Newspaper Page Text
Tie GartersTllle Ew§.
CORNELIUS WILLINGhImv Etitor.
For the cause that neells'assistance,
For the wrong that needs resistance,
For the future in the distance,
<Q ITE VLL E, : : GEORIGA.
NEWS GLEANINGS.
• "There are more than 200,000 Germans
itt Texas.
tlol: Fred Grant is to reside at Hous
‘torr, Tex., it is said. *
y Jn Lafourche, parish, La., there are
3J.3. citizens named Williams.
;i* The frontier battalion of Texas now
oohsists of five companies numbering
120 officers and men.
- The Louisiana Sugar Bowl does not
l\ope for a large crop this year, for it is
at least a month late.
v.'W • • ■■ !-. ■ ■■ ‘ • ■ ■
The Austin (Tex.) Statesman says
•tljajt the increase of the sheep flocks
about Uvalde this year averages ninety
per.cent., the largest known for a long
time.
The Charlotte Observer reports the
purchase of land near that city for the
purpose of smelting works. Ores will be
purchased from the owner of mines and
smelted and refined at the works.
Chattanooga Times: A terrible dis
ease prevails among the cattle in the
Seventeenth district of Bartow county,
Ga. It proves fatal in nine out of ten
cases. Not less than twenty milch cows
have died within a mile of Euharlee in
the past ten days.
r ,r Mobile (Ala,) Register: The resigna
tion of Dr, Stuart Robinson retires from
active service in the Presbyterian church,
one of the ablest divines in the country.
Many of our readers will remember hear
ing Dr. Robinson preach when the Gen
eral Assembly of tfle Presbyterian church
South met here a few years after the
war. .-j .(j q) id o
•Austin (Tex,) Statesman : Galveston
having deprived herself of her natural
barrier against the encroachments of the
gql*f waves by removing the sand hills
fchaf-had formed along the beach, is re
placing them, or aiding nature to do so
by planting hedges of salt cedars, against
which the sands drift and form natural
levees or break-waters.
° The South Florida Journal states that
Dr. A. C. Caldwell, of Sanford, has an
orange tree that is a curiosity worth go
ing to see. It is a large, fine tree, stand
ing just at his front gate. It has a good
ly number of ripe oranges on it, and
about 1,000 green ones half grown, the
tree having blossomed after the storm of
last August, and is now full of blooms
for another crop.
The Pulaski (Tenn.) Citizen says that
Dr. Leftwich, assisted by the Christians
of Pulaski, held a prayer meeting in the
cojut-house in that town before a very
large audience of country people, and
the editor states that it was one of the
most serious and effective meetings he
evCr witnessed. Two neighbors, come
to town to law each other, stepped into
thq room where the meeting was being
held, and they soon had each other by
the hand and differences were forgotten
in embraces.
The Macon (Ga.) Telegraph says tha
on Friday last Mr. W. H. Turner, a
brother-in-law of Mr. Nelms, went down
tb Butler to get ’Squire Bryant, a negro,
under sentence of ten years in the peni
tentiary. ’Squire saw that he wa* in for
a decade of labor, and, rather than en
dure it, he took a pocket-knife-and cut
out both his eyes. He afterward claimed
that the deed was done, by his having
run against some splinters in a wall, but
mhrks of blood upon his knife and other
circumstances disprove this, and prove
the first statement. Mr. Turner returned
without his man.
. Vew Orleans States: Telephonic com*
munication has already been established
bettveen Vicksburg and Jackson, Miss.,
and yerhal messages are sent over this
wire daily. Yesterday the exchange in
this city placed the telephonic attach
• merits to a Western Union wire and
yelled* ‘Helloa” at Vicksburg. The lat
ter answered back, “What do you
want ?” just as natural as you please.
This interchange of salutations placed
Thdtwo cities rn speaking terms, as it
.were, and business began at once. Every
body who had anything to say said it,
those who had nothing te say said
it jqst to be sociable. Mr. G, W. Irby,
of'Vicksburg, sent an order to Justin
bangles for several boxes of ginger-snaps
and crackers. The experimental con
nection was a decided success.
it .
t iTjcpsts but little to make a child glad ;
It,crisis but little to secure .the grateful
r&ftetebrance of a child* but if ft cost a
tnmdred-fold more than li does, it would
* profitable investment It pays well
k> have a monument erected to ourselves
hi a child’s memory and aflbctions. 4nd
this ike may have by a little thoughtful
feew apd attention.
lo\ tu l r-tt —i t * ■ *■-j
AFfitWkes 176 paymasters rfnd clerks to
0 officers and men in our little
WJi-i Our naval officers are fine, manly
Epwa but our havy is j*idioulou#.
