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By R. S. HOWARD. VOLUME VI. Vother’s Way. Qlt within our little cottage As the shadows gently tall, While the sunlight touches solt’.y One sweet lace upon the wall, Do we gather close together, And in hushed and tender tone, Ask each other’s lull forgiveness For the wrong that each 1 as done. Should you wonder why this custom At the ending of the day, Eye and voice would quickly answer, “ It was once our mother’s way!” It our home be bright and cheery, If it hold a welcome true, Opening wide its doors of greeting To the many, not the few; If we share our Father’s bounty With the needy day by day, Tis because our hearts remember This was ever mother's way. Sometimes, when our hands grow weary Or our tasks seem very long, When our burdens look too heavy, And we deem the light all wrong, Then we gain anew, lresh courage, As we rise to proudly say: “ Let us do our duty bravely, This was our dear mother’s way.” Thus we keep her memory precious, While we never cease to pray That at last, when lengthening shadows Mark the evening of our day, They may find us waiting calmly, To go home our mother’s way 1 JUST IN TIME. I “Oh. dear, how nice it is to he home ■ again!” I Faith Lindsey tossed her brown straw I hat upon a table, and rolling her well worn kid gloves up into a tiny ball, flung them after it. “Mother,” she went on, cheerily, "this vacation is just a blessing to the! I’m so tired of that dingy old school room. and my almost hopeless task of ‘teaching the young ideas,’ ftc. There are times when I long to drop every thing and just fly away. Oh, had I the wings of a dove!” she hummed, while her mother, a worn, tired-looking wo man, with a sweet, gentle face, watched her fondly. “ I’ve longed so for the end of the term," Faith c mtinued, “ and now it is ready here, I can hardly realize my emanci;ahon. 1 was so tired of work; andsogiad to get back to you, away from the dusty oils, here in the dear old •!’’ Fmil pause 1 for breath. Her mother suiih and. “Well, dear,” she aid, quietly, go now to your room and dress. Max will y* u know!” vid Faith, b ushing prettily, ran oft to her own apartment. And when she hail closed ihe door behind her, her smiling face grew grave. " Poor old Max!” she said, sadly, as she leaned her elbow upon the window sill, and rested her chin in one rosy pitm; “how I wish i could help him! li<!is so true and good; and such a small sum of money would give us everything wo desire. Two thousand dollars would buy him Dr. Shipton’s practice, and then he would be on a fair road to a competency at least; and that isthe ino-t we dare :•ope for. But what I, a poor schoolteacher, toil ing from day'to day for a bare subsist ence, and to help mother the little 1 can. Thank (lod the old home is ours ; there tteonly mother and me to worry about, we have health, and—well,” as a cheery smile stole over her pretty face, 1 don t see but that we have a great '-ta to be thankful for, after all.” sprang to her feet, the glad smile Lii lingering around the dainty mouth; pul ii i g the pins from her coil of ‘fd-brown hair, let it fall in rebellious r! PP*cs all over her shoulders, half rovering her petite figure. And as her “’•tie ringers went busily to work piait the thick wavy tresses, and making roein into the most bewitching braids iD ‘ : pulls that ever bewildered a man’s miring eyes, her thoughts still flew along. It only Aunt Patience had left us her “ one y' She must have been very rich! Wiis to ° joung when she died to re her. She had always intended ) ma, *' e mamma her heir. But the old was so eccentric—crazy, I should [" 't. I should not wonder if she had -urn ,i i 1(?r mo ney somewhere. For, al- a will was fo\:nd, bequeathing her possessions, ail the P-operty ever discovered was this little ,7 Us ' aQ d the grounds around it. But • >vas a great gift for us, coming as it ,u jUst at the time of dear papa’s death, * too young to be any assistance, - ■ mamma nearly penniless. Goa has Ver y good us.” Paused to note the effect of her • a^ Ure in the small mirror; then plac “i asnowy rosebud in one side of the tresses, she unlo ked her trunk, • began turning her dresses over. ,1* will wear my black grenadine!” e at last, decidedly. “ Max likes w ' Was easy to see that the young lady Ur y anxious to please Max Peyton ca i >ey ton, as he had a right to be now that he had received his j' uln! a od was looking about for , ce * But, ah! the weary waiting a lor lax was poor, and had iittle in enee. Ana. mere was Dr. Shipton, &t ° Wls : ing too old to work longer 1 proiessi on. whose comfortable Maice ne wouta dispose of for two dollars—so small a sum, when stake ° PeS OUD £ ve6 are a t< t r^? r ax and Faith had been be tj .. ‘ lor ,lj ° re than a year. Poor as 1 - belli were, Mrs. Lyndsey loved tc tljiu; he THE FOREST NEWS. heart* grew