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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.