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T.U. G. MiiDLOCK’.' ETHRO lltUXE. B, L. RODGERS.
3Sy Arlinc & £S«dgers.
Tiie Herald is published in Sandersville
ji., every Friday inorning. Subscription
price TWO DOLLARS per annum.
Advertisements inserted at the usual rates.
No charge for publishing marriages or
deaths.
POETRY.
liSTTUB FEET.
In castle halls, or cottage home.
Wherever guileless childhood "roams,
Oh, there is nothing half so sweet
As busy tread of little feet.
The sighing breeze, the ocean’s roar,
The purling rill, the organ’s power,
All stir the. soul, hut none so deep
As tiny tread of little feet
AVhcn forth we go at early morn,
To meet the world and brave its scorn,
Adown the garden walk so neat,
Wo see the print of little feet.
At eve, when homeward we repair,
With aching limbs and brow of care,
The voice ring out clear and sweet—
Then comes the rush of little feet.
The knives are lost, the dishes stray,
The tools are spirited away,
And when we go the lost to seek,
We take the trail of little feet,
But when the angel Death hath come
And called the llow’rets from our home,
Oppressive silence reigns complete;
We miss the sound of little feet.
Then tools are safe, no dishes stray,
Xo doors go slamming all the day;
But O, ’twould give us pleasure sweet
To hear again those noisy feet.
Soft night hath come; all are asleep;
Yes, all but me. I vigil keep.
Hush ! hush ! my heart and case to beat;
Was that the step of my little feet?
Yes, mother, ’tis the softened tread
Of him you miss and mourn as dead,
And often, in your sweetest sleep,
You’ll dream of hearing little feet.
And when this pilgrimage is o’er,
And you approach the shining shore,
The first to run your soul to greet,
Will be vour darling’s little feet.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
AN ENGINEER’S STORY.
BY CLARA AUGUSTA.
EiYe years ago, I was a locomotive
engineer on the Great Northern Rail
way. A love of adventure first led
me to accept the hazardous service,
and afterward I grew to like it, as it
were, a part of the business to which
we devote our best energies.
I was but twenty-four then—a lit
tle reckless, knowing nothing of fear,
and known all over the line as “Dare-
Devil Charlie Lynnwood.”
I had no relatives in the world,
save an old aunt in a far-off country
town, to whom I sometimes made a
Christmas present, and to whose
rambling old country house I went
Thanksgiving days, when the boys
did not feel able to afford the ex
pense of a dinner at the Globe Ho
tel.
Pretty girls I knew nothing about.
I had no attachment, as most young
fellows of my age have. I used to
say, laughingly, that if I had any
particular passion for anything, it
was for Sultan, that grand old steam-
engine, with which I could easily run
a mile inside of a minute.
One dark Saturday night, a little
past niue, I had brought the tram in
to the Northern terminus, when I
saw the agent at the road hastening
towards me, with a strange gentle
man in company.
“Charlie,” said the agent, “this is
Mr. Barlowe, of the firm of Barlowe
& Brothers, bankers, of L. He is
in great haste to reach there to-night.
There is no train down until Monday
morning. Do you think you could
take Sultan, and manage to get him
to L. by eleven, or a little after ?”
“Yes, sir, if you take the respon
sibility.”
“Of course; we take all that.
Whatever injury is done to the loco
motive will be made good by Mr.
Barlowe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is the fireman ? Whistle
him up at once.”
“He has gone home, sir. His wife
is sick, and I let him off from his du
ty to-night. I think I can do alone,
it this gentleman is not above lend
ing a helping hand.”
“Certainly not. Command me,
replied Mr. Barlowe, frankly, at the
same time climbing into the narrow
space appropriated to the fireman.
1 got into my place—the fire was
still glowing red hot—threw in a cou
ple (of armfuls of dry wood, and
■ ton the steam guage indicated suf-
i’ at pressure to warrant our star-
"the best speed you can
with salt tv, Charlie. Good night,
mid a pleasant journey to you,” cried
the ag«nt after us, as we whizzed out
°i the station.
The night was dark and starless.
There were thick clouds hanging
overhead, and a sort of ominous calm
over everything. The month ivas
August, and we had every reason to
oxpeet a furious tempest before we
reached our destination, if Ave did
not run from under the clouds in to a
clearer atmosphere. A heavy rain
would not affect our speed, but a
strong west wind might considerably
diminish it, and to make up for the
apprehended contingency, I gave
Sultan full rein, and we dashed
ahead like an arrow.
