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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
A . VI AH SCI! ILK ) ...
W. A. JUKSOIALK,/ Kdilors and Proprietors.
AVIS.
I have watched you lons, Avis-
Watched you so,
1 have found your secret out; -
And I know
That the restless ribboned things
Where your slope of shoulder springs,
Are but undeveloped wings
That will grow.
When you enter in a room
It is stirred
With the wayward, flashing light
Of a bird;
Aud you speak and bring with you
Leaf and sun-ray, bud and blue,
And the wind-breath and the dew,
At a word.
When you left me only now,
In that furred,
Tubed and feathered Polish dress,
I was spurred
Just to catch you, oh, my sweet,
By the bodice trim and neat,
•lust to feel yonr heart a-beat,
Like a bird.
Yet, alas, love’s light you deign
But to wear
As the dew upon the plumes,
And you care
Not a wit for rest or hush;
But the leaves, the lyric gush,
And the wing power and the rush
Of the air.
So I dare not woo you, sweet,
For a day,
Lest 1 love you in a flash,
As I may,
Did I tell you tender things
You would shake your sudden wings—
i'ou would start from him who sings,
And away.
A NEEDED REFORM.
Being Also Ihe Story of a Fire Screen.
“Plague on that screen !”
Standing with Mildred Weyman in
the door of her parlor, you would not
have thought her language too strong.
The room was of fair size, light and
lofty; wood-work heavy paneled oak ;
ceiling white ; walls a delicate misty
gray, with a green and gilt border;
window-shades gray, picked out with
gold, overhung with open white
drapery; carpet a small pattern in green
and oak ; table-covers to match, and
furniture that harmonized with the
prevailing tone. The offending screen
showed an impossible dog on a black
velvet background, bordered by a more
impossible vine of intensest green,
twining about a crimsou column. It
had been accounted a masterpiece in its
day, twenty years ago, when her eldest
sister slowly and painfully wrought it.
It had long been an eye-sore to Mildred,
but the great, empty tire-place looked
even worse, so she was fain to let it stay,
in default of anything better. She had
thought herself alone when her discon
tent found vent in the emphatic expres
sion I have recorded, but it reached
another ear, for Will Winston put his
head inside the hall with--
“What are you sweating about.
’Hilly r
“ I am not swearing, but that horrid
old tiling is enough to make me do it.”
TheD, her face brightening,
“O ! Will ! If you will help me, I
can get rid of it entirely.”
“ What is your notion ?”
“ First you must make me a frame of
smooth plank that v. ill just lit inside
the mantel. Let it come out over the
edges of the lire place and then fit it in
a sort of recess about four sizes
mailer.”
“ How much is a size ?’’
“ Something larger than your com
prehension. Bat come out to the work
bench. I’ll show yon what I want.”
They were cousins and great friends,
these young folks. Of course the world
insisted they were something more,
whereat they often laughed heartily.
Each liked the other better than any i
one else, but Will was quite sure that j
his w fe must not flirt an entrance as j
Milly would do, and Milly thought Will
the best fellow in the world, but so
dreadfully matter-of fset. They were
quite sgreed that they never could be
lovers, and I tbink were sincere, for
Milly did not mind his seeing hair in
crepe pins, an 1 Will was altogether in
different to the fact that sheknevhe
waxed his mustache. In all joint en
terprises, Milly, in virtue of her quick
cleverness, was engineer, and Will, the
brawny, muscular machine, was won
derfully obedient to her small hands.
She flitted betwixt parlor and work
shop with rule and square, measuring,
planning, and calculating, and her ideas
rapidly grew into tangible shape.
“ What is the matter, Will ?” she
asked, noticing a decidedly serpentine
mark that should have been straight.
“ ‘I want a chaw of terbacker ; and
that s what’s the matter with me.’ ”
“ J'he hateful stuff. It has almost
ruined your nerves now. What will
you be by the time you are fifty ?"
“ Don’t know. It’s awfnlly comfort
ing now. Could’nt get on without it.”
Awfully disoomfo’ ting to the rest of
the world. You tobacco-chewers can
have oo idea how disagreeable it is for
the girls to talk to you,”
“You do suppress it heroically. I
! ave never seen the least manifestation
of such a thing.”
"ter that mcclest speech, let’s go
to work again.”
“Well, this affair is ready for the
bottom. How must that be ?”
“ Saw two bits of plank, two by three
inches ; nail them outside on the lower
corners ; put a strip three inches wide
irom one to the other. Put the bottom
an inch from the lower edge of this;
let it slope to ths back to secure drain-
age.”
“ Drainage ? I don’t understand.”
“Do as I tell you. You will in
time.”
“ Will you leave this thing its natu
ral color ?”
“I’d like to stain it oak. As I can’t,
I must whitewash it.”
“ Whitewash rubs off.”
“ Not my sort,” which was this, and
I recommend it to ad in need of the
article, from Credit Mobilierists down,
or up; Into one gallon of sweet milk
stir powdered lime till a little thicker
than cream, add a teaeupful of tiiipen
t.ine, stir well and ajiply with a paint,
brmh, almost equal to white lead.