heavy as she thought of their long days of waiting, which stretched before them like arid desert. , And, while I have been telling all faith’s secrets, she has been getting herself up in the pretty grenadine, and at last floated downstairs to meet her lover, with the brightest face imagin able. Max was a tall, fine-looking young fellow, with a world of determin ation in his dark eyes. He was brave and earnest. To him life was a battle, in which he meant to come off con queror. And the days flew by on golden wings, bringing nearer the hour when Faith must return to the city and the toil of the schoolroom. What was her consternation, one morning, to receive a terse note informing her that the school-board which employed her had determined upon a retrenchment of ex penses for the coming season, and had proceeded to discharge a number of the teachers, herself among them. Poor Faith! Though the confinement of the schoolroom was irksome to her, she was, nevertheless, dependent upon her situation for a livelihood, and it was taking away from her her sole support. For a time she was stunned by the intelligence and knew not which way to turn. Then, more trouble came. A smell sum which she and her mother had contrived to save between them was lost by the failure of the bank in which it was placed; and it seemed truly “ that troubles never come singly,” for (and that was worst of all) Mrs. Lyndsey’s health began to suffer, and Faith thought, with a sudden shock of grief and terror, that her mother might be taken away. These were to Faith; and had it not been for Max—brave, true patient Max—she would have come near despairing. It wa3 one even ing in early autumn A bright wood-lire roared and crackled on the broad hearth; for the old house which had belonged to Aunt Patience was built with great, roomy > fireplaces. Mrs. Lyndsey and Faith and Max, who had di-opped in for the evening, were gathered around a large table drawn up before the fireplace, and strewn with books and work, for Faith’s only dependence now was in needle work. Times were hard with the young physician; and he had. at last, made up his mind to tear himself from home and all he held dear, and go out into the new western country, and build up a prac tice. He loved*Faith too well to will ingly subject her to the hardships and trials of his new life. No! He would go forth alone—and work so hard, and strive so earnestly, that some day he would be ready for his wife, and Faith, he knew, would be true. “ But I shall be old and gray by that time!” smiled Faith, through her tears. “I shall love you just the same, my darling!” the young man ans wered; and somehow. Faith could not doubt him to save her life! So. sitting there before the bright fire, the three discussed the proposed depar ture; till, at las , Faith dropped her tear dimmed eyes upon her work, and quiet fell over all. “ Mamma,” said the young girl, sud denly, after a long, thoughtful silence, , what do you suppose Aunt Patienc did with her money?” Mrs. Lyndsey smiled. “ I’m sure 1 have no idea, dear,” she answered, ‘‘l considered that subject exhausted long ago. It was thought, however, that she converted her ready money into jewels. I remember hearing her say that diamonds were the only safe investments which never depreciate, and that stones of value are never drugs n the market.” “Imagine Aunt Patience bedecked with diamonds!” laughed Faith, mis chievously. “ Max, just imagine, if you can, the antiquated lady whose portrait hangs yonder attired in jewels, and a fashionable ball-dress!” Faith laughed again, and the others could not resist the contagion. For Faith, with her cheerfulness, bore her crosses with fortitude. “She’s only mamma’s aunt, you know,” interpolated Faith, apologetic ally, “and she years ago! Mamma, did any one ever search—a real, good, old-fashioned search, I mean —for Aunt Patience’s money?” Her mother smiled sadly. “Yes, indeed. For years we could not give up the hope of finding it. Every nook and corner about the oid place has been carefully examined. No, no, my child, Aunt Patience laid her money away too safely for any hope of recov ery after all these years. Don’t let such a foolish thought enter your head, my dear; it is but a waste of time!” Faith reached across the table, and laid one fiDger on an ancient looking box. “See, Max,” she cried, “here’s the old la' 1 . workbox —I don’t believe m ’ ma has ever disturbed its contents. W no knows,” she cried, with a sudden fire in her brown eyes, “ but Aunt Pa tience may have hidden her money away in it.” “Vain hope!” said Mrs. Lyndsey; “the box has been overhauled and ex amined over and over again.” Faith sighed. ‘■Ah, well,” she said, resignedly, “I suppose I must submit to fate’s decrees. But if only we had a little of that money—think how much it would ac complish !” She had taken