My companion took a sort of tri
umphant pride in our speed.
“By George! this is exhilarating!”
cried he, holding on his hat with one
hand, and piling in the Avood Avith the
other. “Jove’s Avinged bird could
not toss off the miles like this fiery
monster. Doesn’t it ever seem to
you that a power like this must have
something of life itself, latent about
it, and behind all this iron intelli
gence ?”
“Almost that, sir.”
I looked at the guage. We were
under fearful pressure of steam. No
locomotive on the line could have
borne it, save the Sultan. The red
hot air streamed into ray face like
the breath of a lived coal; the fur
nace glowed blood purple Avith heat;
the valves of the pipes were almost
sprung open by the imprisoned force
beneath.
I pulled the whistle, relieving the
labored snorting of the boiler, and
just then Ave fleAv past Hazleton Sta
tion. I looked at my Avatch. We
had made the first forty miles of our
journey, and it still lacked ten min
utes of ten.
“We are doing well, sir.” I remark
ed to my companion. “I think we
shall reach L. some time before elev-
“God grant it! Young man, there
are momentous matters depending
on my being there in season. We
business speculators in money are
not always the easiest minded men
in the world. We are, in a great
measure, the slaves of fortune.”
“Well, your shackles are golden
ones, at least. Ha! that Avas Edgar-
ton Corner. Only thirty miles re
main, sir.”
.The great reflector on the front of
the Sultan was glowing brightly—a
steady, intelligent eye of fire- —and
illumined the track for a full mile
ahead, casting grotesque shadows of
the trees across our path, and mag
nifying every insignificant shrub in
to a black giant, beckoning us on to
our doom. All around, not pierced
by the light, lay in a dense, palpable
shadow.
We were approaching Sandy Riv
er—always considered rather a dan
gerous piece of road. It Avas a high
nU, for full Iavo miles, crossing mow,
boggy tract of land, through Avhicli
ran a sluggish, treacherous stream,
spanned by a single stone arch. This
culvert Avas not very high—the vol
ume of water seldom rose so rapidly
as many streams do-but it was broad
and above it there Avas a covering of
gravel, ten or twelve feet deep.
I had often scanned the culvert
Avhen I had gone past, and thought
how the displacemen of a single stone
in that arch would doom a passing
train to destruction, for theriver Avas
fathoms deep at that place, Avith a
muddy, miry bottom.
Wo Avere getting near the com
mencement of the “fill.” I could tell
by the quivering of the engine as it
struck the unsteady foundation. The
road there always shook under the
weight of a train. I checked the
speed a trifle, but Mr. Barlowe re
monstrated. He said there could be
no danger; he would risk it; and
AA'hat he dared to risk, I Avould not
shrink from.
I glanced out of the front window.
The light shed a steady glare far
ahead over the straight track. Good
Heaven! what did I see ?
I strained my eyes so intensely
that for a moment almost total blind
ness came upon me ; then I made it
out clearly. Far in the distance,
just over the culvert, a flaming torch
was waving on high, as it" to warn
us back, aud beneath it, faintly out
lined against the dark background,
was the figure—yes, the figure of a
Avoman, clad in some lightcolored
garments.
I flew to the valves, shut off and
reversed the steam, flung open the
door of the furnace, and opened the
throttle-pipe.
But our career Avas not checked.
The tremendous momentum we had
acquired—and Ave wererunidng oua
down grade, too—hurled us on.
Another second, and Ave should be
there— no human power could arrest
our speed! •
I could see the face of that wo
man, Avho was perilling her life in a
vain effort, distinctly noAv. It ayus-
white as death, and stamped all over
with a lofty courage. The signal
light Avas waved frantically ; her pale
lips Avere forming themselves into a
cry. I shut my eyes. Instant an
nihilation I ‘expected, but I could not
bear to go open-eyed—to see that
noble Avoman beat into the dust be
fore the hoofs of this relentless mon
ster.
Barlowe dimly comprehended it.