The “thing” was finished, and leaned
against the wall, white and staring,
in virtue of three coats.
“ What will she do with it ?” queried
Will.
“ Wait and see,” was the sententious
rejoinder.'
“ Can you get up at day-break to
morrow, and go to the swamp for moss
and ferns ?”
“I reckon so. If you will go with
me. I wouldn’t know what you want.”
“All sorts—high, loDg and creeping.
Any green thing that lives in shade,”
“All right; you shall have them.”
And true enough, Milly was wakened
before sunrise by the call, “ Here is
your trash—a whole cart-load,” and
running dowD, was soon able to realize
her ideal screen. The bed of the frame
was filled with earth and small stones.
In it were planted all sorts of fern, the
tall ones at the back, the low-growiDg
next, and the delicate viny creepers
trailing over the edge, then the surface
was covered with fresh green moss, and
a couple of luxuriant basket-ivies put,
one at each end, and trained to small
nails in the outer board, so as to make
a lovely living frame for the lovely
living picture. Even prosaic Will was
delighted with the result, while Milly
could have danced with joy. This
room was her especial pride. The
pictures, brackets etc., were all of her
choosißg. She had an idea of rooms
expressing character, and this day, of all
days, wanted hers to show a faultless
ta6te. She was a sensible girl, though
I cannot affirm that she “had no non
sense about her.” Her weakness for
poetry, which she wrote of the desper
ately sentimental kind, common with
people of healthy, highly-nervous or
ganism. Consequently she was shy of
having it seen, and few of her nearest
friends ever saw it. Will was pro
foundly ignorant upon the subject. He
could not understand, you know. Rural
Quill, Esq., was somewhat a celebrity,
wrote humorous articles that went the
rounds of the state press, and was
hailed wherever he went by the same
unquestioned authority, “Wit, Scholar,
Patriot, Poet,” and, indeed, only missed
being a great man by so many others
having been greater in his peculiar
line. He was editor of “ The Clarion,”
published in Lynesville, a live town,
some thirty miles away. Some mocths
ago Milly had sent him, with a letter,
quaintly apologetic for the “sin of
rhyme,” a poem, beginning—
“ Above the fitful, moauing sea
The wild winds, sigh and shiver,
O ! Winds! Blow home my love to me;
I 10-ro UJJ lwiw rv/10|Cl;“
and so on, through a dozen stanzas,
wherein several most heart-breaking
images, and all available rhymes for
Ever, Never, Quiver, and Shiver, were
completely used up. He had replied
assuring her that “ The sin of rhyme
is one not to be paliated here, nor par
doned in the world to come, but when
one can write as you do (and that one a
woman) then ’tis sinful to be silent,”
and published her poem as one “that
would do credit to the pages of our
best magazines,” and the correspond
ence and contributions had gone on,
increasing in vigor and inter si ty until
now. His last letter had said, “In
sach a case I too ‘ know no impossible,’
so five o’clock Thursday afternoon will
find me in presence of the Rose of
Brier Wcoi,” ard this was the fatal
Thursday. It was not without trepida
tion that she confided all the moment
ous affair to Will and she was relieved
that his only comment was, “Take
care that he don’t get scratched. No
rose without a thorn, you know.”
That was a busy day for Milly. She
filled the bouse with flowers till Will
declared “the garden had moved in
doors,” ratsacked the orchard for
choicest fruits and helped the cock get
up many and various dainty supper
dishes. At 4 o’clock she went to array
j herself in the freshest of muslins, and
I came down a perfect picture, with her
white draperies and tea rosea and helio
trope crowning her brown braids. She
was pardonably proud of her appear
ance. Even Will thought “there
wasn’t a girl in the whote country who
could hold a candle to Milly in that
rig.” How he liked to tease her, so
now he said : “I know you don’t al
low spittoons in the parlor, Milly, but
you’d better have one hunted up. I’ll
bet my head your editorial friend chewp,
and, with the eccentricity of genius, he
may take your new screen for a substi
tute.”
“Horrors! What profanation! It
would be unworthy a Feejee Islander.
No, sir ; whoever else allows it, my face
i9 set against it for all time. But hush;
there he comes.” And sure enough,
punctual to a minute, across the lawn
rolled a shining buggy, and from it
alighted the dapper aud distingue Rural
Quill.
When Milly recovered from the em
barrassed first greeting, she found her
self tete-a-tete with an undersized, mid
dle-aged person, whose noticeable
points were a general wriukled yellow
ness of complexion and a pair of dark,
kind;y eyes. He was fluent, courtly,
polished, none of your self-made men,
but the carefully manufacture 1 article.
Like his letters, he was extremely
complimentary. Had he not been a
little less than “all her fancy painted
him,” Milly would have declared him
“splendid;” but nothing so disposes
to captious criticism as unfulfilled ex
pectations.