TANARUS AM 01.0 COAT. f
Foor<|t, jh\\ l°*i| for
ThisfcfDdlhis brush*-1 youfortenseajjpna,f
Whilst auf stuff
Keeps on attackjg|g without end.
Wisely, like me, hffblows rebufl':
And never let us’part, old friend.
That birthday flown, whan flrst I wore you,
I mind well—memory yet is strong—
My friends arourfd to honor bors vou, , ,
And poured their welcome fo ft u in song-
Your shabby plight—of which fin vain—
Hinders them not an arm to lend.
They'd freely feast ns flow again;
So never let us part, old friend.
You’re patched behind, an ancient rending;
That, too, recalls a past delight;
One night to run frojp Jatte pretending,
I felt her soft hand, clutch me tight.
Torn were you, and that frightful tear
It took iny Jane two days to mend,
While X was held hercabtive there;
So never let us part, old friend.
Have you steeped In musk aqd amber,
Which fops sniff, looking in the glass?
Or pushed along an ante-chamber.
For swells to sneer at as we pass?
Throughout all Fraaod by faction rent,
Ribbons and stars fell strife can send—
A field-flower is your ornament;
8o never lot us part, old friend.
A
Fear no more days of idle, ranging,
When our two fates become as one^
Of pleasure with plain interchanging,
Of intermingled rain and sun.
For the last time I soon shall dofl
My clothes, Just wait ! and we Will we
Together, gently going off - ;
So never let us part, old friend.
—From Berangtt,
THE YANKEE SCHOOLMASTER.
On “Miller’s Hill” a farm-house; a
lowland structure built of wood; whose
slap-boards, weather-worn aud gray, were
falling into slow decay; whose mossy
wooden lane-troughs swung from rusty
irons rudely hung; whose curling shin
gles here and there betrayed the need of
good repair; whose ancient chimney,
japped with stone, with lichens partly
avergrown above the sagging roof, looked
down upon the spires of Brandon town.
An old gray barn was built near bv,
with heavy girths and scaffolds high,
and solid sills and massive beams, and
through the cracks and open seams the
slanting sunshine used to play in golden
gleams upon the hay, where oft, wijli
many a shout, the children jumped and
played about at hide and seek, or looked
with care for hidden nests in corjgrs
there. Where oft at morn they used to
hear the cackling hen and chanticleer,
where, by the broad floor ’neath the
mows, were cribs and stanchions for the
cow-s, and strong plank stalls where
horses stood to eat their hay from racks
of -wood, and, in a corner stowed away, a
farming-mill and old* red sleigh. Where
jolly farm-boys husked at night the gold
en corn by candle-light, and hung their
lanterns by the bay on pitchforks thrust
into the hay, .where, sheltered from the
autumn rain, with thundering flails they
threshed the grain. •
year tne bum of no£ey-t>eos was
heard aniid the apple tree, the lilacs
bloomed, the locusts fair with their sweet
fragrance filled the air; the stubble fields
wftre plowed aud sown; the warm rain
lell; the bright suu shone; the robins
*ang; the green grass grew; the roses
blossomed in the dew; the tall red holly
hock onoe more bloomed brightly by
the farm-house door; the sun-flower bent
its gaudy head; the cattle in the pasture
fed, the crickets chirped in meadows
near, sounds were wafted to the ear o’er
waving fields of tasseled corn, of clatter
ing scythe and dinner horn. The reapers
reaped their golden sheaves; the swallows
left.the stuccoed eaves; the apples in the
autumn breeze grew ripe and mellow
on the trees; the leaves were swept about
the air; the fields were brown, the wood
lands bare; the snow-flakes fell; the air
grew chill; the sleigh-bells rang on “Mil
ler’s Hill.”
The winter sky was overcast, the snow
and sleet were falling fast. ’Twas
Christmas eve; the air was cool; the
children hurried home from school, with
laughter loud and outcries shrill they
reached the farm-house on the hill, they
came across the kitchen floor, nor stopped
to shut the entry door, all striving first
the news to tell, exclaimed, in concert,
with a yell: “ The teacher’s cornin’ here
to stay; he’s up the road a little way; he
stopped to talk w ith Susan Stow, an’ we
ran home to let you know.”