from the box a ball of wax —such as commonly forms part of the paraphernalia of a workbox, and toyed idly with it as she talked. But as she finished the last sentence e yes met her iovtr’s.gaze, and she JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, JULY 23, 1880. blushed rosily at the thought of what her speech implied. In her confusion she dropped the ball of wax. It rolled across the rug at her f ect, and right into the blazing woo fire. Faith sprang to her feet with a little cry of dismay. “Oh, what a pity!” she cried, brand ishing the poker, “ and it’s over seven teen years old!” She thrust the implement she held into the flames and rolled the melting wax toward the rug. But it was too late to save it. The wax had entirely melted and lay upon the hearth in a great soft pool, and there, before their astonished eyes, as though a magician’s wand had called it forth, glowed and sparkled something —shinins, scintillating. With a low -ary of rapiure Mrs. Lyndsey stooped and raised it. “ Max—Faith,” she said, brokenly, “ Aunt Patience’s fortune is found at last ” And so it proved. The eccentric old lady had converted all her ready money into one immense diamond. How she had obtained it no one could conjecture, but she had hidden it away in tliis odd receptacle, only to be ressur rected after seventeen long years. And Mrs. Lyudsey—heir at law—as well as by the old lady’s will—had no trouble in exchanging the jewel for greenbacks—a handsome fortune. Mrs. Lyndsey insisted on purch- sing the practice of Dr. Shipton for her fu ture son-in-law, and Max accepted the money as a loan. He anff Faith were married soon, and with Mrs. Lyndsey went to live in a pretty Gothic cottage just within the city of Rochester. Max is a popular physician now; gos sip says he is getting rich fast; and the hearts of the happy trio are ever grate ful for the unhoped-for discovery of the fortune which came just in time. Gough and the Bible. While in England, says John B. Gough, I was invited to church with a clergyman who is now bishop of Car lisle, and we had a discussion for two hours. A titled lady was present and she helped him. I was alone, and had to bear the whole brunt of the battle in the Scriptural argument. “ The Bible permits the use of wine,” said he. “Very well,” said I; “suppose it does?” “The Bible sanctions the use of wine.” “Very well, suppose it does?” “ Our Savior made wine.” “ I know he did.” ‘ Why, we thought you were pre pared to deny this.” “ I do not deny it; I can read.” “Wine is spoken of in the Bible as a blessing.” 1 replied: “ There are two kinds of wine spoken of in the Bible.” “ Prove it.” “Ido not know that I can, but I will tell you what it is; the wine that is spoken of as a blessing is not the same that is a ‘ mocker,’ and the wine that is to be drunk in the kingdom of heaven cannot be the wine of the wrath of God So that although I cannot prove it learnedly I know it is so. “Now, there are others who go farther than I can go, but you will please let me go as far as I can under stand it, and if I cannot go any further do not find fault with me. I hold that the Bible permits total abstinence; I would rather search the Bible for per mission to give up a lawful gratification for the sake of my weaker-headed brother who stumbles over my ex amples into sin, than to see how far can follow my own propensities without committing sin and bringing condem nation upon any one’s soul.” Another gentleman who came to me for a long talk said: “ I have a con scientious objection to teetotalism, and it is this; our Savior made wine at tlie marriage at Cana, in Galilee.” “ I know he did.” “ He made it because they wanted it.” “ So the Bible tells us.” “ He made it of water.” “Yes.” “ Then he honored and sanctified wine by performing a miracle to make it. Therefore,” said he, “ I should be re proaching my Master, if I denied its use as a beverage.” “Sir,” I said, “ I cannot understand how you should feel so; but is there nothing else you put by which our Savior has hor ored ?” “ No, I do not know that there is.” “ Do you eat barley bread?” ‘•No,” and then he began to laugh. “And why not?” “ Because I don’t like it.” “ Very well, sir,” said I; “our Sav ior sanctified barley bread just as much as ever he did wine. He fed 5,000 peo ple with barley loaves, manufactured by a miracle. You put away barley for the low motive of not liking it. I ask you to put away wine for the higher motive of bearing the infirmity of your weaker brother, and so fulfilling the law of Christ. I wish to say, that man signed the pledge three days after ward.” Nothing would fortify us more against all manner of accidents than to remember that we can never be hurt by ourselves. If our reason be what it | ought, and our actions according.to it, 1 we are invulnerable. for the people FOR THE FAIR SEX. Fashion Notes. Japan -sepongee is a summer novelty. Shirring grows more and more fash ionable. Cheese cloth dresses are worn again this summer. Children’s collars nearly cover their shoulders. Small children wear shoes matching their ribbons. Even the drooping brims of hats are ned this year. Garden shawls of India muslin are trimmed with lace. Ladies’ riding-hats are of glossy dark silk this season. While lawn jackets are substituted for dress waists. Stockinet mitts are more fashionable than those of lace. India muslin is trimmed with gold lace and made into ties. Bugs, flies and beetles form the border on some kerchiefs. Heavy box-plaited flounces to the knee are much worn. Soft-tinted blush roses make the pret tiest flower bonnets now. China satin is a light variety of Lyons satin. It drapes admirably. Belts of yellow satin ribbon are worn with lace sacks and tunics. Ladders of bows are used to fasten the tails ot coat basques together. Lace mantles are now drawn together and fastened high on the left side. Egg plums and gooseberries are used to trim some Tuscan straws. The embroidered lisle thread stock ings are worked in Irish convents. The princess effect is the prevailing style of full dress summer toilets. One feather is considered sufficient trimming for a fine Tuscan bonnet. Muslin embroidery stitched on net is used for curtains and toilet covers. Dark trimmings on light dresses or light on dark are equally fashionable. Riding habits for summer are of dark gray or navy blue or dark brown cloth. Ironclad lisle thread hose are the proper thing to wear at th° mountains. White silk sunshades with white lace covers are only meant for carriage use. Long linen mantles are worn for dusters by ladies who object to the ulster. Panier and back draperies of Surah silk are frequently added to faille cos tumes. Lisle thread gloves with buttons are more fashionable than those with elastics. Soft twilled silk squares with floss embroidery on the edge make pretty kerchiefs. Black Spanish lace sleeves are de rigueur with black summer toilets of ceremony. White or cream nun’s veiling and Surah make an admirable combination toilet of ceremony. The p opulation of Ireland, which has been generally increasing since the be ginning of the century, is now rapidly falling off by emigration. The summer traveling dress for brides is of Cliuddah cloth of coachman’s drab or biscuit shade, made up over a silk skirt of the same color, and trimmed with drab or biscuit Surah silk. Elaborate double trains and high wire i Medici collars of pearls or crystal beads are adopted for bridal dresses, when the wedding is “ at home,” in the evening, large, and an occasion of full ceremony. The style at the moment for English bridemaids is to wear simple white muslin dresses with a fichu crossed on the bosom, white parasols and a small basket of flowers hanging on the arm. In one hand a prayer book. The waist must be round and gathered to a belt, and worn with a wide belt of white Surah silk with sash ends. Au Elopement in the marly Days of New York. A runaway match in the old Revolu tionary days of New York was success fully accomplished by mounting horses at the summit of Murray Hill and by dashing madly through shady lanes and flowering orchards down to the friendly shelter of Trinity church. This was the time when the scarlet-coated British officer was viewed in the light of for bidden fruit by the patriotic American maiden, and this advantage, added to his intrinsic charms, naturally endowed him in her eyes with every deadly fascination. A country house until very recently standing on the summit of Murray Hill, inhabited by a family ol social import ance. well known for its devotion to the Ameiican cause and for the attractions of its daughters, became the rendezvous of many distinguished foreigners con nected with the political struggles of the day. Major Audre was a frequent visitor at the house, and, in a letter ex tant from his pen, dwells in loving de tail on the charms of the sisters of the family. One of them, celebrated for her proficiency in chess, was challenged to play a game with the renowned Kos ciusko, at whose fail “ freedom shrieked!” Whether gal.antry on the part of her opponent or her own real merit won the game for the lady cannot now be accurately determined; but a well authenticated family legend affirms that the stately Pole rose to his feet, and, bowing profoundly before the lady *id: “Madam, Kosciusko acknowl edges you his conqueror.” The chess board and table ot' the story are still preserved as heirlooms. The heroine of the chess combat and the elopement above alluded to are one and the same person. In her case, as in that of others, the beauty and ac complishments of an English officer overcame the terrors of parental dis pleasures, and, yielding to her lover’s entreaties, the accomplished belle