I heard him mutter, “All is lost!”
and simultaneously we plunged on to
the culvert. The Sultan shook in
every iron sineAV, snorted defiantly,
leaped upward, as it were, from the
swaying, sinking track and shot
ahead. We were saved ! Buo the
solid ground failed behind us ; there
was a rumbling roar rising high
aboA-e the clatter and strain of the
machinery, a crash like the rending
of granite rocks, and through the
murky air, I saAv the Avhite dust ris
ing slowly upward from the sunken
embankment, and heard the dull,
choked gurgle of the river, as it roll
ed over something it Avould soon
SAvallow up.
And then we came to a dead halt.
I seized the lantern. BarloAve laid
his hand on my arm, as he/said :
“A moment’s delay may be fatal.
Go on ; we haA'e no time to return.
You may save me from ruin if you
keep on!”
“Not to save you from the devil!”
I cried, springing out.
A Avhole year of suspense was
crowded into those few brief mo
ments oi search before I found her. j
Indeed, I hardly dared to think I :
should find her; but thank Heaven! !
I did.
She Avas lying, white and still, on
the extreme verge of the chasm, one
hand still grasping the broken lan
tern with which she had tried to ap
prise us of danger. I sought for the
other baud. It lay crushed to a
shapeless mass beneath a huge stc5ne.
I seemed to have the strength of
a dozen men. I flung away the
great stone with scarcely an effort,
and lifted her up from her perilous
position.
Her eyes flew open. The pain of |
moving her brought back her con- !
sciousness.
“Were they killed?” she asked, j
anxiously.
“No ; avg are saA*ed. But you suf
fer.”
“Only a broken bone, I think.” |
“Can.you sit up?”
“Oh, yes; it is "only my arm. I
shall do Avell enough.”
A sudden idea had flashed through
mv brain. I spoke it out.
“You must have surgical aid. Un- j
fortunately, I am engaged to carry i
this gentleman to L., before eleven
o’clock. I cannot leave him, neither ;
can I think of leaving j-ou. I must j
take you along, and get aid of a i
physician there.”
There was no false modesty about j
this girl. She gave me a close !
scrutiny; her countenance said she j
Avas not afraid to trust me.
“Very Avell,” she said; do as you {
think best, I cannot cross the river to ;
mv home to-night, unless I Avalk back J
ci/iuvenun; anuuiav z coiuu not CIO. |
I think I must go on Avith you.”
I lifted her into my seat in the en
gine box, and took off my coat to
Avmp round her.
And then avg Avere off. During the
rapid transit, she said but little,
though from it I gathered all that I
wished, to know. Her jnarae was
Annie Greyleigh, and she Avas an op-
erative in the factory at Riverton,
two miles from Sandy River. She
made her home Avith a distant cous
in, Avho resided just across the river,
and Avas accustomed to go there ca t -
ery Saturday night to spend the Sab
bath. She usually took the railroad
track, because it lessened the dis
tance. On that night, she had been
detained in the mill longer than com
mon and Avlien she reached the cul
vert found to her dismay that the
track had sunken some feet. The
continual friction of the water had
worked some of the masonry loose,
and the jar of a train must destroy
the entire fabric.
Tired as she was, and late as Avas
the hour, she felt the necessity of re
turning to Riverton, and notifying
the station officer of the condition of
the road. But just as she had turn
ed for the puspose, she beard the
Avliistle of our engine at the Maple-
dell depot. And she had remained
Avhere she Avas, hoping to be able to
arrest our speed in season to pre
vent us from crossing over the dang
erous place.
If Ave had been running at an or
dinary rate, her object would have
been accomplished ; but Providence
had seen fit to save us by nothing
short of a miracle. So it was Avell,
she said.
We reached L., fifteen minutes be-
fose eleven. Mr. Barlowe leaped off,
and Avithout the ceremony of a
“good-night” made himself scarce.
I gave the Sultan into the hands of
my friend Dick Tilton, and got one
of the railroad hands to take Miss
Greyleigh to a hotel.
A surgeon ay as called. He pro
nounced her injury serious—a com
pound fracture of the Avrist, besides
a bad laceration of the muscles. A
nurse Avas procured, the bone set,
and left her with the attendant.
I did not close my eA'es that night;
I was too busy thinking of the sweet
pale face of Annie Greyleigh. It
was the first time a woman had eA-er
kept me awake.
I saw her the next day, and the
next; for I remained at L., to take
charge of the train Avliich was run
up to Sandy River, to meet the
northern train that came doAvn on
the other end of the road, and trans
ported the passengers across in
boats, until the breach could be re
paired.