The mother stopped her spinning
wheel, and put away her creaking reel,
swept up the dusty hearth with care,
rolled down her sleeves and brushed her
hair, smoothed out her rumpled gingham
gown, and in her rocking-chair sat down;
then, striving hard to look her best, she
calmly waited for her guest.
Her ruddy, round, and fleshy face was
bordered by a cap of lace; her nose was
nearly hid from view by her plump
cheeks of healthy hue; her eyes were
bright, her hair was thin, she had a
heavy double chin; her husband’s arms,
when both embraced, could barely cir
cumscribe her waist.
Of all large women nine in ten will
most admire the little men, and little
men—why none may tell—will love large
women quite as well. They woo, they
wed, the man through life is quite o’er
ahadowed by the wife.
Soon, parting from his rustic flame,
the tardy young schoolmaster came. His
eyes were blue, his features fair, his chin
o’ergrown with downy hair; behind his
ears his locks of brown were smoothly
brushed and plastered down; his bony
limbs were large and long; his well
trained muscles firm and strong: the tall,
stout boys that years before had thrown
their master through the door liis rod
regarded with dismay, and seldom dared
to disobey. Tho pride and Hub
bardton was tall Lycurgus Littlejohn,
who had, liis fellow-townsmen said: “A
heap, o’ lamin’ in his head.” (Three
terms ip Mmblebury College liad given
him his ‘fliekp” of knowledge.')
He often used to sit between the fair
young girls of swt;et sixteen and kindly
help them “do their sums.” They
brought him fruit and sugar plums; they
had tneir girlhood hopes and fears; his
words were music in their ekrs; each
smile he gave them had; a -pharm; gpeli
frown would fill them with alarm.
What envious looks at Susan Stow, h:s
favorite scholar they Votfla throw.
Her eyWs and hair were dftrk ns night;
her skin Was soft, and smooth, and
white; a peach-like bloom her cheeks
overspread; her (ips like, cherries, ripe
and red. What wonder he could not
conceal the glad, sweet thrill he use to
feel through all his palpitatirig frame
when to hi# desk she coyly came and.
hiking up with eyes of love, like some
sly, timid little dove, would softly ftsk
hini to expound some knotty problem
she had found? Whakbemg m the world
below seemed ball fljsj as Httsan
Stow? Her pyes wowl fl4fi muL lu re*
turn, his face wchfd jflhsh and s&angiply
burn, and, ’Then Ije I friec||to calculate j
me long, hard up#ii A* slateJ
th e figures danced bware his eight like*
little gobblins, gay and white, olid, when
at night, with cheerful face, he started
l?* his boarding place, what
he came so slow in W’alkmg homo with
d > ihonK>i!bH3lad , tiiC kilchin floor
tQ Vmlbsmg"* at tlie ,door,,aiid, with
a scrutinizing slar,e she said: Walk in
an’ take a chair, an’ be to hohie. while
you are tee, Oome, Btfeby, take his
tilings, my dear.” • - • •
Forth from his corner, by the fire, the
husband came at her desire. His head
was bald, save hero and there, stray lit
tle tufts of grilled hair; his shoulders
stooped, his form was thin, his knees
were bent, his toes turned in; he wore a
long blue flannel frock, gray trousers,
and a satin stock; a cotton collar, tall
and ember, was rudely rumpled around
edch ear; Ms face was mild, his smile w'as
bland, as forth he put his ponderous
hand, and said: ‘‘l think I see vou well.
I hope you’ll stay a leeile spell; we’re
plain folks here I’d have you know, and
don’t go in for pride nor show. ” Then,
after stepping on the cat, he took the
teacher’s coat and hat; he hung them on
a rusty nail, and, picking up his milkim?
pail, lie slowly shuffled out of doors and
Went to do the evening chores.