and the man of her choice mounted their horses for an afternoon ride, and gal oped down to Trinity church, where the clandestine marriage was solemn ized by Bishop More. The escapade naturally gave rise to interminable family scenes and vehe ment recriminations on all sides. One sister fainted, and the rage of the father was difficult to overcome. But time and the bride’s winning nature effected at last a reconciliation, and the union, though somewhat brief, for the lady was not long-lived, seems to have brought happiness to the whole of the family circle. Gathering Salt. Cheshire has long been noted for its salt springs, but these are of mild qual ity compared to the brine springs that rise in the rock-salt localities. This natural brine supplies the best salt. It is pumped up from its springs by a powerful engine, and conveyed into a huge cistern, and from thence into the pans prepared for it. Under these pans, when full, fires are kept burning day and night, and constantly attended by the firemen, whose sole business it is to pile on the fuel, “rakeoff” when the heat becomes too great, and generally keep the furnace at its proper working heat. As soon as the brine becomes heated, the process of evaporation be gins. All around us stood rows of long black sheds, from which, at evei’y crevice, issued steam in soft white clouds. Inside these sheds it was very mut h like being in a briny Turkish bath; the heat of the steam was so in tense that we could only bear it long enough to take a hurried look at the vast pan in front of us filled with boil ing brine, on the top of which the salt lay in a thick scum, remaining for an instant on the surface, and then sinking slowly to the bottom. Standing on a raised ledge beside the pan was a shaggy, foreign-looking man, stripped to the waist, and perspiring at every pore, who held a long-handled rake, with which he drew to the edge of the pan the salt which lay in masses over the bottom. Having raked together a considerable quantity of salt, he took another tool not unlike a giant spade, perforated with holes, with which he lilted the salt from the pan. The qual ity of the salt varies according to the time at which it is “ drawn ” or lifted from the pan. The finest, or what is called “butbr salt,” is drawn when the brine is at boiling point, the pans being drawn two or three times a day. The courser salt is left much longer at a lower temperature, being drawn, in some eases, two or three times a week, • nd in the case of “ fish ” or preserving salt only once or twice in a fortnight. A morsel of soap or glue is add ei to the heated brine to assist in the pui ify ingof the salt. The courser varieties arc never packed in tubs, but loaded straight from the shed on to the barge, or filled into specially prepared sacks. The finer salt is carried into the drying room, which is kept constantly at a temperature trying to ordinary human nature, and here it is formed into neat blocks and packed for exportation. This being clean work, much of the packing ol fine salt is done by neat, tidy women and girls. The coarser salt is carried loose to the barges on the river. University Magazine. What a Volcano Can Do. Cotapaxi, in 1738, threw its fiery rockets 3,000 feet above its crater, while in 1754 the blazing mass, struggling for an outlet, roared so that its awful voice was heard at a distance of more than 600 miles. In 1797 the crater of Tun guragua, one of the great peaks of the Andes, flung out torrents of mud, which dammed up the rivers, opened uew lakes, and, in 1,000 feet wide, made deposits 600 feet deep. The stream from Vesuvius which, in 1837, passed through Torre del Greco contained 33,000,000 cubic feet of solid matter, and in 1793, when Torre del Greco was de stroyed a second time, the mass of lava amounted to 45,000,000 cubic feet. In 1760 .Etna poured forth a flood which covered eighty-four square miles of surface, and measured nearly 1,000 000,- 000 cubic teet. On this occasion the sand and scoria formed the Monte Rosini, near Nicholosa, a cone of two miles in circumference and 4,000 feet high. The stream thrown out by Etna in 1810 was in motion at the rate of a yard a day for nine months after the eruption; and it is on record that the lava of the same mountain, after a terrible eruption, was not thoroughly cool and consolidated for ten years after the event. In the eruption of Vesuvius, A. D. 79, the scoria and ashes vomited forth far ex ceeded the entire bulk of the mountain; while in 1660 ./Etna disgorged more than twenty times its own mass. Vesu vius has sent its ashes as far as Con stantinople, Syria and Egypt; it hurled stones eight pounds in weight to Pom peii, a distance of six miles, where similar masses were tossed up 2,000 leet above the summit. Cotapaxi has proiected a block of 100 cubic yards in volume a distance of nine