I notified Annie’s relative oi the
accident,. and a week afterwards
took the invalid home, myself, in
a carriage.
The middle of September, I re
ceived a packet superscribed with my
name in an unknown chirography.
The contents sufficiently explained
themselves, though:
Mr. Lynnwood:—By getting me
to L., in season that 20th night of
August, you saved nit the sum of
seventy-five thousand dollars, which
a fraudulent agent was about walk
ing off with. Please accept the ac
companying trifle as a token of my
respect and gratitude. Yours,
B! Barlowe.
The “accompanying trifle” was Mr.
Barlowe’s check for five thousand
dollars. Mj r pay made me indepen
dent; but I knew he could afford it,
so I accepted the windfall and was
duly grateful.
I called several times to see Annie
Greyleigh. She always met me Avith
a blush, that told me better than words
that the sight of my bronzed face was
not unpleasant to her. She conval
esced very slowly. She would never
be able to do hard work any more.
At Christmas, I went to see her.
She Avas looking sad and downcast,
The prospect before her was not a
cheering one.
I took up her wounded hand.
“What do you intend to do with
this, Annie?” I asked.
She smiled sadly. ,
“I do not know. It is useless
noAv. I am so afraid that I shall be
unable to get my living—-”
She stopped abruptly. Some
thing she saAY in my face made her
hesitate.
“Give it to me, Annie. Give me
the right to deA'ote both my strong
| The Bog and the Shilling.
A gentleman who had a splendid 1
NeAvfoundland dog was riding with j
a friend one day, when the dog be- J
came the subject of conversation.
Having praised the qualities of his
favorite very highly, the owner as
sured his companion that Nero would
upon receiving the order, return and
fetch any article he should leave be
hind, from any distance. To con
firm this, a marked shilling was first
shown to the dog, and then put under
a large square stone by the side of
the road. The gentlemen then rode
for three miles, when the dog receiv
ed the signal from his master to re
turn for the shilling he had seen put
under the stone. The dog turned
back, the gentlemen rode on, and
reached home; but to their great sur
prise the hitherto faithful messen
ger did not return during the day.
It afterwards appeared that he had
gone to the stene under which the
shilling was placed, but it being too
large for his strength to remove, he
had staid hoA\ r ling at the place till
Iavo gentlemen on horseback, hear
ing the noise made by the dog, stop
ped to look at him, A\*hen one of them
alighting, removed the stone, and see
ing the shilling, put it into his pock
et, not at the time thinking it to be
the object of the dog’s search. The
dog followed’their horses for twenty
miles, remained quietly in the room
Avhere they supped, followed the
maid into the bedchamber, and hid
himself under one of the beds. The
possessor of the shilling hung his
breeches upon a nail by the bedside;
but Avheu the travelers were both
asleep, the dog took the breeches in
his mouth, and leaping out of the j
hands to you, henceforth, for I love | AvindoAv, which Avas left open on ac-
Y°'V- greyleigh—love you, my j count of the heat, reached the house
darling!”
“But I am poor and crippled—”
“No more! I want you as you
are. You more than satisfy every
requirement.”
I made her mine that very month;
and afterward, at her desire, I gave
up my situation on the engine, and
devoted myself to mercantile pur
suits.
But I am not likely to forget that
ride over Sandy River Bridge.
> > O ■*—<
From the last report of Superin
tendent Rogers, of the Central rail-
that road and its branches transport
ed to Savannah 439,8*26 bales of cot
ton, of which number 387,082 bales
were through, and 52,744 Avay-an in
crease of 47,022 bales OA’er the twelve
previous months. Of guano there
were 94,358,025 pounds, against G0,-
310,653 pounds the year before. The
total number of through passengers
transported up the road, Avas 7,196;
down, 8,250; Avaypassengers up, 58,-
496; down 63.462, making a grand to
tal of 131,404, against 169,119 for the
same period last year.
v
The way to the poor-house.—
John Reeve Avas once accosted in
the Kensington road by an elderly
man who carried a bottle of gin- in
his hand.
“Pray, sir, I beg pardon,” “is this
the way to the poor-house ?”
. John gave him a look of clerical
dignity, and pointing to the bottle,
said:
“No, sir; but that is.”
A Detroit negro prisoner, on his
Avay to the penitentiary for larceny,
was asked Avhat he thought of his
trial. He said : “ When de lawyer
dat ’feuded me made his speech, I
made sure dat I was going to take
my ole hat and walk right out of dat
co’t room ; but when the odder law
yer got up and commenced talking,
I kneAv I Avas the biggest rascal on
top of de earf.”