Close by the firelight’s choerful glare
Lycurgus drew the easy-cliair. The
savory steam of chickens slain came
fr,om ’the black pot on the crane. The
kettle’s merry song he heard; upon the
hearth the gray cat purred; while, by
the chimney-corner snug, the house doc
dozed upon the rug. Among the chim
ney-piece of wood an idle row of flat
irons st-ood, two candlesticks in bright
array, a paiy of snuffers and a tray. The
time-\y f orn clock ticked slowly on; it
struck the hours forever gone. “Forever
gone,”‘it seems to sny—“Forever gone,”
from day to day, in its tall case oi
sombre line—’twas fifty years since it
was new. Betweon the windows, small
and* high, the looking-glass was hung,
near by; a brazen bird with wings out
spread’, perched on the scroll-work over
head; beneath, a shelf, the common home
of family Bible, brush, and comb; above,
from iron hooks were hung long frames,
with apples thickly strung, and, fixed
npon the wall to dry, were wreaths of
pumpkin kept for pie.
Forth from the buttry, to the fire,
same Aunt RebeccaMclntvre. a swallow
spinster, somewhat old, whose mellow
age was seldom told; her hair was gray,
hor nose was thin, it nearly touched her
toothless chin. Life’s weary work jmd
constant care had worn a face that once
was fair.
Each Sabbath morn, from spring to
spring, within the choir she used to sing,
in ancient bonnet, cloak, and gown, the
oldest relics in tho town; beside the
chorister she stood, and always did the
best she could, and, while with tuning
fork, he led, she marked his movements
with her head, her nasal voice rose sharp
and queer above the deep-toned viol
near.
She took the black pot from the crane,
removed the kettle from the chain, and
mad# the tea and chicken-broth, drew
out the table, spread the cloth; then,
from the table, bright and new, brought
the best china edged with blue.
The chores were done, the feast was
spread; all took their seats and grace
was said. They ate the savory chicken
stew, so juicy and so well cooked
through; before them, rich round dump
lings swam, on steaming plates,
•with cold boiled Imm, with feathery
biscuit, warm and light, with currant
jam aud honey, white and crowning all
a good supply of yellow, meatly pump
kin-pie. Where such a bounteous feast
is found, who would not teach and
“board around?”
The supper done, the father took from
off its shelf, the sacred Book, and read of
one who stilled the sea one stormy night
in Galilee; then, kneeling down before
his chair, he asked the heavenly Shep
herd’s care.
Soon from tho group, with drowsy
heads, the children started for their
beds; took off' tho little shoes they wore,
and left them on the kitchen floor; then,
bidding all a fond “good night,” with
pattering feet, they passed from sight.
Dear little feet, how soon they stray
from the old farm-house far away; how
soon they leave the family fold to walk
the shining streets of gold, where every
hope is real and sure; where every heart
is kind and pure; where every dream is
bright and fair,—ol may we meet our
loved ones there!
The farmer left his cozy seat, with
clattering slippers on his feet, went to
the cellar where he drew a mug of eider,
sweet and new, and from his broad bins
brought the best and ripest apples for
his guest. Then, by the warm fire’s rud
dy light, they lingered until late at
night, strange legends told,’ and tales
that made them all feel nervous and
afraid.
But “Aunt Rebecca ” watched in vain
the curling smoke above the crane ; she
nodded, dozed, began to snore, she
dropped her knitting on the floor, awoke,
her eyelids heavier grew, arose and si*
leutly'-withdrew.
Along tho creaking stairs she crept, te
the lone chamber where she slept, and
close the window-curtains drew, to screen
herself from outward view. She stopped
the key-hole of the door, she set the
candle on the floor, looked ’neath the
valance—half afraid to find a man in
ambuscade; then sitting down, aside
with care she laid her garments on a
chair, slipped' on her ghostly robe of
white, took off her shoes, blew out the
light, thetf, in the darkness, from her
head removed her wig and went to bed,
curled up, with chilly sobs and sighs, and
quivering shut Her drowsy eyes'.
Poor single souls Who sleep alone, the
night wind hath a dismal tone to
your-lone ears—-you start with fear ai
every midnight sound you hear, when
late at night with weary heads you creep
into your Weary beds. The nights seem
long, your lips' turn blue, your feet grow
cold—you know they do!
