Newspaper Page Text
b 1 HE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
A. lUARSIt’M.I.K ) _ _
W. A. Kltor and Proprietor*.
JUK UOK V.
The murmur of a waterfa l
A mile away,
The rustle wbea a robiu lights
Uj>on a spiay.
The Upping of a lowland stream
, On dipping boughs.
The sound of glazing from a herd
Of gentle cows,
The echo from a wooded hill
Of cnckoo’g call,
The quiver through the meadow grass
At evening fall;
Such music is not understood
By any school;
And when the brain is overwrou -ht
It hath a spell
Beyond all human skill and ]>ower
To make it well.
The memory of a kindly word
Far long gone by,
The fragrance of a fading flower
Sent lovingly,
The gleaming of a sudden smile
Or sudden tear,
The warmer pressure of the hand,
Tbe ton© of cheer,
The hush that means “ I cannot speak,
But I have heard!”
The note that only bears a verse
From God’s own word ;
Such tiny things we hardly count
As ministry;
That givers deeming they have showr
Scant sympathy;
But when the heart is overwrought
Oh, who can tell
The power of such tiny things
To make it well?
TOO LATE.
“ Clear out! ” **
“ Black ’em for five cents ? ”
“ Clear out, I say ! ” and (he irate
tradesman advanced towards the boy
ish intruder with threatening gesture.
1 he 'atter, little more than an infant in
age and stature, retreated through the
door, but undaunted by his ignominious
expulsion from the store, calmly seated
himself on his little battered box near
the edge of the sidewalk, and deter
minedly accosted each passer-by with
his curt “ Black yer boots ?” It was a
cold February day, and the ground was
covered wit) s ow. The people were
?r rrying to and fro, each individual
muffled to his eyes in warm raps yet
shivering from the blasts of the cold,
penetrating wind. Hundreds passed
and repassed, but the persistent boot
black received no look, no sign, no
word. His small, slender form was so
meagerly clad that each breath of wind
seemed to inflate his loosely-fitting
garments and bathe his naked body in
cold air. The cast-off jfcket of some
boy of larger growth performed Lripple
service of vest coat and overcoat. A
pair of heavy pantaloons, held at the
waist by a buckled strap, were tucked
snugly into the legs of capacious boots
long since discarded by some poor
workingman, whose toughened feet
even shrank from such exposure as ihe
multiplied gaps in the mildewed lecher
made unavoidable. A rudely-made
cloth cap gave its protecting warmth to
the boy’s head and ears, and a ropy
ooktng scarf was wound closely about
ins throat; his hands had no covering
save tbe flapping wristbands of a soiled
cotton shirt, and such free ventilation
provided in the torn pockets of his
coat, that even those customary havens
afforded but little comfort to his red,
fast stiffening fingers. Truly a pitiful
object was Little Dan as he sat there
fiiuching, half fainting in the bitin"
atmospnere. Yet, but half the
was tohl by his tattered garments.
Ihe pinched end sunken features, the
wistful look of those blue eyes, and the
weary, drooping attitude of that attenu
ated figure needed no language to ex
plain that hunger, as well as cold, had
here a most unfortunate victim. The
bul could not have been much over ten
vears of age; his face was fair and clean,
its expression denoting a frank and manly
disposition. For over an hour he sat
there in font of the store from which,
he had been so mercilessly driven forth,
addressing every male pedestrian with
B hort, business-like interrogation,
I>lack yer boots? only five cents!”
He received no responses—not even so
much as a brief negative. Some men
who strode by in warm “ arctics,”
ooited down carelessly upon the plucky
i fct-le fellow, and smiled at the absurdity
j tl > e idea of stopping in the street to
have their boots blacked on such a day.
Others wondered why “the lazy little
urchin ” did not occupy his time m the
more sensible vocation of selling news
paper's ; and the proprietor cf the store,
happening to look ont of his window,
caught sight of the ragged bootblack,
and wondered why the police did not
take care of such vagabonds. At last
there came alone one young man more
observing than the rest. He saw that
the poor boy was suffering from cold
and hunger, and his heart was touched.