Milly breathed more freely. Sapper
was over, and with it all danger of in
terruption. Papa Weyroßn slept the
sleep of the tired. Will eat on the
porch, whence he could see and hear
“The Mutual Admiration Society.”
I don’t know what was in his heart.
His month was full of tobacco. Sap
p-r had been over an hour, and Rural
Quill, Esq., was bard beset with the
peculiar craving teeth-on-edge sensa
tion boro of abstinence and eating,
known to all tobacco-chewers. He
strove against it valiantly, bat who
can master the giant, Habit? Milly
went for the writing-desk to show him
her last poem. She might be away ten
minutes. He would quiet his nerves
with a chew. But she was not. She
recrossed the threshhold almost before
the precious morsel was settled in place.
There was a very becoming tremor in
the white hand that held towaid him
the fairly written sheet. He gave it
back with a most superlative bow.
She must read it to him. Even its
music would be enhanced by her lips.
Milly did read it, then wandered on
into a discursive review of her favorite
poets, which, I am bound to say,
abounded more in quotations than com
mon sense—for woman’s memory is
always ahead of her judgment—but was
not wholly destitute of that invaluable
article. It was almost a monologue,
and her wonder grew and increased over
the sudden quenching of editorial bril
liance. Perhaps he was bored, but too
civil to interrupt her. She would
change the subject by a question to
which he must make a direct and
lengthy reply. She began :
“By the way, Mr. Quill, are you
ready to give me that ‘critical and ex
haustive analysis’ of my poetic powers
which your letter promised me ‘when
we met.’
“ Poor Mr. Quill, Just then he was
neither critical nor analytical. His
chair was on the hearth-rug ; between
him and the white-draped window sat
Milly, a seeming embodiment of the
pure, cool room, intently legarding
him. His mouth was full, yet speak he
must. The screen caught his eye.
Here was a way out of his dilemma.
The next moment tobacco juice went
splashing over moss and fern, and Rural
Quill was himself again, brimming
over with facts, fancies, and compli
ments. With them we have naught to
do. Milly listened with a decent grace,
but “ the gloss had departed, the magic
had flown.” Indeed, it were not too
much to say that “ the trail of the ser
pent was over them all.”
Rural Quill, Esq., never came back
to Brier Wood. Milly did ask him to
“ cail a?ain,” but so indifferently that
he wisely concluded to make himself
henceforth “conspicuous by his ab
sence in that region. As they watched
him on his winding, moon-lie way, Will
said :
“ His coming and goiug have con
“ What are they?”
“First, I must stop chewiug tobacco.”
“ Good ! A needed reform. And the
other ?”
“ That I must marry you.”
“ Milly’s answer to this, with the
moral of my story, I shall leave to the
individual discernment of each reader.
—Louisville Courier Journal.
Regular Eating.
Half of all ordiLary diseasi s would
be banished from civilized life and dys
pepsia become almostULknown if every
body would eat but thrice a day ot rtg
ular times and not an atom between
meals, the interval not being less than
five hours, that being the time required
to digest a full meal and pass it out of
the stomach.
If a person eats between meals the
process of digestion is arrested until
the last which has been eaten is brought
iuto the condition of the former meal,
just as if water is boiling and ice put in
the whole ceases to boil until the ice is
melted and brought to the boiling point
and then the whole boils together.
But it is the law of nature that all
food begins to decay, to rot, after ex- j
posure to heat and moisture for acer- I
tain time. If a meal is eaten and in |
two hours another, the whole remains !
undigested for several hours, before j
which time the rottening process com- ■
menees and the man has his stomach
full of carrion—the very idea of which
is horribly disgusting ; but that such is
the ease the unendurable odor of the
belching demonstrates.
As, then, all the food in the stomach
is in a rotten condition, in a state of
fermentive decay, it becomes unfit for
the purposes of nutrition and making
pure blood in the whole body; hence
the nerves, which feed on this impure !
and imperfect blood, are not properly
nourished, and, as a consequence, be
come diseased. “ They complain ” they
are hungry—and like a hungry man
they are peevish, fretful, restless. We
call it nervousness, and no one ever
knew a dyspeptic who was not restless,
fidgety, fretful, and essentially dis
agreeable and uncertain.
The stomach is mace up of a number
of muscles, all of which are brought
into requisition in the process of diges
tion. But no muscle can work always.
The busy heart is in a state of perfect
repose one-third cf its time. The eye
can wink twice in a second, but Ibis
could not be continued five minutes.
The haudsand fett must have rest, and
so with the muscles of lhe stomach ;
they can only rest when there is no
work for them to do—no food in the
stomach to digest. Even at five hours’
iuterval, and eating thrice a day, they
are kept constantly at work from break
fast until the last meal is disposed of,
usually ten o’clock at night. But mul
titudes eat heartily till -within an hour
of bed time ; thus, while the other por
tions of the body are at rest, the
stomach is kept laboring until almost
daylight, and made to begin again at
breakfast-time. No wonder is it that
the stomach is worn out —has lost its
power of action. Many girls become
dyspeptic before they are out of their
■teens in consequence of thsir being
about the house and nibbling at every
thing they lay their eyes on that is good
to eat. — Hall's Journal.