She slept, at last; she heard once more
the ripple break npon the shore ; again
she sat upon the strand, and some one
•lasped her fair young hand, and word*
were whispered in her ear that long agio
•he loved to hear, and, starting up, she
cried in glee “ I knew you would come
back td me/’ Sfio woke. Alas! no
was there. Her thin arms clasped
tin; vacant air. ’Twas but a dream. She
lived atone, Without she heard the night
wiud ifldan, while oh the window-panes
the snow wm wildly beating .From be
#hefi scnSal
fTha&gfe; sal by the f|din| fire and
washed/its fluting fiaifie expire wlple
she iistehed* bfii hO Wbtd tftfcy Uttefep
Sotild be clearly beaTa ; btii Ptoton a recol
lection came that sent a shudder through
her, framer-tho sausage to be fried at
morn, the breaksast table to adorn, was
in the befirdßMfWfifcrte their gnhst wohld
joon betake nlmself to rest, Th£f elocb
struck ten, aha softly said, “ I'll gfet ii
witlfiri a room as
s hill and humid as a tOlilb j ’twas never
lired, ’twas seldom swept; in its damp
corners spiders crept*; they built their
bridges through the air, and no rude
broom disturbed them there. The rain,
ihat fell on roof decayed, dripped through
the chinks that time had made, and on
the whitewashed walls fan down ill won-
Srous frescoes tinged with brown ; the
window-'paheSj with frost o’erspread,
were wanner than that icy bed. Cold
was the matting .on the floof * cold blew
the breeze beneath the door: Cp\d were
the straight-backed ohairs of wood; cold
was the oaken stand that stood on spind
ling legs that looked as chill as lone, bare
pines on some bleak hill; high rose that
bed o’er things below, like some tall ice
berg capped with snpw. Here every
highly honored guest, when bedtime
came, retired to “rest.”
Within its large and moldy press hung
Mrs. Busby’s best silk dress: her Sunday
bonnet, shoes, and shawl, on rusty nails
against the wall, by Mr. Busby’s suit of
blue, that at his wedding had been new.
Here on a peg his best cravat reposed
within liis old fur hat; here, shut from
sight of human eyes, were rows of mince
and apple pies, with rolls of sausage and
head-cheese, stored on the shelves and
left to freeze.
From out her cot the maiden crept,
slipped on her shoes and softly stepped
along the hall andtlirough the gloom un
til she reached the chilly room. Unseen
she crossed the icy floor, unheard un
locked the closet door, snatched from
the shelf, in a firm hold, a bag of saus
age, stiff.and. cold, then turning quickly,
sought to beat a sudden, safe, and sure
retreat. Too late! A light gleamed on
the wall, aud sound of footsteps filled
the hall, then to the room came boldly
on the stalwart form of Littlejohn! She
backward stepped and stood aghast,
then closed the door and held it fast.
With chattering teeth and trembling
frame across the floor Lycurgus came.
He placed the candle in liis hand upon
the spindling oaken stand, Then closed
the door, and, with a frown, witfnii a
cold chair settled down. He threw his
boots upon the floor, and, rising, tried
the closet door; but Aunt Rebecca, in
affright, clung to the latch with all her
might. To look within Lyenrgus failed,
he turned away and thought it nailed!
Then, pulling down. the snowy spread,
he put his warm brick in the bed, took
off his clothes, and’slipped between the
sheets of ice, so white and clean, blew
out the light, and, with a sneeze, close
to his chin he brought his knees, be
neath the clothes he drew his nose, and
tried in vain to find repose; while “Aunt
Rebecca,” from the wall, took down the
Sunday gown and shawl, she wrapped
them round her freezing form, ana
blushed, to keep her visage warm.
The paper curtains, loosely hung upon
the windows, rustling swung, while
through each quivering, narrow frame
of frosty panes a dim light came that
made the furniture appear like duijky
phantoms crouching near. Lycurgus
listened in the storm and hugged nia
brick to keep him w arm, • but colder
grew the humid bed, the clothes con
gealed around his head; to feel at ease in
vain he tried; he tossed and turned from
side to side; eaoh time he moved, be
neath his weight the bedstead creaked
like some farm-gate. His brick grew
cold, he Could not sleep, a strange sen
sation seemed to creep upon him, while
across the floor he closely watched the
closet-doolr.
Was he but dreaming? No! his eyes
behold, with wonder and surprise, what
man had never seen before—the*e was a
movement at the door. It slowly turned
and to his sight came, through the dim,
uncertain light a hideous hand, that in
its clasp some awful object seemed
co grasp, a erouohlng form, with fright
ful head, seemed slowly coming towards
the bed. He heard the rusty hinges
creak, he could not stir, he could
not speak, he could not turn his head
away; he shut his eyes and tried to
pray; upon his brow of palid hue the
cold sweat stood like drops of dew; at
last he shrieked, aloud and shrill—the
door swung back and all was still.