•Stopping, he said :
“ Well, little fellow, isn’t this pretty
cold work for you ? ”
“ Kind’r, sir,” responded the boy, as
with an effort he dropped on his knees
and pushed forward the box. “Have
yer boots blacked ? ”
“ tNo, I gness not,” laughingly re
plied the young man. “ It’s a little too
cold to stand out here.”
“Black ’em quick, sir!” said the
urchin, looking longingly up into the
eyes of his long-waited for customer.
“What is your name!” asked the
gentleman, paying no attention to the
box which had been pushed close to his
feet.
“Dan, sir.”
“How long have you been sitting
here, Dan ? ”
“ ’Bout an hour.”
“Why don’t you peddle papers ? No
body wants to get their boots blacked
on the street, such weather as this.”
“Please, sir, le’ me? I’ll black cm
for five cents—for three cents,” per
sisted Dan, intent on securing a job.
“No! Why don’t you sell papers?
You would make more money,” re
peated the gentleman.
“ I hain’t no money to bny papers,”
replied the little fellow.
“ Oh, that’s the trouble, is it ? What
would you do with ten cents if I snould
give it to you?” pleasantly inquired
the youDg man. As he said this, he
drew off odb of his gloves, unbuttoned
his coat and took out a well-filled pock
etbook.
“I would get something to eat,” an
swered Dan, arising to his feet with
alacrity.
“ Are you hungry.”
“ Yes, sir, bnt I don’t want nothin’
for myself. Mv mother is sick, and
tuere ain’t nothin’ in the house for
her!”
“That is too bad,” murmured the
philanthropic gentleman as he fumbled
in his pocketß for some change ; there
were nothing bnt bills in his wallet.
From one pocket to another went his
hands—little Dan’s eyes following each
motion with a hungry expectancy--
until tbe last jtocket hail been searched
and no currency, no pennies could be
found. “ Well, now I am sorry, my
little man”—and a tone of real regret
accompanied the words—“but I have
nothing less than a five dollar bill.”
Little Dan’s eves dropped and a sus
picions quiver hung for an instant
about his lips But he was not chick
en hearted and was no beggar. The
tears that started were forced back and
the rebellious sob was choked down.
With a determined toss of the head, he
stood erect and answered his departing
friend’s kind words—“ Am sorry, Dan,
but I may see yon to-morrow ” —with a
simple “Thank, yen, sir,”
For a few moments longer little Dan
lingered on the street, vainly anpealing
to the passers-by for some employment.
But he met with nothing but rebuffs
and hard words. Two ladies, attract
ed by his odd appearance, paused to
ask* him why he didn’t go home. “ I
want to earn some money first,” he re
plied ; “my mother is sick!” The
ladies exchanged significant glances.
“Too bad !” said one to the other, as
they walked away, “that children so
young should be taught the tricks of
professional beggars.” Soon a police
man touched the half-frozen boy on the
shoulder and bade him “move on”;
and, in obedience to the stern mandate’
little Dan picked up his box and wear
ily trudged away.
n
“Starvation Hospital” the place was
commonly called. It was one of those
dilapidated and neglected frame tene
ments which swarm with human beings
very much as a wharf hole swarms with
rats. The building had been erected
years before and used as a planiDg-mill,
but when trade and enterprise departed
from the neighborhood the old structure
was hastily altered into a lodging house,
and after its owner had derived in rents
therefrom treble the total cost of the
building, the place was permitted to go
to decay, and each year it sunk lower in
the grade of human habitation. None
but the most destitute could be induced
to live there, and yet its barren, ill
kept rooms were always full.
In one of the rooms, lighted only by
a small attic window, and approached
by a series of ricketty stairways, and
dark, vermin-infested corridors, a woman
lay dving of consumption. Exposure
and want had brought the disease and
nurtured it so assiduously that death
seemed bnt to toy with its Victim. The
room was small and destitute of furni
ture ; nothing save the low iron bed
stead, upon which reposed the emaciated
form of the dying woman, was there to
relieve the barrenness of the apartment.