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 25. 1875.
Tom.
The New York Tribune has the fol
lowing appreciative article on boys :
Tom sluDghis satchel over his shoulder
and set off to school after his ten days’
holiday, just as unwillingly as when,
200 years ago, the melancholy Jaque3
made him immortal. His morning face
does not shine nowadays, however;
there are black dabs of burnt cork upon
it, after the minstrel performances
which he and the other fellows had last
night. They tone with a fine fitness
with limp shirt-collar and unlaced,
muddy shoes. The American school
boy does not whine either ; he shows
his inexorable prejudice against learn
ing and authority by banging his slate
against the hall walls, dashing his Caesar
at the pet poodle ; he beats a tantara
at his brother Percy’s door (asleep) after
last night’s opera annd supper at Del
monico’s, tumbles over Tot on the
stairs, gives her a bearish hug, and goes
out, slamming the door, and down the
street, not creeping by any means, but
shouting out, “The fox jumped over
the parson’s gate,” or other “chaste
aria,” stopping to talk to the police
man, with whom he is on friendly
terms, to follow a fire-engine down the
next street, or to swarm with a hundred
of his congeners about a dog fighter a
proceesior. The house falls into a
blissful lapse of silense as soon as he is
out of it; the late sleepers turn in
their beds with a sigh of relief; the
servants go aoout repairing damages
with many unspoken oaths ; Tom is no
favorite with them ; they see no use for
him but to “ eat like a glutton and to
order about his betters.”
The trouble is that nobody can find
use for Tom ; he is crude, noisy, mal-
apropos in the house, or the woods, or
the 6treet ; the one limb of the social
body awkward and ill-set; the uncouth
molecule for which even Tyndall could
find no work in nature. Out of doors
Tom is as sure a harbinger of a row or
a fight as a cough is of consumption ;
in doors he stamps out carpets, breaks
china, leaves the print of his paws on
the walls. The land before him may
be an Eden of bric-a-brac, but behind
him will be a howling wilderness. In
literature, nobody found a place for
him but great-hearted gentle Thack
eray, who loved and made much of the
lad. His sister, a sweet, Christian girl,
who teaches the little wretches in a
mission school with enthusiam. They
are picturesque through dirt and mis
ery ; but what cau you make of a crea
i jvM.ii C1U&1U& yjx jxu
non g iunge (and back with “Give us
the Mulligan Guards, Nancy ! ” Percy,
a brilliant young lawyer, marked in
society for his fine aesthetic taste, does
not endure Tom ; he holds him an un
mannerly cub, with neither heart nor
brains. His father, out of regard for
his corns, holds him at arm’s length, and
mentions him only to grumble at his
shoe and tailor bills. Percy had been
head of bis class in school—a career and
distinction waited for him ; but what
can be done with this dull, lazy fellow ?
Even his mother, since he put on trows
ers for knickerbockers, has uncon
sciously drawn away from the boy ; she
is a loving, gentle mother too ; when
he was a baby lying on her breast he
was a part of herself, a good deal
dearer than herself. But this half
man, half-child, with all his strange de
velopments of cruelty and roughness,
thoughts aud ways which are alien to
her own, appalls and perplexes her.
If she is a coarse woman she nags and
scolds him incessantly ; if she be of
gentle breeding she quietly leaves him
to himself. At school Tom herds with
the undistinguished rabble. There are
certain pale, broad-browed youths
who carry off the prizes at every exhi
bition day, and certain other broad
shouldered, ruddy fellows who are
masters on the ball-ground, but there
are 100 or 200 Toms remarkable in
neither brain nor body they, are neither
head nor foot of the roll; the masters
hear their halting lessons . drow’sily ;
they are worn out with a surfeit of
commonplace toy.
Meanwhile, nobody remembers that
Tom is Tom to himself—the only hero
he knows in the world—the one being
whose pleasure and hurts and chances
for to morrow he considers night after
night and day after day. You think
that his mind is full of the chunk of
cake he is munching, or the licking he
means to give Joe Peters. But the boy
knows quite well where he stands in
life; he sees all the impatient looks,
feels the act in every angry word. He
sees with a keen sight how he is some
how outside of the world of other peo
ple ; grown men and women have their
place aud work outlined and clear ; his
future and capability are all vague—a
mere nothing which nobody concerns
himself much about. There is a certain
immortal charm about the baby Tot.