Making Mistakes.—Prof. Liebig
used to say:—“Show me the man
who makes no mistakes, and I will
prove to you that he does nothing.”
It is easy enough for a scientific man
Avho publishes nothing, but only criti
cise others, to escape the charge of
committing errors, and for such per
sons Liebig entertained a wholesome
contempt.
» t # 4-4
To prevent horses from rubbing
the hair off their main and tail, take
half a tea-cupful of sharp cider vine
gar, pour on the spot Avhere the rub-
bing is done, and card it while pour
ing on, and it Avill be found that this (
simple thing will stop rubbing down
fences, or spoiling the looks of the
tail in the stable.
“Have you Blasted Hopes ?” ask
ed a young lady of a librarian v with
his handkerchief tied over his jaw.
“No ma’am,” said he, “its only a
blasted toothache.”
Little disputes before marriage are
great ones after it; as northerly winds
which are warm in summer, blow
keen and cold in winter.
As length of life is denied us, we
should at least do something to show
that we have lived.—Cicero.
Act well your part, be your sta
tion high or lowly.
of his master at four o’clock in the
morning Avith his prize, in the pock
et of which was found, besides the
shilling, a Avatch and money, which*,
upon being advertised, were returned
to the OAA’ner, Avhen the Avhole mys
tery Avas explained, to the admiration
of all parties.
Kow does Food Nourish us!
Taking alittents into the stomach
is only a preliminary process. There
it is mixed Avith a peculiar fluid which
oozes from the inner walls of that
organ, Avhich is a powerful solvent.
Mm fat nrvacAtahlfta are auickly melt
ed ilnwn, m a~
always appearing within about an
hour as a grayish, pultaceous mass.
Next, it passes from the stomach (on
the right side, just under the ribs)
into a membranous tube, which is
thickly studded with glands, each
pouring out a fluid peculiar to itself,
to combine with the onward moving
ingesta. At the distance of tAvelve
on the route, bile from file liver is
added; and then a bland secretion
from the pancreas, or sweetbread,
Avhicli alone, of all others in the sys
tem, dissolves butter, oils, and lard,
converting them into an emulsion.
Millions of tubes, smaller than hairs,
open within the tube, sucking up a
milky fluid (chyle,) the product of
the food and the admixtures since it
arrived at the stomach. Then it is
conveyed by the distal extremities of
the lymphatics (the small tubes above
mentioned) into a tube the size of
wheat straw. Once in there, it as
cends up the whole length of the
abdomen through the chest direct.
Thence, mixing Avith impure venous
blood, it goes to the right chamber of
the heart, and thence is sent into
the lungs. By drawing in a breath,
the oxygen in the air is united to
the new fluid and the returned old
blood; it revivifies one and A’italizes
the other. From the food, the solid
parts of the body are not only made,
but kept in repair.—Scientific Amer
ican.
A man who had recently been elect
ed a major of militia, and who was
not overburdened with brains, took
it into bis head on the morning of
parade, to exercise a little by himself
The field selected for this puipose
was his own apartment. Placing him
self in a military attitude, Avith his
sword drawn, he exclaimed: “Atten
tion, company! Rear rank, three pa
ces, march!” and he tumbled down
into the cellar. His wife hearing the
racket, came running in, saying, “My
dear, have you killed yourself?” “Go
about your business, Afornan,” said
the hero; “what do you know about
war?”
An Irish domestic, newly engaged,
presented to his master one morning
a pair of boots, the leg of one of
which was much longer than the
other. “Hoav comes it, you rascal,
that these boots are not of the same
length?” “I really don’t know, sir;
but what bothers me most is that
the pair down stairs are in the same
fix.”
He who lives with a good wife be
comes better thereby; as those who
lay down among violets arise with
the perfume upon their garments.
Stealing never makes a man rich,
alms never makes a man poor, and
prayer never hinders a man’s busi
ness.
W hat Becomes of the Sons of Snc-
, cessful lien l
Next to the inquiry: What be
comes of the pins? an interesting
question Avould be: What becomes
of the sons of successful men ? A
few men and a few firms are in the
bauds of the founders; but these are
exceptions. The old name and the
old trade generally pass into the
hands of others. “Do you see that
man shoveling in coal ? Well, his
children, and children like his, will
jostle your pampered sons and rule
this land,” said an old NeAv Yorker,"
- the other day. The old names have
ceased in the pulpit. The famed men
of the bar seldom have successors.