A bent and broken candlestick stood
empty upon the broad, wooden mantel
piece. The brick fireplace underneath
contained a bed of ashes—nothing
more. Through the broken window
sash the winter winds came at will, and
found a passive unresisting subject for
their cruel spoit on the straw-covered
eot.
The sound of shuffling footsteps along
the corridor at la?t aroused the woman
from her lethargic condition, and caused
her to turn her heed eagerly towards
the door, as if ixpecting some pleasant
arrival. The iron latch was lifted and
the door swung open, admitting the
small form of little Dan. He advanced
into the room softly, placed his box on
the floor at the head of the bed, and
kneeling down upon it leaned over and
kissed the wan cheek of the invalid,
saying in a low voice, “How do you
feel, mother?” The woman, whoseeyes
were fastened intently on the face of
her son, murmured, as with a feeble
motion she stroked his dark, curly hair,
“Poor Dan, you have been unsuc
cessful ! ’ ’
“ Yes ; bad luck to-day, mother !”
answered the lad, endeavoring to speak
cheerfully, but unable to suppress the
sob that struggled up from the tender
heart, touched to the quick at sight of
his mother’s patient suffering; little
Dan’s lips quivered painfully for an
instant and then, hurrying his head in
the thin coverlet, he gave expression to
his feelings by a flood of tears. “Ob,
mother,” he cried, “we are starving.”
The only answer that came from the
lips of the agonized mother—herself
nearly beyond the reach of the tortures
of hunger—was, “My poor child! my
poor child !” and encircling his neck
with one area, she drew him close to
her, whil6 with her other hand she
sought to cover him with a corner o'
the well-worn blanket, which constituted
her sole protection from the blasts of
air that came in through the broken
window.
“No, mother! no!” exclaimed the
little fellow, resolutely starting up from
his kneeling posture, and carefully re
placing the blanket over his mother,
“ you mustn’t do that. I am not very
cold, and besides, I can build a fire,”
sayirg which he drew from his pocket a
match and a bit of crumpled paper,
which he held triumphantly before his
mother’s eyes. Then he proceeded to
demolish bis unprofitable blacking box
by kicking in the sides and palling the
pieces apart with his hands. Soon he
had quite a pile of splinters, and laying
them carefully over his bit of paper on
the dead ashes in the fireplace, he set
fire to them, and a crackling, cheerful
blaze sprang up as tbe reward for his
pains. “Look, mother, isn’t that
splendid ?” he exclaimed, turning eagerly
to receive his mother’s approbation, for
getful for the moment of all his troubles
in the glowing heat of the burning box.
A sad, tender smile rested on the
mother’s face, and she was about to
reply, when the door was pushed open,
and a lady’s voice was heard to say,
“Mercy on us ! what a place !” and then
the door was thrown wide open, and
two richly dressed ladies crossed the
threshold. It required little observa
tion to tell them that tney stood in the
presence of sickress and destitution.
They were two active members of the
Percival Square Church Relief society,
and they had come to seek worthy sub
jects for their Christian charity. Lit fie
Dan got np from the floor, and with
instinctive politeness motioned for them
to draw nearer to the fire. “We ain’t
got no chairs !” he said ; “ but we are
so glad you have come.”
Mrs. Zealous and Miss Prim ex
changed commiserating glances, and the
former, turning to Dan’s mother, in
quired feelingly, “Are you in great
need of anything ?”
“ We have nothing, madam, but what
you see here,” was the answer. “My
son and myself have not tasted food
since yesterday morning.”
“ And mother,” interposed little Dan,
“ is very sick.”
“ This is suffering, indeed!” said
Mrs. Zealous to her companion. “We
must do something to relieve these peo
ple !”
“I do not want for myself,” proceeded
the dying woman ; “ I shall i oon be
beyond the nfed of earthly care; but
my poor boy ! please take care of him,
ladies ; please keep him from wanf !”