That midnight cry, from room to
room, resounded loudly through the
gloom. The farmer andhis wife at rest,
within their warm and cozy nest, awoke
and sprung, in strange attire, forth from
their bed loud shouting—“fire!” But
nnaing neitner smoke nor name, soon
stumbling np the stairs they came. In
cotton bedquilts quaintly dressed, they
heard a deep groan from their guest, ana,
full of wonder and affright, pushed in
the door and struck a light.
Deep down within the feather bed
Lycurgus had withdrawn his head, and,
out of sight, lay quaking there, with
throbbing breast and bristling hair.
They questioned him. but he was still;
he shook as if he had a chill, the cour
age was completely gone from tall Ly
curgus Littlejohn. • ,i
What human language can express,
the modest maiden’s dire distress, while
standing still behind the screen, a sad
spectator of the scene? What pen or
pencil can portray her mute despair and
rleep dismay ? Awhile she stood, and
through the door she peeped across the
bed-room floor; the way was clear,
and like a vise she grarfped the sausage,
cold as ice, sprang from the closet, and
from sight she glided like a gleam of
light, away* without 1 a look or word, she
flew like an affrighted bird; without a
Uioment of delay, the mystery cleared
itself au'ayi . fL . . ..
Again the snow gleams on the ground,
again the gavly sound, again
on “Miller’s Hill” we hear the shouts of
children loud and clear; but iff the barn
is heard no more the flapping flail upon
the floor. The house is down,, its in
mates gone, and tall Lycurgus Little
john is npw an old man. worn with-care,
with stooping form and silver hair. He
married dark-eyed Susan Stow, and they
were happy, yeats ago.
When, in the merry winter-time, their
children’s children round him climb, he
tells them of his fearful fright, oil that
far distant winter night: and. after tfeev
are put tjp bed, by the fire with
IKTdmg nead he sits and sink? tßiaium-;
irs S?ep, and miiglfs and shivers § h|s
6ef>, -©las! fad is tmt dreaming saJl of
’at spore bed #fi “Miller's Hm.
ugene J. TfatC in Chicago Tfwunei
White Uttm Share*,
A New Yorker was seated in all
In Gunnison City, Col., one day, when
& grizzlv looking old chap entered and
tsiect ft ffcftt was the place where they
iokl shares of tbd WhiW Horae Silver
Mine. Being assured he tras in the of
ice of the company he observed:
“I have heard the White Hore spoken
of as being a likely mine.”
“It certainly is. Wd took SIO,OOO
worth of ore out in one day.”
“Phew! She must be just old richness!
How many men have ye got Y to w ork.
“Oh, about three hundred.”
“Have ye, though? Art? the sheers go
ing off purty lively?”
“Shares are selling like hot cakes, and
we have only a few left. Everybody
jays the White Horse is a big invest
aaeKt.”
“What are sheers worth to-day?”
“I will soil you at ninety-five, though
t know- they will be worth face value to
morrow.”
“No! You don’t really mean ninety
five?”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s better; there’s a hundred
sheers which you sold my pard yes ter
day for twenty dollars. I w ent over to
the mine, found nothing but a hole and
a dead mule, and I told him I'd borne up
ftnd get his money back, or do some
shooting! I’m tarnal glad to find them
sheers has riz from twenty to ninety-five.
That will give my pard his money back,
aud buy me a winter outfit besides.
Here’s the sheers, and now let me be*
the color of your money!”
“But, sir, we—”
“Pass out the cash!” said the old man.
as he rested the end of liis shooter on
the edge of the counter.
The company had left his revolver in
his overcoat outside, and he didn’t be
lieve the New Yorker would shoot for
him. After a look around, he began
counting out the money with a bland
ginile, and as he made the exchange lie
said:
“Certainly, sir—greateM of pleasure,
air. Sorry you didn’t hold them one
lay more, and get the full face 1 value!’’
A Persian Legend.