miles; and Sumbawa. in 1815, during the most ter rible eruption on record, sent its ashes as far as Java, a distance of 300 miles of surface, and out of a population of 12,600 souls only twenty escaped. TIMELY TOPICS. The number of cattle killed per year in the United b'tates is 11,825,000, the meats from which amount to 4,088,300,000 pounds, and their total value when killed for food is $608,200,000. Mr. Gladstone entered parliament at twenty-three, a year after leaving the university. Two years later Sir Robert Peel made him a lord of the treasury, and within a year under secretary of state lor the colonies. Lord Beacons field did not make his way into the house of commons until he was thirty two. Of Mr. Gladstone’s leading col leagues, Mr. Childers and Mr. Bright entered the house of commons at thirty two, and the Marquis of Hartinglon at twenty-four. Of former leaders, Mr. Pitt entered at twenty-one, and Mr. Fox was returned at nineteen, two years before he could be received in the House. Some interesting figures on the divorce question in New England States have been brought together. Connec icut last year granted 316 divorces, which is eighty-five less than in 1878, and in part a result, no doubt, of the repeal of what is known as the “ omni bus clause.” For several years previous to 1878 this shows a decrease of 130. Vermont also shows a falling off. Only 129 divorces were granted in 1879, or seventy-one less than in 1878. In Mas sachusetts the case has been the other way.* In 1876 600 were granted and the increase last year is believed to be enough to balance the falling off in Ver mont and Connecticut. A Boston doctor has struck it at last. After years of experimenting he has produced a colorless, inodorous liquid which prevents all sense of pain in a sensitive tooth, while the dentist is dig ging at it. He calls it Naooli —the diar esis being essential in order to give the name a learned and scientific aspect. “One or two drops of the liquid,” says the Boston Advertiser “are merely placed in the cavity and in a few min utes rhe dentist proceeds to excavate it n the usual manner, but without a par ticle of pain.” Its action is “confined entirely to the tooth that is operated upon;” and when the operation is over, the tooth returns to its normal condi tion. It is claimed that the new discov ery injures neither the nerve nor the bodily health. A beginning is about to be made, says Nature , to carry out Lieutenant Wey breclit’s proposal for a circle of observ ing stations around the North Polar region. The Danish government has resolved to establish a station at Uper nivik, in West Greenland; the Russian government has granted a subsidy for an observatory at the mouth of the Lena, and another on the new Siberian islands; Count Wilczek is to defray the expenses o 1 a station on Nova Zembia under the direction of Lieutenant Wey precht; the United States signal service, under General Meyer, has received per mission to plant an observatory at Point Barrow, in Alaska; and it is ex pected that Canada will have a similar establishment on some poiit of her Arc.ic coast. At the Hamburg confer ence it was announced that Holland would furnish the funds for a station in Spitzbergen; and it is expected that Norway will have an observing post on he extremity of the province of Fin mark. This is a good beginning, and it is hoped that some sort of agreement will be established to have all the ob servations made after a unitorm method, otherwise their value will be greatly decreased. A Bitter Tongue; It is strange but true that some peo - pie delight in saying biJer things to their neighbors. You are never safe with them. W hen you have done your best to please, and are feeling very kindly and pleasantly, out will pop some underhand stab, which you alone can understa .d—a sneer which is masked, but which is too well made t be misunderstood. It may be at your person, or your mental feeling, your foolish habit of thought on some little oecret opinion confessed in a moment of genuine confidence. It matters not how sacred it may be to you, he will have his fling at it; and, since the wish is to make you sutler, he is all the happier the nearer he touches your heart. How much unhappiness do such mean at tacks cause tender-hearted men and women. Advertising. The lack of advertising i3 one of the chief causes of business failures. There are business men who don’t understand the value of advertising. They do not see the direct connection between adver tising and the entrance of a customer, cr the demand for any particular article. They, also, with a self-importance which is amusing, fancy their businesses are known to the whole community, chang ing as that community is to an extent which they have no conception of. The principle upon which business men should act is, advertise, and advertise the