“ Most assuredly we will, my good
woman, mid we will help you also,” re
sponded Miss Prim, with some warmth.
“ Mrs. Zealous, we must bring this case
to the attention of the society without
delav.”
“Yes, it shall receive attention the
very first thing to-morrow, and I am
sorry that I have no charge with me
row, for I suppose you are hunery, my
little man ?” continued Mrs. Zealous,
placing her hand on Dan’s head.
“Yes’m, purty hungry,” answered
the boy, with a look full of disappoint
ment and grief.
“ Well, keep up your courage,” cheer
ily responded Miss Prim, as the two
ladies turned to depart, “ wa will come
to-morrow and bring you something.”
Little Dan made u o reply. Long
suffering had made him patient and
brave ; and, as the two votaries of char
ity descended the ricketty stairways to
the street, he silently crept to the head
of his mother’j eot, and kneeling on the
floor wearily laid his head beside hers
on the pillowless straw tick.
m.
“The meeting will please come to
order !” called the dignified matron who
officiated as president of the regular
weekly meetings of the Percival Square
Church Relief society.
A score or more of fashionably attired
ladies wire seated in the comfortably
furnished parlor of the prosperous
charch. The prolonged cold weather
had afforded ample opportunities to the
members of the society to pursue their
charitable missions, and each lady had
some interesting narrative to tell rela
tive to the suffericg caused by poverty
in the lower regions of the large city.
“At our last meeting, ladies,” spoke
the president, “a resolution was adopted
providing for a systematic plan of char
itable work. The city was divided into
districts, and to each member was as
signed one district, with the understand
ing that she should confine herself to
that particularly defined field of labor.
We are now assembled for the purpose
ef listening to your several reports, and
to act upon whatever recommendations
may be made concerning the appropria
tion and expenditure of money.”
“Mrs. President!” said o.ie of the
ladies, “before you proceed any fur
ther, I desire to say to the ladies of the
society that my time is so fully occupied
by household and social duties that I
find it absolutely necessary to sever my
connection with this excellent society.
I, therefore, wish to resign my d.strict
to some lady who can devote more at
tention to the good work.”
“ And I, also, Mrs. President, shall
be compelled to give up this Christian
work,” regretfully remarked a second
lady. “Such incessant exposure dur
ing this severe cold weather is injurious
to my health.”
“ I hope,” urged Mrs. Zealous, “that
the ladies will not withdraw from the
society. They are both valuable mem
bers, and we need their co-operation.”
A dignified silence followed Mrs.
Zealous’ remarks, and then the presi
dent said : “ The first thing in order
wi'l be the reception of reports from
those ladies to whom were assigned dis
tricts at the last meeting.”
Another brief period of silence en
sued, and Mrs. Precise arose and read
from her pearl tablets the Dames of half
a dozen poor families that she had
visited and found to be deserving of
aid. She asked for an order on the
society’s treasurer for twenty dollars,
to be expended in the purchase of food
and clothing. The appropriation was
unhesitatingly made.
Mrs. Modestone, a gentle faced lady,
who occupied a seat in the back-ground,
then narrated a touching incident of
poverty and distress which had come
under her observation the day before.
She had thought it best to relieve the
poor family’s sufferings without draw
ing upon the funds of the society.
Mrs. Closefist wanted two dollars to
buy a pair of shoes for her washer
woman’s little girl, whom, she averred,
needed them very much. The appro
priation was made.
Mrs. Quicktempar regretted that other
imperative engagements had prevented
her from giving any attention to her
district, but the next week she hoped
to be able to devote almost entirely to
the good cause.
“Mrs. President,” interposed Mrs.
Zealous, “ Miss Prim and myself took
the liberty yesterday of enoroaching
upon Mrs. Quicktemper’s territory, and
we found one of the most deplorable
instances of human suffering that can
be imagined ;” and the lady then pro
ceeded to describe, in minutest detail,
the visit of Miss Prim and herself to
the home of little Dan.
“ Did you not do anything for them ?”
anxiously inquired Mrs. Modeßtone,
after the recital was finished.