She brought the glory with her when
she “ came from God, who is her home ”
Tom himself has a reverence and a pas
eionate love for the little thing; it
brings teats to his eyes when she hugs
oc kisses him, or when ho sees her
wateliiDg at the window for him. But
the charm aud glamour were worn off
him long ago ; even his mother dees not
see it now. He does not know what can
be the matter with him ; he does not
know why, when he would be graceful
I and manly like Percy, he is only prig
! gieh and ridiculous ; he dees not under*
! stand why the problems which come by
! nature to the other fellows make his
| heavy brain ache. The dullest, rough
est Tom does not want to be dull o
j rough. He is in the groping, transition
stale whtn he cannot appear the child
he was or the man he will be; he per
petually essays to be something, to
j stand firmly somewhere in the world—
lis by turns humble and conceited. God
I knows how bitter the consciousness of
his inferiority ia to the lad, how often
he would like to go back to lay his head
on his mother’s breast, or saw his Viabv
praying at her knee, if he could know
that she felt just the same to him as
long ago. But now, as he stands at the
parting of ways for h’S whole life, he is
left alone; mother and God seem far
from him. Must we spend all our good
fellowship on Ihe man ? All our tender
ness on the baby? Have we nothing
for Tom ?
Elaborate Entertainment.
Few things not absolutely essential to
happiness add more to the enjoyment of
life than social interchange of evening
visits among friends and neighbors.
Indeed, we are not quite sure that it is
tot essential to happiness as it is, for
wo can live to good purpose and pleasure
withont many of our luxuries, without
fine clothes, costly pictures, splendid
jewels, but we cannot live to any use at
all without frieDds and the upbubbling
of friendly emotions and the fruition of
ideas that they arouse. Our natures
would grow dry as husks if oar feelings
were kindled only for our own immedi
ate home circle, and the very apotheo
sis of selfishness would take place with
us isolated from outside interests and
love of our kind. Nor would our intel
lects fare much better than our emo
tional natures; for if genins itself is an
intermittent fountain, as Goethe said,
the source of ordinary thought and
fancy must be quite as capricious, and
our bucke's must need all the replen
ishing from the wells of our neighbors
that can be had. If it were not for the
perpetual weaving among us of the
warp and woof of each other’s ideas,
the varying views of things when sien
from each other’s stand-point, we might
as well be living solitary in the caves of
the desert or on the tops of pillars in
the town for all the good we should do
to ourselves or the world either. For
really no one helps himself without
helping the world, too, in its great, on
ward match toward a civilization that,
we may hope, shall be as much higher
than this as this is higher than the bar
barous old days, before those giant
monsters, steam and electricity, were,
in the language of the orators, har
nessed to the car of progress.
Skill we do not mean to be under
stood as advising or encouraging frivo
lous gadding to the neglect of some
duties, but, first assuming that home
duties are already discharged, ae the
for lesser matters, we urge tne cultiva
tion of a social spirit to enliven the
evenings and to afford nucleus of harm
less enjoyment. We all know how
keen that enjoyment can be--the bright
discussion that en ightens even the
listener who will not take the trouble to
think; the latest news, with its gay
gossiping ; the eager game, the song, the
reading, pretty toilets, pleasant man
ners, cordial Wordsof hosts aud friends;
the cheery separation ; the lying down
to sleep at the end of it all, well pleased
with the well-rounded day; the sense
that such evenings ought to come twice
as often as they do and that we mean
to have them.
The Cruelty of Monkeys.
An amateur naturalist, writing of the
fondness of cruelty for its own sake ob
servable in the Inman species, says :
“To refer to the striking similarity of
this passion in man to that which is man
ifested by monkeys, is not, of course, to
explain its origin ; but I am quite sure
that it is in the monkeys that tbis ex
planation is to be sought. Fvery one
knows that thee e animals show the keen
est delight ia wantonly tortuiing others,
but every one does not know how
much trouble an average monkey will
put himself to in order that he may
gratify this taste. One example will
suffice. A friend who baa lived a long
time in India tell-* me that he has not
unfrequently seen monkeys feigning
death, for an hour or two at a time, for
the express purpose of inducing crows
and other carniverous birds to approach
within grasping distance ; and when
one of the latter was caught, the de
lighted monkey would put it to all kinds
of agonies, of which plucking alive
seemed to be the favorite. As lam not
aware that any other animal exhibits
this instinct of inflicting pain for its
own sake (the case of a eat with a
mouse, belonging, I think, to another
category), I believe, if its origin is ever
to receive a scientific explanation, it will
be found in some way connected with
monkey life.”
Bores.
There is probably no one who could
not tell you volumes of experiences and
sufferings from the persistency of bores,
although every one’s idea of them \
varies. The man who replied, when ]
a s ked what a bore wa, “A feilow who l
talks about himself when you want to '
talk about yourself,” made the most
comprehensive classification of the kind
yet imagined, aud - hey all, with slight j
variations, come under this heading, |
for if they do not talk about themselves
it is about some hobby of their own
that they hold forth. Tnero is the
scientific bore, “ On man and his func
tions he talks with a smile.” I never
meet one of these that I do not remem
ber the snub administered to a person
of this description by one of the moat
prominent and wittiest, of New York
diners out. The boie having button
holed him, was pouring forth hi 9 theo
ries, and ended with the assertion that
the oyster was the equal of a man. “ I
hold,” said Mr,—, “ that it ia the supe
rior, for an oyster sometimes shuts up,”
with which extinguisher lie gently dis
engaged himself from the eiutck&B of
his adversary.
