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She Stwannftl) (Tribune.
PublUhed bv the Tarauxa PnblishfMC Co.)
J. H. DKVEAU2L ffiswv '►
VOL. 111.
The Old Farm-House on the HilL
Boast not of Queen Anne cottages.
Nor of summer villas gay,
, Nor yet of stately palaces
Where marble fountains play;
The architect ne’er yet designed—
And design he never will—
A pile that can compare with the
Old farm-house on the hilh
The millionaire in mansion grand
Owns pictures old and rare,
And all the luxuries of wealth
Has gathered ’round him there;
In spite of all his bric-a-brac,
And store of wealth, he still
Oft thinks of the low, gabled-roofed,
Old farm-house on the hill.
He backward glances and he sees
His mother as she sits
Near by the hearth and croons to him
And deftly mends or knits.
Again he hears of “Sinbad” bold,
And rattling “Jack and Gill,”
The while the shrill wind whistles 'round
The farm-house on the hilh
He sees his father grave and stern,
But ever good and just,
Again his fav’rite maxim hears,
“In heaven put your trust.”
And e’en old Rover seems to hear
A-whining at the sill,
That he may join the group within
• The farm-house on the hill.
He sees the kitchen fire-place wide,
The rafters smoked and grim,
The earthern dishes on the shelf,
In just array and trim.
He sees, around the table old,
His bi others, Ike and Phil,
And little Jane, who sleeps near by
The farm-house on the hill.
He hears his mother’s parting words,
“My boy, beware of sin.”
When about to quit the homestoad for
The city's snares and din;
And she opes the oaken chest of drawers
And, from its cunning till,
Hands him a book—and so he leaves
The farm-house o.i the hill.
He sees himself a struggling clerk,
A “junior” for a term,
He rises higher and becomes
The head of a great firm;
He grinds out station, rank and wealth
From traffic’s ceaseless mill,
. Yet sighs for quiet days and tho
Old farm-house on the hill.
Again he sees a wrinkled face,
A silvery head of hair;
* Again he sees a slender form
In a high-back rocking chair.
Again he views, with shining eye,
The rustic bridge and rill
That murmurs thro’ the valley by
The farm-house on the bill.
Once more by tremulous lips is he
Affectionately kissed,
Then darkened is the scene as by
A rolling cloud or mist;
But thro’ an opening in the cloud,
Ere yet his dim eyes fill,
He seet the country graveyard near
The farm-house on the hill.
Boast not of Queen Anne cottages,
Nor of summer villas gay,
Nor yet of stately palaces
Where fountains splash and play—
The architect ne’er yet designed—
And design he never will—
A pile that can compare with the
Old farm-house on the hdl.
[Arkansaw Traveller.
I ——--
HELEN OF TROY.
BY OLIVE GREEN.
Helen of Troy bentover a long table
in. the city of her nativity and ironed,
ironed, ironed; hour after hour, all day
long, silently pushing aside with red
fe and swollen hands the polished white
■L cuffs which found their way to every
Kt part of the civilized worll.
For the modern 11.-len was a “Troy
Girl.”
you told her that the work done
by her hands was actually sent not only
to every part of her own land, but to
Europe and the islands of the sea, she
would hava stared dully at you without
in the least comprehending tho scope of
her work.
For in the curriculum of the school in
which her education had been shaped,
the only geography known, was that of
tho streets.
The whole world outside of Troy was
labelled and set aside as “Unexplored
Territory.”
The thoroughfare on which stood the
tenement in which sha was born, was of
> that order common to our older cities,
in which the proportion had long since
been lost between the number of inhabi-
tants, human, canine, and feline, and
the visible supply of clothing and food
—as had that also between Christian
graces, and tho degradation and filth.
Duke’s Alley was, in point of fact,
the “Five Points” of thrifty, Christian,
modern Troy.
Helen was a child of the Alley.
Twenty years before our story opens sho
had been born the child of a thief, the
first offspring of a marriage withfa
feeble-minded girl, poor and degraded
as herself.
Not a parentage calculated to endow'
its children with shining virtues by any
known law's of heredity.
For ten years she had fought and
scratched and sworn her way through
life in Duke’s Alley, and “held her own
with the best of them,” which inter
preted by the outer world w’ould have
read, “the w’orst of them.”
In tho ten years, almost as many lit
tle brothers and sisters had successively
come, wailed out for a shorter or longer
period their feeble protest against the
hard conditions of their environment,
and gone the silent way.
Only one had survived the struggle;
Rhoda, four years younger than Helen.