“A-hem—well—no. Nothing more
than to try and cheer them up. You
see, I had no change with me, and then
I thought it would be better to bring
tbe case before the society,” purused
Mrs. Zealous.
“And yet you say they were starving,” ;
said Mrs. Modestone, in a tone of gentle i
reproof.
“ Yes, they were very destitute,” an
swered Mrs. Zealous, shortlv.
“I would like to inquire, Mrs. Presi
dent,” said Mrs. Qaicktemper, with
some show of feeling, “if Mrs. Zealous
and Miss Prim have not been assigned
to districts of their own ?”
“ They have,” politely responded the
presiding officer.
“Very well, then why do they not
confiue their labors within the limits
of their respective districts?” said Mrs.
Qaicktemper, with growing asperity.
“We have canvassed our districts
most thoroughly,” exclaimed both Mrs.
Zealous and Miss Prim in unison.
“ Very thoroughly, no doubt,” coldly
remarked Mrs. Quicktemper.
“ I do not understand yonr insinua
tions, madam,” angrily answered Mrs.
Zealous.
“Don’t you? Well, then, to speak
plainly, I wish it understood that I do
not desire any interference from you in
my district.”
“ Yon have not, it appears, troubled
yourself about your district np to tbe
present time, my dear Mrs. Quicktem
per.”
“I do not know as that is any of
your business, Mrs. Zealous.”
“Perhaps not,” indignantly repliei
Mrs. Zealous, “ but when I see people
starving ”
“ Well, you didn’t help them aDy, did
you ? ”
“No; I ”
“ Then what are you talking about!”
“ Mrs. Quicktemper, I had always
thought you to be a lady.”
“ I have always known yon to be a
very officious person, Mrs. Zealous.”
“Mrs. Quicktemper you are a very
impertinent woman.”
“ Mrs. Zealous, you are a meddle
some old thing. I can’t bear you ! ”
“ I do not wish to have any further
talk with you,” said Mrs Zealous, striv
ing to keep calm.
“Nor I with you, madam,”. Saying
which Mrs. Quicktemper, with flushed
face and snapping eyes, changed her
seat and turned her back upon the un
fortunate subject of her ire.
“ Ladies ! ladies ! pray cease this
angry discussion,” appealed the pres
ident. “ You forget that our work is of
a Christian character.”
Mrs. Zealous apologized for her
heated language, bnt said that she
could never forgive Mrs. Quicktemper
CARTERSVILLE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 15, 1575.
for the insult that she had put upon
her. ”
Mrs Qaicktemper tartly replied that
she desired no forgiveness, and it being
apparent to the members of the society
that the two members could not be rec
onciled, a motion was put and carried
to adjourn. Action in the ease of little
Dan and his mother was deferred until
the next meeting.
It was snowing, and the blustering
winds had piled the white drifts high in
the street. The warmly clad ladies, as
they were drive a rapidly home in their
robe-filled sleighs, forgot—all save one
—the picture that Mrs. Zealous had so
faithfully painted of poor Dan and his
dying mother in their attic home. This
one wag—
IV.
“Put down the basket, John, and
kindle a lire.” Mrs. Quicktemper’s
voice was soft and kind, and as she
hastily scanned the old and darkened
room, she shuddered to think that
human beings should be foroed to dwell
in such a place.
John, the coachman, used as he was
to scenes of privation and suffering,
muttered to himself, “ Fy jimminy, this
place ain’t fit for a dog to live in !” I
And a dog, according to John’s reason
ing, could live almost anywhere.
The appearance of the apartment had
not changed since the visit of Mrs.
Zealous and Miss Prim, the day before,
save that the tempestuous winds had ,
driven the snow in through the broken
window and covered the rough board
floor with a cold, white mantle. The
little low iron cot stood in the corner,
half concealed by the fast-falling shad
ows of the approaching night. Even
there, too, the snow had found its way
and nestled in queer little drifts about
the outstretched form, the outlines of
which were but just discernible. At
the bead of the bed knelt little Dan, his
face buried in his mother’s bosom, and
his thick brown curls radiant with glis- j
tening fl ikes of snow. No sound was
heard, not even the breathing of the
two unconscious figures in the corner. I
The wind outside had died away, and
the snow fell lightly and silently into
the street below.
