W HAT an old-fashioned, clumsy, rusty pair of scles they were! And ho many queer things were weighed up on them in that dingy little country store! If they could have talked, they might have told you the likings of every family in the village; for they were in the habit of giving people just what they called for. And the weights were so familiar with the duty expected of them, that each prepared to skip into the scales when his particular customer entered the door, from the brass thimble that clicked impatiently to weigh out Miss Tibb's cent's worth of F. to the great hollow projectil that Cousin Jack Sunt home from the war, and was used for the heavier commodities, such as flour, sugar, shot, and nails. The set of weights had been complete once; but they had |