The neighbors had been known to
say, “It’s lucky Bill’s folks’s young
’uns dies off, for I don’t know how
they’d ever raise ’em, ’n’ they wouldn’t
be good for nothin’ if they did raise
’em.”
“Bill’s folks” were not held in high
esteem even in Duke’s Alley.
“Don’t let any on’em lick ye, Nell
Let ’em know ye’re as good as any
on ’em,” had been the parental counsel.
Bill’s ideas of “goodness” was not
perhaps, that held by his Christian and
philanthropic fellow citizens in the
broader and less crowded streets near
by. To Bill its metes and bounds were,
grit—muscle. In the society of the
Alley, “I’m as good a man as he,”
freely translated would have been, “He
can’t lick me.”
Helen’s leanings towards “goodness”
had been developed solely on this line.
Untaught, defiant, stupid, the one
tender spot in her heart was her love for
Rhoda.
“Lay a hand on Rhody,’n’ I’ll scratch
yer eyes out,” was an edict frequently
issued against her companions of the
alley, and they knew th it safety lay in
obedience.
An epidemic swept over the city, and
Duke’s Alley was decimated. When
the health officers invaded Bill’s domi
cile and carried out its stricken inmates,
kind Mistress Murphy next aoor took
Nell and Rhoda into her own room be
hind the saloon to stay until their pa
rents’ return. But an adversary “bet
ter" than Bill had at last tested strength
with him, and he was forced to yield.
What could be expected of Bill’s w’ife
but that she should do now what she
had unquestioningly done through all
her wedded life, follow Bill. So they
never came back to the tenement in
Duke’s Alley.
Mistress Murphy told the orphans
their parents were dead. To Nell’s dull
intellect it meant little beyond a ces
sation of kicks and blows. She had
not yet grappled with the problem of
the food and clothing supply.
Mistress Murphy solve 1 it for her.
“It’s here ye’ll stay and ye’ll help me in
the salloon for the bit of a bite and a
sup ye’ll nade; and as for Rhody. why
what ’ll kape one ’ll kape two. But I’m
thinkin’what’ll do wil her at all to
kape her out of the way, for .it’s no
earthly use she is for the work, and
she’ll be in th? way in the saloon. It’s
thinkiu’ lam I’ll jist sind her around
to the public school to kape her out o’
the way.”
School for Rhody!
Nell seized upon the idea greedilv,
as something which in a dim, myste
rious manner was to differentiate Rhoda
from the denizens of the alley, and give
her a place among the children whom
in her envy she had jeered at as “big
bugs.” Shp, Nell, was to continue,
unquestioningly, a part of the life of
the alley; but Rhoda was to take her
place in the world outside. The heart
of poor, depraved Nell swe.led, not
with envy, but with pride.
Three years more passel. In school
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY. JUNE 2.1888.
Rhoda easily outranked tho children of
her age. Absorbing unconsciously
something of respectability, the saloon
with its brawling men and women, tho
saloon, which was to Nell the incarnate
idea of life and pleasure, became to
Rhoda intolerable.
“I hate it, Nell; the drinking and the
fighting! I wish wo didn’t live here.’
The words sank deep into Nell’s
heart, though she could not sympathize
with the feeling which prompted them.
Day by day sho pondered. Sho settled
her plan doggedly before she ventured
to unfold it to Mistress Murphy.
“I’m goiu’ into a laundry to work.
Me an’ Rhody is goin’ to take a room
and live. You’re good to us, but it’s
the drinkin’ an’ tho cussin’ an’ all
Rhody can’t stand.”
Now Mistress Murphy's theory that
“what’ll kape one ’ll kape two,” while
plausible enough as a theory, had failed
in tho testing. She not only consented
to Nell’s plan; sho helped her with such
disabled furniture as sho could spare.
An now, for seven years, Helen of
Troy had been the bread-winner.
It had been no light struggle, but
somehow' it had been done, and Rhoda
had never known that tho dinner-box
Nell carried daily to tho laundry was
often carried empty.
“Rhody is goin’ to graduate next
week; I’m havin’ her a lovely new
dress made, ’n she’ll look as good as
any on ’em,” said Helen to the girl who
worked next her in the laundry.
“Yes, an’ ye’ll drop down dead in
yer tracks before tho day if ye
don’t stop. It’s worked to the bone ye
are now wid sindin’ Rhody to school!
She’s no better to come into tho laun
dry an’ earn her livin’ ’n ye are.”
The old spirit of “Lay a hand on
Rhody ’n I’ll scratch yer eyes out,”
flashed from the eyes of Helen. It was
only for a moment; tho years had
taught her to conquer.