“Hurry, John, and get up a good
blaze !” spoke Mrs. Qaicktemper. And ;
John, with his foot, cleared away the
snow from the fire-place, and on the
ashes of poor Dan’s box soon had a
roaring fire. The sparks danced mer
rily about, and formed a strikiDg con
trast with the shifting snow-flakes out
side as they chased each other down by
the window. The glimmering light
from the fire revealed clearly every
corner and object in the apartment;
and as Mrs. Qaicktemper stepped for
ward with outstretched hands to awaken
lhe sleeping subjects of her bountiful
but tardy charity, a gesture from John,
whose quick eye had, in the light, read
the fate of mother and child, caused
her to pause, a id with blanched cheek
and tearful eyes she beard :
“Too late, mum—they be dead.”
fashion jottings.
Polonaises are not entirely out of
fashion.
Many of the basques are worn with
fancy belts.
Jet trimmings is much used in grena
dine dresses.
White tissue vails are among the lat
est novelties.
The hair is to be worn high on the
head again.
Lace beaded sacques are more worn
this season than last.
White organdie lawn makes a cool
and becoming necktie.
Plaited basques of all thin materials
will be very much worn.
Many of the overskirts are made with
the deep apron and sash back.
The Mechlin laoe is much used on
white French muslin party dresses.
Sieveless lace sacqnes, deep in front
and short in the back, are a graceful
wrap.
Collars are made on all summer dress
es, either plaited or with plain round
collars.
Nothing is cooler and sweeter for
morning wear than those embroidered
batiste suits ; price sls,
The proper lingerie for traveling are
sets of quaint striped and plaid Cheviots
and Oxford linens.
All thin dresses have lining to the
waist, but the sleeves of evening dresses
should not be lined.
New black vails of thread-net are bor
dered with a small vine, and dotted
with the tiniest buttons.
Black velvet dog collars, studded
with jet, blue steel and gilt ornaments,
are much used on long, slender necks.
The novelty of jewelry consists of ex- j
quisite cameo sets cut in oonoh shells, ]
and very delicately mounted.
Ties of Swiss muslin with medallions
of embroidery set iu, and ties of ecru
batiste, are each obtaining favor.
Ecru batiste neokties, wrought in open
English design on each end, are ex
tremely stylish, and are mostly used on
black toilets.
The newest trimming introduced for
black silks is a netted fringe, with a
very deep heading, and without beads.
Sleeveless beaded cashmere sacques
are still seen on the street, and will con
tinue fashionable during the cool days.
White tulle vails, dotted with white
pearl beads, are fashionable for dressy
carriage toilets, bnt in bad taste for the
street.
Many of the percale suits are made
with a loose box plaited saeque, with
black velvet bows put down the middle
back plait.
For a traveling suit, brown or gray
debage is the most suitable. Make
with plaited waist and trim the skirt
with knife plaitings.
New linen lawn handkerchiefs have
the hem scolloped with Turkey red,
navy blue or sky blue, to suit the cra
vats with which they are worn.
Sleeves are made almost tight to the
arm, and many are only trimmed at the
hand with two small knife plaitings,
finished with a band and bow.
Tbe Haddee or Greek sleeve has ap
peared. It is very long, and out square
at ths bottom. Tne inside is left par
tially open to allow the arm to pass.
The new Byron collars, with double
square cuffs, en suite, are made of
white sheer linen, edged with Turkey
red, bluer or black. The thin tie is
worn inside close about the tbroat.
Puffed overskirts of grenadine aDd
other soft material make a very showy
appearance, and are much worn by thin
ladios, to whom they are very becoming
in giving style to the figure.