' . It is related of a Persian mother, on
giving her son forty pieces of silver as
Hs portion, that she made him swear
never to tell a lie, and said, *? Go, my
son; I consign thee to God, and we
shall not meet again till the day of judg
ment”
The youth went away, and the party
he traveled with were assaulted by rob
bers. One fellow asked the boy what
he had, and he answered, with a candor
that surprised his questioner:
“Forty dinars are sewed up in my
garments. ”
The robber laughed, thinking the boy
jested. Another asked him the same
question, and received the same an
swer. At last the chief called him, and
asked what hs had. The boy replied:
“I. have told two of your people al
ready that I have 40 dinars sewed up in
my clothes.”
The chief ordered his clothes to be
ripped open, and the money was found.
“And how came you to tell this ? ”
“ Because,” replied the boy, “I would
not be false to my mother, whom I sol
emnly promised never to tell a lie.”
“Child,” said the chief, “art thou so
mindful of thy duty to thy mother,
while I am insensible, at my age, of the
duty I owe to God ? -Give me thy hand,
that I may sw-ear repentance on it.” He
did so, and his followers were struck
with the scene.
“You have been our leader in guilt,”
they said to the chief, “be the same in
the paths of virtue.”
And, taking the boy’s hand, they took
the oath of repentance on it.— The Little
Gem and Kindergarten .
The rower or Kissed
When Charles 11. was making his tri
umphant progress through England cer
tain country ladies who were presented
to him, instead of kissing the royal hand
in their simplicity held up their pretty
lips to be kissed by the King, a blunder
no one would more willingly excuse than
the lover of pretty Nell Gwynne. Geor
gian a, Duchess of Devonshire, gave
the butcher, a kiss for his vote
nearly a century since, and another
equally beautiful woman, Jane, Duchess
of Gordon, recruited her regiment in a
similar manner. A kiss from his mother
made Benjamin West an artist. “ Kiss
me, mother, before I sleep. ” How sim
piQ a boon, yet how soothing to the little
suppliant is that soft, gentle kiss. The
head sinks contentedly on the pillow
for all is peace and happiness within.
The bright eyes and rosy lips
close, and the little darling is soon
reveling in the bright and sunny dreams
of ipuocence. Yes, kiss, mother, for
that good-night kiss will linger in the
memory when the giver lies moldering
in the grave. The memory of a gentle
mother’s kiss has cheered many a lonely
wanderer’s pilgrimage and has been the
beacon light to illuminate his desolate
heart; life has* many a stormy billow to
cross, many a rugged path to climb, and
we know not what is in store for the lit
tle one so sweetly slumbering, with ho
marring care to disturb its peaceful
dreams. The parched and fevered lips
will become dewy again as recollection
bears to the sufferer’s conch a mother's
love, a mother’s kiss. Then kiss your
little one’s eire they sleep; there is n
magic power in that kiss which will en -
dure to the end of life.—TVqy Times.
Vanity of Highwaymen. —A Galves
vesfcon lady was reading a newspaper ac
count of a stage robbery that recently
took place west of San Antonio and was
vw indignant on reading that besides
ropbing the passengers they had opened
the mail and read the letters, among
them, possibly, a letter the lady herself
had written to a friend. “You needn’t
be alarmed,” remarked the lady’s hus
band. “I dare say they did not read a
word m any of those letters, as those fel
ldws don’t know B. frotn bull’s foot.”
‘‘Why, Upm, did they make out that
they read them ?” “Oh, they made out
they could read so as to make a favorable
impression on the passengers.”;—Gal
veston Neivs.
USEFUL HINTS.
NTo take fresh paint off a woolen gar
ment rub the spots with stale bread un
til Removed,
"Lemons can be kept sweet and fresh
for months by putting them in a clean,
tight cask or jar, and cover with pold
water. Xlie water must be changed as
often as once every other day, and the
cask kept in a cool jdfcco.
To Uesthov Ants.— Take Carbolic
acid diluted with water—take one part
acid to ten parts water—and with a
syringe throw tins liquid into all the
craekß and holes where they nest, and
aids will soon vanish. Cockroaches are
also driven away by it.
When sewing buttons on children’a
clothes where there will be much strain
on the button, the danger from tearing
the cloth out will be greatly lessened by
putting a small button directly under
the larger .outside button. This applies
of course, only to buttons with Boles
through them.
An exchange says : “For worms and
flies infesting house plants, several read
ers recommend watering them .with lime
water. . Qlose the opening at the bottom
of the pdf, till with Imie'water’and Jet ft
stand for an hour "or two, then remove
the plug at the bottom and drain it otl.