Neglected Children.
A. child, coming into the world by no
volition of its own, surely has a right
to claim the care aud protection of its
father and mother. They are not re
leased from this claim by any exterior
circumstance. Whether they live in
Rag Fair or Fifth avenue, they are
equally bound te take the best care
they can of their own offspring. To do
Rag Fair justice, it is not half so anx
ious to shirk the responsibility in the
matter as Fifth avenue often is.
No matter how many subordinates
your purse can employ, you are your
self, being a parent, your child’s first
and best guardian. But society busi
ness and the church make many de
mands upon your time. Even so.
Meet them if you cau ; but if you must
choose which to give your second-best
to, aud which to let go by the board, let
home and children have the freshness,
the first of the day, and the closest
brooding of the heart.
I have known a family of dear
little children, clothed in purple and
fine linen, and faring, like the man in
the parable, sumptuously every day,
who were almost as badly off as Lazarus
in the same. They were wholly under
the care and influence of illiterate,
vulgar and unprinciplied servants, their
mother being too much engaged with
company, friends and benevolent enter
prises to do more than give them a kiss
once or twice a day, and sometimes
when they vexed her a scolding or a
slap. The mother, a brilliant and edu
cated and most fascinating lady. By
and by she is ashamed of her children,
who are boors, unpolished, unmannerly
and ungrammatical. What wonder?
They were neglected, and nothing else
could have been expected. Seven times
one are seven. You cannot make it
nine, to save your life.
Some mothers neglect their children
through the care they take of their out
ward appearance. Come what will, they
must have so many littie frocks, and so
many little aprons, so many pies and
cakes too, on the table, and so much
luxury in the furnishing and adoring of
their homes. Somebody and something
must be put off and turned aside, and
it is very likely to be the little Kitty or
Johnny, who is, after all, the occasion
of the parents’ greatest pride and anx
iety ! It is a terrible thing, though,
when you really sit down and think
abont it, that a child, living, breathing,
sentiment and imm -rtal, should ever be
nnnouLi'ii/I io 4* I—T 1 —T 1
a center-piece tor vam display!
The class uu upu tne wiiuiogct tiio
least notice taken of them, and are of
tenest snubbed and hurt, are the boys.
The ordinary, commonplace ones, I
mean, who are especially brilliant in
nothing, and who are at the awkward,
obtiusive age, when their feet and hands
are big, and they seem to have a talent
for forever beiDg in the way. Their
very faces have loßt the beanty of
babyhood, and have not gained the
meaning of manhood. Nobody has
much patience with them, and the house
is eo much stiller when they are out of
it that even mother does not ask
where they are when they slink out of
sight, perhaps, after supper, God help
them ! Many a boy might be saved
from a period of wild and reckless dis
sipation if only there was somebody
who could see the better part of him,
and care enough for him to endure the
rougher outside and help him along.
There are plenty of neglected boys who
wear good warm clothes and have shoes
on their feet. Is there one that we
know? If so, let us take compassion
on him.
Cause* of the Rise in told.
The causes of the movement are not
difficult to define. Ever since the
panic, the rate of interest has been so
lew and the caution among investors so
decided that an unusual preference has
been given to government securities
both by private individuals and finan
cial institutions. Prices of bonds have
thus been kept above the European
quotations, which have been depressed
by the unsettled condition of the Lon
don and continental money maikets,
and Un.ted States securities have, from
this cause, been steadily flowii g home
for several months past. The amounts
of bonds thus returned must have been
very large. The roffu* is by no means
at its height just now, and yet,last week,
one lot of new fives of $700,000 was re
ceived, and the week previous one par
cel of $600,000 of the same class of
bonds arrived. Besides this class of
securities, some considerable amounts
of railroad bonds have been returned
from Germany. This reflux of invest
ments has kept exchange high at the
time when rates are usually the lowest,
and we have had to send out possibly
$25,000,000 more of gold than we other
wise should, to pay for securities which
we had regarded as having found a per
manent resting place in other countries.
Such a movemennt would hardly have
been deemed possible in anticipation ;
and ils occurrence opens cur eyes to a
new source of uncertainty in the <x
changes. At present, we see no symp
toms of its early cessation. The enor
i mens issues of obligations made by
France have caused a continuous shift
ing of ecculilies ever since. The Eu
| ropean investment markets have been
j and still are unsettled, and possibly also
j are overcrowded with issues in the
hands of negotiator and seehiDg a final
resting place among investors. And
yet the coinage operations of Germany
and the singular accumulation of specie
I in the bank of France are oaueiug an
| unsettled feeling in the great money
| markets which is calculated to force se
-1 curities on the markets. Just now,
j Paris ia negotiating a loan of $50,000,-
j 000, the making room for which is like
| ly to cause some other investments to
be patted with. So long, therefor?, as
the market rate for money eon times
here la2 per cent, above the quotations
in the European markets, it would seem
that we must stand exposed to thia re
turn of securities. The prospect is not
a welcome one ; for it implies a fnr her
outflow of specie, with consequent fluc
tuations in the gold premium and in
values generally, which are anytling
but wholesome in their effects on b mi
nces.—N. Y. Bulletin.