“Rhody’s goin’ to be a teacher. Tho
Board has promised her a place soon as
sho graduates. Sho won’t never have
no such struggles as I’ve had. I’m
goin’ to take it a little easier, too, when
she gits so she can take care of her
self.”
“Yes,” muttered Bridget, “if ye’re
alive. It’s many’s tho day I’ve seen ye
iron all day wid an empty stomach. I’ll
warrant Rhody didn’t study without a
bite of somethin’.”
“Rhody didu’t know, Bridget. I
would not want she should.”
Commencement day it was whispered
that tho girl who led her class was Bill’s
daughter; that by hard study she had
w'orked herself up from the life of tho
slums.
But what mention of Helen? “Any
more of Bill's family living?'* inquired
a guest.
“Yes, one. She’s only a laundry girl.
Can’t read nor write. I should hope, if
I were Rhoda, she would not find it con
venient to be present today.”
It had not “ been convenient.” With
fevered faco and glassy eyes she lay on
her poor bod at home.
“I guess I fainted or somethin’ today,
Rhody. It was hot ironin’ and I was so
tired.”
She never went back to tho laundry.
Three months later, when Rhoda was
fairly installed as public school teacher,
Helen of Troy, Nell of the alley, folded
her tired hands, no longer red and
swollen, and went to rest—a humble,
unknown life went out. With patient
toil she had lifted a human life to a
higher plane. “They also serve who
only stand and wait.” Who shall esti
mate her work? “Only a laundry girl,”
but her influence in iy be felt through
the ages.— New York Observer.
o L
HI
Wears a Ring On Her Thumb.
A rich Philadelphia woman, noted for
her wealth and eccentricity, having ex
hausted her finger space in displaying
her jewels, wears a striking ring on one
of her thumbs. Strange as this ap
pears, it is only going back to an old
fashion. Two or three hundred years
ago it was tho fashion to wear a ring on
the thumb, and the signet ring was
worn on the thumb by the nobility at a
time when the finders were devoid of
ornaments. —[Philadelphia Times.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
Love, hope, fear, faith—these make
humanity.
Fluency is too frequently mistaken
for ability.
People who never have any time are
tho people who do the least.
He who can take advice is sometimes
superior to him who can give it.
Economy is nothing more than good
sense applied to tho affairs of every day
life.
You cannot get wit or wisdom in a
college, but you may leara there how to
use it.
Tho hardest thing to lose sight of is a
poor relation ; wo often have to hunt up
our rich ones.
The talent of success is nothing moro
than doing what you can do well, with
out a thought of fame.
Thrift of time will repay you in after
life with a usury of profit beyond your
most sanguine dreams.
Good breeding consists in having no
particular mark of any profession but a
general elegance of manners.
Doing any one thing well—even sit
ting stitches and plaiting frills—puts a
key into ono’s hand to the opening,of
some other different secret; and wo can
never know what may be to come out of
the meanest draggery.
Burning the Diamond.
The ancients were as sure no diamonds
could be burned as they were that none
could bo broken. Adamas, the indomit
able, yielded neither to fire nor force.
It was not till IGO9 that Do Boot sus
pected its inflammability, nor till 1G73
that it was actually burned. In 1604
Avcrani and Turgioni of Cimento, at the
instigation of Cosmo 111., the grand
duke of Florence, burned the diamond
in tho focus of concentrated sun rays,
wdiere it was seen to crack, corruscate,
and finally disappear. They had tried
to learn tho secret of its composition,
and, like a true martyr, it had perished
unconfesscd; it had burned itself out
like a sun. Forty-four years after tho
death of Newton (who guessed tho dia
mond to bo some “unctuous body
coagulated,” perhaps the vegetable se
cretion of the banyan tree, better to
shake than tho Pagoda), a magnificent
diamond was burned, on July 25,
1771, in the laboratory of M. M aequo r,
and in tho presence among others of a
well known Parisian jiwoller, M. Ln
Blanc, who, notwithstanding what he
had just seen stood forward, and de
clared the diamond to be indestructible
in the furnace, for that he had often
subjected stones of his own to intense
heat to rid them of blemishes, and that
they had never suffered tho slightest
injury in the process. Thereupon tho
two chemists, d Arcet and Rouello, de
manded the experiment should bo made
before them on the spot with the result
that poor Ln Blanc, like the savant do
village, after three hours’ trial in tho
crucible at the temperature that melts
silver, minus one of the most precious
of his stock in trade. [Cornhill Maga
zine.
Visited His Grave In Her Sleep.