The eminent jurists carry their hon
ors Avith them to *the grave. Mer
chant princes are obliterated. The
reason is clear. Fathers laid the foun
dation of business one AA*ay and the
sons build another. Men Avho earned
their fortunes by hard Avorkand dili
gence, and Avho kneAv sixteen hours’
toil by personal attention, Avho were
then* own book-keepers, salesmen,
cashers, and often porters, are fol
lowed by sons who do as little as
possible; Avho delegate to others all
the work they can, and who know
more of the road than the ledger.
Famous hotel men Avere gentlemen,
of intelligence, men who were the
equals of the best in the land, and
never sunk the gentlemen in their
trade. Young men, avIlo fling the
example of their sires to the Avinds,
find it easier to squander a valuable
name, run through a fortune quicker
than it was earned, and find them
selves, Avhile young, at a point from
which their fathers started. One
thing is quite marked in New York.
It is the fact that the heavy business
getting into the hands of foreigners.
The heaA’y importers, the great bank
ers are foreigners, and much of the
trade of value is slipping out of the
hands of the Americans, as the trade
of England got into the power of
the Lombards.—New York Letter
to Boston Journal.
American Wonders.—The greatest
cataract in the Avorld is the Falls of
Niagara. The greatest caA*e in the
world is the Mammoth Cave of
Kentucky. The greatest river in
the world is the Mississippi, 4,100
miles . long. The largest valley
in the world is the valley of Miss-
Deaths Roaring in 1873.
The following distinguish Ameri
cans died doming the year 1873.—
John W. Geary, Fa., sometime gov
ernor of Kansas aud afterward of
Pennsylvania; Bishop McIllnaine,
of Iilinoisyjudge H. H. Leavitt, of
Cincinnati; W. W .McGuffy, the dis
tinguished educator and author of a
series of class books; Chief Justice
Salmon P. Chase; Oakes Ames, of
Credit Mobiiier notoriety; Rev. Dr.
Joel Parker, a prominent Presby
terian divine of New York; Rev. John
Atwood, of New Hampshire, nomi
nated by the Democrats for gover
nor in 1850, and thrown overboard,
for avo*\ving anti-slavery sentiments;
Daniel Pratt, a pioneer manufactur
er in Alabama; Horace F. Clark,
the great Railroad operator; Lewis
Tappan, memorable for his philan
thropy; Hiram Powers, the eminent
sculptor; Jesse R. Grant, father of
the President; Gen. A. R. Wright,
member of Congress from Georgia;
J. F. Wilson, M. C., of Oregon; B.
S. Storrs, Gardiner Spring, John
Tood and Solomon Howard, four dis
tinguished clergymen of over sixty
years’ service each; Gen. Edw. S.
McCook, killed in an affray at Yank
ton, Decotah; Silas Totten, D. D.,
an able clergyman of the Episcopal
Church; Lrwis Gaylord Clark, edi
tor of the old Knickerbocker Magazine:
John Early, senior Bishop of the M.
E. Church South; Laura Keene, the
noted actress, at whose playing the
late President Lincoln was present
when assassinated; Gen. W. J. Har
dee, a noted Confederate leader; Mrs.
R. E. Lee, widoAv of the celebrated
Confederate General; James H. Lu
cas, the richest man in St. Souis; ex-
Senator John P. Hale, of N. H; ex-
Senator Richard 1 t ates, of Illinois;
Bishop Armitage, Wisconsin; Louis
Agassiz, the great scientist; Samuel
Nelson, ex-Justice yf the Supreme
Court of the United States; Johns
Hopkins, the Baltimore philanthrop
ist.
How to Succeed—What constitutes
Success.
The young man who thinks he can
carry his boyish pranks into the se
rious business of life is not a man,
and defrauds himself and his employ
er. “After work, play.” That should
satisfy the most sanguine. “Bnsi-
woridis Lake Superior, which is truly j the prurient mau whose guide is ex-
an inland sea, being four hundred j perience, and it is sufficient for the
and thirty miles long and one thou- j novitiate in active life,
sand feet deep. The longest railroad i But it is despicable to see the
in the world is the Pacific Railroad, j young man just starting in life so
which is over three thousand miles wedded to his former enjoyments as
in length. The greatest natural bridge
in the world is the natural bridge
over Cedar Creek in Virginia. The
greatest mass of solid iron in the
world is the great iron moutain in
Missouri. The largest deposits of
anthracite coal in the world are in
Pennsylvania.