The Senators.
The “points” of some of the United
States senators are pithily summarized
by a Washington correspondent. Conk
ling is the senatorial Adonis. When he
was in the house the young ladies used
to sit in the galleries and wish they h id
a lock of the dear little curl that adoros
his brow, and, as it is thinner now than
it used to be, it is probably even dearer.
It is rather singular that the throe
bachelors of the senate should be the
favorite presiding officers—-Wilson, e.>
officio ; Anthony, pro tern. , and Ferry,
of Michigan, in default of either. An
thony is the handsomest; still, it is not
always beauty that wins. Gordon, the
confederate general, is a fine-looking,
soldierly fellow. Bayard, of Delaware,
is the third generation of senators in bis
family. Frelinghnysen is something cf
a swell. Edmunds, his neighbor, is ths
most quarrelsome of senators. Thnrma 1
looks and moves like Beecher. Dorsey
is only thirty-three years old, the “baby ’
of the senate. Cameron is the oldest
senator. Dorsey, Allison and Oglesby
have young and pretty wives. Stewart
and 1 Jones are two poor, impecunious
miners, with only a few millions apiece
—Jones especially, whose income per
month is $250,000. Tipton is a funny
little fellow, Sehurz an admirable speak
er, but Fenton has the most courtly
manners in the senate. Hamlin, of
Maine, always wears a dress coat, never
an overcoat. Flanagan, of F/anagan’t
Mills, Texas, is a jolly old fellow, who
says “whar” end “thar,” and rouses
the echoes generally when he speaks.
Robertson wears jewelry of fabulous
value—emerald sleeve-buttons worth a
fortune, and diamond studs that would
make tne idols of India jealous.
When People Think of Suicide.
The influence of age upon suicide is
a study of more than speculative inter
est on account of its practical bearings,
"yLstJM §asg UHIjL t¥SW. ; “By ag*e
is meant the critical periods of life.
These periods haviDg many components
besides the mere fact of years, it is ap
parent that what we have to examine is
a many-sided phenomenon, including
together with it the advance in life, the
workings of physiological, mental, and
sociological causes. It has been lately
examined by Dr. O’Dea, and it appears
that the maximum of suicides of both
sexes occurs between the ages of 25 and
55. Previously to the 25th year there
is a sudden increase from 2 suicides be
tween the ages of 5 and 10 to 136 be
tween 20 aud 25. After 55 the ten
dency to suicides declines, but more
gradually than it rose, except to 65,
where the number increases from 81 to
83—a rise so slight, however, as to be
little worth considering.
There are, therefore, three suicidal
periods in life : those of organic and
mental growth, of organic and mental
completion, and of organic and mental
decline. In the first the chart shows 80;
in the second, 942, and in the third, 311.
Comparing the periods in round num
bers, it may be said that they are as 1
for childhood and adol scence to 12 for
adult life, and to 4 for the years of
bodily and mental decay.
The influence of sex and its attendant
ciroumstances upon suicides at the dif
ferent periods of life is shown upon the
charts. With females, as among males,
there is a sudden and abrupt rise until
the 25th year is reached. This rise is
continued to the 35th year, at which
the maximum of suicides occur amoDg
women. The period from the 25th to
the 35th year corresponds to that of the
greatest pressure from domestic
troubles and responsibilities, and also
with the greatest activity of the mater
nal functions. The line thence de
scends abroptly to the 45fch year,
whence it rises to the 50th, the critical
period of mature female life, and then
goes down, down, uuta it f^ c
level from which it started.
There are, therefore, two culminating
points, and while the line on the male
chart is undulating and sustained, that
on the female chart is vertical and ab
rupt. The lower of the male culmi
nating points is the higher of the fe
male, and contrariwise, the lower of the
female is the higher cf the male.
These charts do net show the relative
frequency of suicides among the two
sexes. The ratio of suicides to popu
lation in the United States is (for the
period covered by the last decennial
census) 25 to 100,000 among males, and
3to 100,000 among females. The only
periods at which suicides are nearly
equal for both sexes is from 15 to 20
yeaiSj during which the number of boy
suicides was 34, of girl suicides 32.
After this the number of suicides
among males is much greater than
among females.
First juoveiy Being (to clever pianist
after performance): “ O, how charming,
Herr La Bemoiski! There’s such color
in your Fortissimoes ! ” Second Lovely
Being : “Such roundnes3 of modeling
in your Piauissimoes ! ! ” Third Lovely
Being: “Such perspective in your
Crescendoes !! !” Fourth Lovely Be
ing : “ Such chiaroscuro in yonr Dimin
nendoes !! ! ! “ Fifth Lovely Being;
“Such anatomy in your Legatees !!!!!”
etc., etc., etc. Clever is pianist be
wildered, but not displeased.— Punch .