In order to clean yonr kid gloves
thoroughly, put them on and wash
them, as if you were washing your
hands, in a basin of turpentine, hang
them np in a warm place or where there
is a good current of air, which will
carry off tb-e smell of the turpentine.
This method was brought over from
Paris, and thon sands of dollars have
been made bv it.
AN APPEAL TO YOUNG MOTHERS
lam an old woman; I have only a
few threads more to weave when the
pattern will be completed and the Mas
ter will fold it up and lay it away. It is
an imperfect piece, full of broken
threads and wrong colors. Ido not
like to look upon it; I would like to
take it all out and weave it over again.
But no, it must go just as it is. But I
will try to add a few good threads and
right colors that the finishing up may
be better ; and as the garment is folded
up may they appear upon the outside,
and, meeting the gaze of those just
weaving their piece, teach them what to
put in their pattern.
Mothers, young mothers, listen to my
story, and learn a lesson therefrom.
You do get so out of patience with that
boy of yours. He is never quiet—
whistling, singing, stamping, some kind
of a noise all the time. You think you
cannot bear it, your nerves are so weak,
so you send him avray, out of doors,
anywhere that you may not be so an
noyed. Don’t do it any more.
Come wiili me to yonder cemetery.
Here in the corner, under the willow,
lies my boy, “Eirnest Clinton, aged
twenty-one.” Sit down with me near
his grave and I will tell you about him.
He was a'beautiful babe. How I did
love the precious blue-eyed one ! How
cunningly he would twine those little
arms arouud my neck, and press his
little cheek against mine ! Every mo
ment of his little baby-life was a joy and
comfort t j me. Soon the little feet began
to toddle round and he would run to
mamma for safety. Then the childish
prattle oame, and how sweetly he would
lisp my name, and, looking in my eyes,
say : “ I ’ove ’ou, mamma ! ”
O Earnest, my precioas boy, come
back again and be once more a babe on
mother’s knee ! Let mother try again !
But the little fellow kept on growing,
and soon arrived to the dignity of his
first pair of pants. How proudly he
strutted round and called himself
“ mamma’s man.” But I cannot follow
him along step by step. He soon be
came the school boy; and how I used to
get out of patience with him as he came
rushing in from school, so noisy and
boisterous. I would scold him, and try
to keep him quiet by seating him in a
chair. After awhile he would not come
directly from school, but would play by
the way. Mother had so much to do
she did not take much heed of her boy’s
seeking pleasure away from home.
When he was a little fellow I always
went with him when he went to bed,
read to him from tbe Bible, knelt by
him while he said his evening prayer,
talked kindiy to him about any wrong
he had done through the day. How
tender his little he;art was at those
times, all ready to receive impressions
for good. And how he used to enjoy
those bed-time talks. Bat as he grew
older, when bed-time came I would feel
tired, or be busy, and would send him
away alone. He felt badly at first, and
would kiss me over and over again be
fore going ; bnt after awhile he would
go without saying anything, or even
kissing me. I did not then think much
about the change ; my mind was oc
cupied with work, which seemed more
important than anything else.
Thus he gradually drifted away from
me. When he was naughty I would get
all out of patience with him, instead of
kindly and firmly reproviDg him. I
would dread vacation-time, and permit
him to go from home to play ; I could
not stop to amuse and interest him at
home, and it was such a relief to have
him away.
Bnt why need Igo on ? The loving,
affectionate boy was weaned from his
mother, and every year found him farther
away. Rumors began to come to the
ears of his father and myself of his be
ing wild. We talked with him ;he felt
very badly and promised to do better.
But, alas! the chain of love which
should have bound him to his home and
mother had been severed and other
chains, woven by wicked companions,
had been thrown around him and held
him fast. We sent him away to school.
I wrote many letters to him. I tried to
get my influence over him back again,
but it was too late. He ran away from
school, and for five years we heard
nothing from him. Mothers, just
imagine those five long, weary years,
with no knowledge whatever of my only
son !
One evening we sat before the fire
talking of our absent boy. The storm
raged without, and tlie tempest in our
own hearts could not be stilled. I
thought I heard a timid knock at the
door. I went, and there stood my
long-lost Earnest. But what a change !