truth. It you have a good thing let the people know it. Furthermore, never let an advertisement get stale. — Mone tary Times. “The papers talk about civil engi neers,” said old Mrs. Briggs “ I won der why there ain’t no civil fonduc tors?” PRICE—® 1.60 PER ANNUM. NUMBER 7. Immaculate. Clothed in white—a happy child at play, Iltr face all radiant as the hues ol morning— With fairy step she trod; A creature lovely as the 11 >were of May, Who could bewitch us with her childish scorning, Or rule us with a nod. Clothed in white—with blossoms in her hair A maiden whom to love appeared a duty— A speil aronnd her hung; A sense of all that naturo makes most fair, That filled with rapture all who watch her beauty, Or heard her silver tongue. Clothed in while—she heard the wedding chime, Blushing beneath her crown of orange flower*, A 8 her soft answer flows Like music, with no prescience of the time When o’er her life, which love so fondly dowers, The shadowy grave will close. Clothed in white—her form we seem to see Shine in the glory of anew existence, Delying time and night, And from all earth-born memories set tree; While we, like travelers toiling in the dis tance, Yearn lor the coming light. Tin? ley’s Magazine ITEMS OF INTEREST. Kite flying is a sport with the grown people in Southern Asia. The political situation—A govern ment office. —Somerville Journal. Official figures show that 50,000 Ital ians emigrate to the United States annually. Scientists say that one-fifth of the human brain is composed of phos phorus. Sparking across a garden fence admits of a good deal being said on both sides. —Saturday Night. At this time of year nothing will bring sickness to the boys of the family q uicker than anew grindstone. —Middletown Transcript. Faribault, Minn., laysclaimto having the oldest horse in the country. It is a forty-six-year-old mare, a descendant of the original Justin Morgan. What is the difference between a stylish young lady’s cranium and a hammock? One is a banged head, and the other is a hanged bed. —Quincy Modern Argo. The largest number of emigrants which f ver arrived in the United State in one year was about 300,000. The aggregate during the present year, is believed, will exceed half a million. Mark Twain’s Cook Book. Recipe for New England Pie.— To make this excellent breakfast dish, proceed as follows: Take a sufficiency of water and a sufficiency of flour, and construct a bullet-proof dough. Work this into the form of a disk with the edges turned up some three-fourths of an inch. Toughen and kiln-dxy it a couple of days in a mild and unvarying temperature. Construct a cover for his redoubt in the same way and of the same material. Fill with stewed dried apples, aggravate with cloves, lemoH peel and slabs of citron; add two por tions of New Orleans sugar; then solder on the lid and set in a safe place till it petrifies. Serve cold at breakfast and invite your enemy. Recipe for German Coffee —Take a barrel of water and bring it to a boil; rub a chicory berry against a coffee berry, then convey the former into the water. Continue the boiling and evapo ration until the intensity of the flavor and aroma of the coffee and chicory has been diminished to the proper degree; then set aside to cool. Now unharness the remains of a once cow from the plow, insert them in a hydraulic press, and when you shall have acquired a tefispoonfulofthat pale blue juice which a German superstition regards as milk, modity the malignity of its strength in a bucket of tepid water, and ring up the breakfast. Mix the beverage in a cold cup, partake with moderation and keep a wet rag around your head to guard against over-excitement. Words ot Wisdom. Nothing can constitute good breeding that has not good nature for its founda tion. The only gratification a covetous man gives his neighbors is to let them see that he himself is no better for what he has than they are. In sad truth half of our forebodings about our neighbors are but our own wishes, which we are ashamed to utter in any other iorm. The worthiest people are most injured by slanderers; as we usually find that to be the best fruit which the birds have been pecking at. There is no policy like politeness; and a good manner is the best thing ih the world, either to get a good name or to supply the want of it. A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another man than this, that when the injury began on his part for the kindness to on ours. Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious, but an ill one more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in a prince; and virtue honorable, though in a peasant. Perjury is not only a wrong to a par ticular person, but treason against hu man society, subverting at once the foundation of public peace and justice, and the private security of every man’s life and fortune