A young lady of Atchison had u very
curious experience recently. A young
man of whom she was very fond died
several weeks ago, and th<yg|M.r night,
while sound asleep, she ardKHrom her
bed, dressed and went out to the ceme
tery. When she awoke she was lying
on the young man’s grave, and she was
so frightened that she jumped the fence
and ran to a farm-house in the vicinity.
The farmer hitched up a team and took
the young woman to her horn:.—[Kan
sas City Star.
Effects of Good Literature.
Wihie (reading alou 1 to his sister) —
“Children who hope to become noble
men and women should always be duti
ful and obliging, treating their elJers
with respect. They should ”
Sister—“ Willie, mother just called
to you to bring in some chips.”
“Aw, hang the luck. Why can’t sho
do it henelf I"—[Lincoln Journal.
(f 1.25 Per Annum; 75 cents for Six Months;
< 50 cents Three Months; Single Oop.ee
( 5 oeni»' -In Advance.
What Pearls Are.
Costly and lovely though they be,
pearls are merely a calciroous piuJuc
tion—a sort of mot bid concretioc
found in many species of tho class mol
lusco—not necessarily in tho oyster
thereforo. Tho translucent pearl is
only tho outcome of a very simple law
namely that in these animals tho hard
parts shall accommodate themselves to
tho soft. Tho oyster loves to bo easy,
and renders its bod soft and cosy, albeit
its sheets, figuratively speaking, are
wet ones. By its wonderful mucus it
provides against inequality or irritation.
Lot some matter cause internal worry,
or a grain of sand external annoyance,
and’straightway it commences to cover
over tho evil with this calcareous exuv
ium, audio and behold! wo get our
pearls. This is even butter than “out
of tho eater camo forth meat,’’ for, as
Sir Edward Homo says: “Tho richest
jewel in n woman’s crown, which can
not bo imitated by any art of man,
cither la bonuty of form or brilliancy of
lustro, is tho abortive egg of an oyster
enveloped in its own nacre.” This term
is tho scientific i anio for tho exuvium
just spoken of, and if a pearl bo exam
ined by a good light through a strong
glass tho concentric layers, like those
of an onion, may bo soon arranged
around a very minute hole, wherein tho
ovum, grain or send, Ac., was first de
posited -[Loads (England) Mercury.
Manuscripts in Shackles.
St. Pauls Cathedral in London, has a
relic of tho ancient monastic library; it
is a vellum folio in Latin, with its old
chain attached. Tho library of Wells
Cathedral was chained in former days
and some of its volumes still retain the
rings to which the chains were linked.
In 1481 Sir Thomas Lyttleton be
queathed to tho convent of Hales-Owen
a book “which I wull bo laid and
bounded with an yron chayno la some
convenient parte within the said church
at my costs so that nil preesfs and others
may so and redo it when no it pleaseth
them.” Fox’s Book of Martyrs was
often chained in the churches. Many
of the rare tomes of the Oxford-Bodleian
Library used to bo chained, nnd when
James I. visited it he declared that
were he not a king he would desire no
other prison than to be chained with so
many good authors. When John Sel
den’s books were given to tho Bodleian
in 1059, over £25 were spent in provid
ing them with fetter’. Not until the
latter half of the last century did tho
Bodleian Library shako off all its
shackles. —(Penman’s Journal.
The Chinaman’s Dovot on to Rice.
A Canton correspondent say< that the
Chinaman’s devotion to hi’ rice is as
great as an Englishman's to his dinner,
and at their regular times for “chow ’
11 in tho morning and 5 in the after
noon-nothing can take him away from
his bowl of rice. As all the city life is
al fresco one secs miles of feeling
Chinamen if ho progresses through the
streets at their meal hours. In each
open room or shop the scene is the same
—a circle of dirty heathens gathered
around a table shov.hng tho rice into
their mouths as fast ai chop-sticks can
play, tho edges of the bowls being held
to their mouths merely as a funnel to
direct the stream. Ooc cm stand in
the shops, vainly waiting to purchase,
and a surly Chinaman will only co<n«
forward when he has fi.iishol his bowl
of rice, and has a sublime indifference
to trade, profits and cheating when it is
his rics time.
Remarkable Coincidences.
On D.cember 5, IGG4, a boat crossing
the Menai strait was sunk, with eighty
one passengers on board. Only one
escaped and his name was Hugh Wil
liams. On December 5 1785, another
boat was sunk under the same circum
stances. It Jul sixty pisscngers on
board and all were lost except one—his
name was Hugh Williams. O i August
5, 1820, the Bri tol Mercury records
another such accident There were at
that time twenty-five passengers on
board; only one escipod, and, wonder
ful totell, his name was Mfeigh Williams.
—iltajterii Argue
NO. 33.