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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.