VOL. 16-NO. R.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
Self gratification is the high-press
ure power that keeps a man going, and
duty is only the donkey-engino that he
works at interva’s.
Douglas Jerrold used to say of fem
inine writers, “If you once dip a
woman's finger in the ink pot she will
go on writing forever.”
Sixty thousand Japanese in Yeddo
are studying the English language and
tearing their hair over its torturing
idioms.
Never trust with a secret a married
man who loves his wife, for he will te .1
her, and she will tell her sister, and her
sister will tell every body.
Iron rails at rest oxidize more rap
idly than these upon which traveling
is going forward. The molecular vi
bration prevents rust.
There are 24,000 idiots in this coun
try, who are acknowledged as each.
The majority of people will regard
these figures as being a low estimate.
In three years two rats become 646,-
808, and yet the druggists look with
suspicion on a man who asks for a
dime’s werth of strychnine.
When a young man in Patagonia falls
in love with a girl he lassoes her, drags
her home behind his horse, and that’s
all the marriage ceremony necessary.
It is time to stop talking about the
softening influence of woman. A Mas
sachusetts man who has four wires has
just been sent to the penitentiary for
stealing horses.
The deputy constable, appointed to
look after the children employed in the
factories of Massachusetts, reports that
fully 60,000 children are growing up in
ignorance on account of their being set
to work at too early an age.
Gladstone’s retirement from public
life will be sweetened, it is said, by the
admiration of Queen Victoria, who hr s
offered a peerage in her own right to his
wife, and will confer a baronetcy upon
the young Gladstone. This is London
gossip.
A total eclipse of the sun will oocur
on April 5. Ao the king of Siam is the
only potentate advantageously situated
to see the spectacle, he has kindly in
vited British, American, and other as
tronomers to dine with him on that day
and bring along their instruments.
One of the reasons why a fight fre
quently occurs in Montana churches
sit on' the' backs of tiie
chairs and frequently ejaculate—
" lUBli D llgUl, UIU UUDO r _ .
you!” “He’s a book sharp!’’etc.
Sometimes the ministers get riled, and
there’s where the disturbance comes
in.”
Gambling has reached such a pitch
in Nevada that the legislature has at
last concluded to legislate on the sub
ject, which is all that ever will be done,
probably. The proposed law is partic
ularly severe on faro, monte, roulette,
lansquenette, rouge et noire, keno, ron
do, ton fan, red, white and blue, strap
game, California dice game, all of which
ar in full blast in silver-baireled Ne
vada.
Astronomer Bartlett, of Battle
creek, is circulating this bit of gossip
about the big dipper : “ One hundred
thousand years ago the bright stars
which at present form this familiar con
stellation were arranged in the form of
a large cross ; and one hundred thou
sand years hence they will assume the
appearance of an elongated 4 dipper
different in shape from tbe one now
seen—and stretching over a wide extent
of the celestial vault. ”
The royal baby begins to notice
ohings, and to handle ’em, too! Tae
other day he reached for the paregoric
bottle and smashed it on his pa’s nice
center-table, and then tried to make a
canal by running his finger in a circle
‘all round about.” Then Edinburgh
went in and borrowed his wife’s old kid
clipper, and when he came back there
was considerable excitement for a few
moments. Men do that port of thing
so awkwardly.— N. Y. Mail.
Some carious customs are still extant
in the Spreewald villages in Wendish
Prussia when the head of the family
dies. For instance, if the deceased
should have chanced to be a bee-keeper,
one of the family will go to the hive,
ai'd, striking the comb, will exclaim,
“Bees, arise, your master is dead!”
uu iuo * : -o the funeral, toe,
the men proceed to the cattle-shear,
and after causing the animals to get
u oon their legs, and placing cheese be
fe re them, will solemnly announce to
them that the body is about to be taken
away.
A recent letter from Lexington, Va.,
tc the Richmond Dispatch says : “ Val
entine has been here for several days
oenf erring with the memorial committee
in reference to the final arrangements
for placing his beautiful sepulchral
monument over the grave of GBn. Lee.
It is hoped that foil arrangements can
Imi made, and the statue inaugurated on
tie 12th of October next—the anniver
sary of Gen. Lee’s death—with an ora
tion by ex-Presidont Davis, and appro
piiate ceremonies, participated in by nil
tbe old confederates who can gather
there. It will be a matter of general
interest to mention that fresh flowers
ht ve never been wanting to deck Gen.
Loe’s tomb. From all parts of-the
country exquisite wreathe, crosses, an
chors, etc., are sent, and fair hands in
Lexington are continually fashioning
evergreens, immortelles, etc., into the
m >st beautiful decorations for the tombs
of the general, Mrs. Lee, and Miss
Allies. The beautiful custom of having
a student-guard tc- keep daily watch and
wi.rd at the tomb is still kept up, and
the general’s c-ffije is still preserved
jn at as he left it on the day of his fatal
illness.