How to Marry.—When a young
woman behaves to her parents in a
manner particularly tender and re
spectful, from principle as well as
nature, there is nothing good and
gentle that may not be expected
from her, in whatever condition she
may be placed. Were I to advise a
friend as to his choice, of a wife, my
counsel would be, “Look out for one
distinguished by her attention and
sweetness to her parents.” The
fund of worth and affection indicated
by such behavior, joined to the hab
its of duty and consideration there
by contracted, being transferred to
the maixied state, will not fail to
render her a mild and obliging com
panion.
Curing Skins Without Removing
the Hair.—A correspondent sends
the following receipe for curing skins
without removing the hair. Take of
soft water, ten gallons; wheat bran,
one-half bushel; salt, seven pounds ;
sulphuric acid, two and a half pounds.
Dissolve all together and place the
skins in the solution, and allow them
to remain twelve hours; then re
move and clean them well, and again
immerse twelve hours, or longer if.
necessary. The skins may then be
taken out, well washed, and dried.
They can be beaten soft if desired. ; —
Journal of Chemistry .
Painting Rough BuiLDiNGs--Take-
two ounces of sal-ammoniac and two
ounces of potash, dissolve these in
to place them above present duties.
Yet this is often the case. The
young men, who, to steer his own
bark, launches forth on the sea of
life, too often looks back on the
pleasures he leaves behind, and, for
getful of present duties, steers back
to past enjoyments.
There is no royal road to success
any more than to knowledge. He
who would succeed must work; and
after all there is more real enjoyment
in work, which has a worthy object,
than play or pleasure, intended to
kill time. We remarked a few days
ago to a business man whose present
means are amply sufficient, but who
worked really harder than any of his
numerous employes, that he ought
to “take it easy.” Said he: “I am
never so happy as when I have more
than I can do. I may wear out in
working, but I dread to rust out in
idling.” He was right.. His work
was a part of himself, a part of his
life, and it was always faithfully done.
To apprentices especially, this ear
nestness and interest in their work
is necessary if success is-ever to be
attained.—Scientific American.
Speak no bad Words.—How is it
I don’t seem to hear you speak bad
words?” asked an “old salt” of a boy-
on board a man-of-war.
“O,’ cause I don’t forget my Cap
tain’s orders,” answered the boy,
brightly. _
“Captain’s orders !” cried the old
sailor. “I didn’t know he gave any*.”
“He did,” said Jem, “and I keep
’em safe here,” putting his hand on
his breast. “Here they be,” said
Jem, slowly and distinctly: “I say
unto you, Swear not at all; neither
by heaven, forit is God’s throne; nor
by the earth, for it is his footstool;
i neither by Jerusalem, for it is the
,, .- t i ni , | city -of the great King. Neither
three quarts of water; add one quart j sll ^ t thou swear bv thy head, because
raw linseed-oil, then take, say ten thou C anst not make bne ludr white
pounds dry red paint, and add water j or b]ack Bnt let your vommxiuica .
Yea, yea; Nay, nay; for
to make it thin enough to put on with
a white-wash brush. Add one gill tur
pentine to the linseed-oil. If red does
not suit, add anything to alter the
color. Paint made as above will be
almost as bright in ten or twelve years
on rough buildings, as when first put
on. To make the building fancy, you
may paint the comer boards with
white lead and oil.
All that a man has to do in a place
where he is a stranger, is to bridle
his tongue and his temper, cultivate
good feelings andjkind affections, and
meet every advance of his neighbor
with courtesy, cordiality and cheer
fulness.
tion be,
whatsoever is more than these
cometh of evil.”
“Them’s from the good old log
book, I see,” said the sailor.
A negro held a cow while a cross
eyed man was to hit her on the head
Avith an axe. The negro observing
the man’s eyes, in some fear enquir
ed : “Is you gwine to hit whar you
look ?” “Yes,” “Den, hold de cow
yourself,” said Cuffee.
Who is wise ? He that learns from
every one. Who is powerful ? He
that governs his passion. Who »
rich ? He that is content.