and most hospitably therewith will I entertain you."

And, indeed, on their return nothing but water did he place before his guest, because they had learned that water was better than oil, oil better than butter, butter better than bread.

"God be praised," said the miser of Kufa, "I have not journeyed this long dis tance in vain !”