If one application is insullieietit, try a
second. ”
To give a beautiful gloss to shirt
bosoms, procure two ounces of J" 1
white gum arabic and pound it to po"-
der, put it into a pitcher and pour oil to
it a pint or more of boiling water, h
cording tothe degree of strength you
desire, and then, having covered it, let
it set all night. In the morning pour it
carefully from the dregs into a clean
bottle, cork it, and keep it for further
use. A table-spoonful of gum-water
stirred into a pint of starch that Inis
been made in the usual manner, will give
a beautiful gloss to shirt-bosoms, and to
lawns (either white or printed) a look of
newness to which nothing else can
restore them after washing. It is also
good for thin white muslin and all kinds
of laces.
To Clean Mikrobs. —Take a news
paper or part of one, according to the
size of the glass. Fold if small and dig
it into r basin of clean cold water ; when
thoroughly wet squeeze it out m your
hand as you would a sponge, and thou
rub it hard all over the face of the gbu-s,
taking care that if is not so we* a.
-run down in streams. In fact, tlu> pa h i
must only be completely moistened, .or
damped ah through. After the
has been well rubbed with wet paj.e#,
let it rest for a few minutes, and then
go over it with a fresh dry newspaper
(folded small in your hand) till it looks
clear and bright, which it will aWt
immediately and witk no further trouble.
This method, simple as it is, is the
best and most expeditious for cleaning
mirrors, and it will be found so on trial
giving a cleanness and polish that
can be produced by no other piocess.
The Moines of America.
It is not a mere accident that the
homes of America are the nipbt eon if'liv
able and comforting on earth. Not are
these home comforts due simply to me
chanical skill or economic judgment. 1
country which lias limited the powers of
its government stimulates society-, and
highly moral society produces the lrfird
perfect homes which human eyes or
poetic visions can behold. No tone knows
the American system well who n °t
know the American home. Our political
ivstem is publicity itself : American So
ciety has never yet been fully charac
terized; while the best result of both, the
perfect home, lias been praised in gen
eral terms, but not described and ex
plained in its true fullness. The novel
writers, from whom such descriptions
might be expected, have failed ignomin
iously in their attempts at showing tie.
maturest results of qur social system.
Yet this system is unique, and it is a
marked advance Upon all European
models. The English home approaches
the American home, while the German
home approaches the English; but the
ideal American lioxae, not rarely realized,
has a comfort, a character and a dignity
all its own. It may .seem to be wanting
in the graces, traditions and rtVpymj:
bilities peculiar to the best English
homes; it surpasses them in moral dig'
nity; it differs from all the others in be
iug the result of a highly-refined civiliza
tion; it is the best and purest outcome of
our ethical system. There has been
much pleasant banter about the great
American novel that is to come. Let it
not dwell too much oh politics; British
politics are larger than ours. Let it not
tell too much of busy people; the French
are as industrious and industrial as we
are. Let it not confine itself to analysis
of character or sentiment; other nations
have both in abundance. Let it describe
the purest and sweetest of American
homes and let it describe, not an ideal,
but that reality which distinguishes the
American home from all others, and
shows it to be the best outcome of our
history, our political institution and our
locial system.— Boston Advertiser.
How Divers Are Paid in India.
A writer upon India and its affairs
writes in the Boston Commercial Bulle
tin: “Must of the divers are trained to
their business from childhood. They en
ter tlwater, as a general thing, un
armed and entirely naked, having only a
net bag about their necks in which to
put the oysters. One minute and a half
to three minutes is the usual length of
time which they remain beneath the
surface. The men are paid according to
the number of oysters they catch, they
in some cases receiving a certain amount
of money, and in others a certain pea*
centageof the unopened oysters. This
latter arrangement usually pays them
best in the end, but they, poor things,
prefer to receive a definite amount, even
though it may be but a pittance, rather
than run the risk of receiving a larger
sum, with the possibility pf obtaining
nothing.
A POLITICAL WAT OP PUTTING IT.
Nellie—“ So I hear you are to marry
an M. P. shortly, May ?” “ Yes. I
have always been mad on you
know, and the other day Henry having
suggested my immediate annexation
(allowing me Home Rule, pf course), we
found we could both agree on a treaty,
which I’m happy to say the governor
hap ratified.”— Fun.