Was it possible that this was my bine
eyed, curlv-haired baby—my robust,
ruddy-cheeked son ? A pale, emaciated
young man stood before me.
“Earnest, my boy,” I cried, “is this
you ?”
“ Yes, dear mother, it is Earnest;
may I come in ? I have come home to
die.”
We did everything we could for him,
but could not save him. Those five
years of dissipation had ruined his
health, and he only lived a few months.
“ Mother,” he would often say, “ I
am only twenty-one, and have got to
die. I have wasted the past years of
my life, and cut off the future, which
might have been mine to use for good.”
Bitterly did he repf nt, and we believe
was forgiven, which is the only drop of
comfort my cup of sorrow contains.
He dropped asleep very peacefully,
and we have laid him here to rest till
God shall bid him rise. But my heart
was broken then, and bitterness and
sorrow have been my companions ever
since. God gave me that boy to bring
up and I was responsible for his future.
There was in him the germ of a noble
manhood, and I crushed it.
The heart of my child was mine, but,
instead of making an effort to keep that
heart, I permitted it to slip from my
grasp.
I never Bee a little toy now but that I
want to go to the mother and on bended
knee to implore her to so love that boy
that she will be patient with him; that
she will so win and retain his affections
that his love for mother shall be a
shield of safety in the darkest hour of
temptation.
Dear young mothers, bear with the
noisy boys ; better a few headaches now
than the dreadful heartaches that will
come in alter years. Make home pleas
ant for them. No matter if the work is
not all done to your satisfaction ; the
eternal welfare of the child is of far
more importance. Lay aside your work
sometimes, and enter into their sports
and games. Question them about their
doings at school; rejoice with them
when they are happy ; sympathize with
them when they are in trouble. Let
them see that mother is a true friend
to them. At the same time be firm and
insist upon implicit obedience. They
will respect yon all the more for that.
Make bed-time a happy hour for them,
that the memory may linger with them
in after years, and that hour shall ever
be a sacred one, causing a deep tender
ness to spring up in the heart, and a
ftrong yearning to bow the head again
on mother’s knee, and say the evening
prayer, even when they have become
strong men engrossed in the business of
life.
Dear mothers, as I say farewell to
you, I would lift my heart in prayer to
the Father above, asking Him to give
you, each and all, wisdom and strength
so to bring up those boys of yours that
a noble manhood may be theirs ; a hap
py heart yours, and a mansion of rest
for you all in the pure city of God.
And if my story will help some
mother to be more patient and tender
with her boy I will thank God that He
has permitted a few threads of gold to
finish my web of life.— Arthur's Home
Magazine.
A FLOItIDA DAWN.
BY WILL WALLACE HARNEY.
The moon is low in the sky,
And a sweet south wind is blowing
Where the bergamot blossoms breathe and die
In the orchard’s scented snowing:
But the stars are few, and scattered lie
Where the sinking moon is going.
With a love-sweet ache a strain
Of the night’s delicious fluting
Stirs iu the heirt, with as sweet a pain
As the flower feels in fruiting.
And the oft air breathes a breath of rain
Over buds and tendrils shooting.
For the sweet night faints and dies,
Like the blush when love confesses
Its passion dusk to the cheeks and eyes
And dies in its sweet distresses,
And the radiant mystery fills the skies
Of possible happinesses,
Till the sun breaks ont on sheaves
And mouths of a pink perfume,
Where the milky tergamot plakes its leaves ;
And the rainbow’s ribbon b'oom,
Of the soft gray mist of the morning, weaves
A rose in the roses bloom.
Tbe fog, like a great white cloth.
Drawn out of the orchard and corn,
And melts away in a film of froth
Like the milk spray on the thorn ;
And out of her chamber’s blush and loth,
Like a bride comes the girlish morn.
Reasons for La Mode.
Trace a fashion to its origin and you
will nearly always find that it springs
from the consciousness of a defect and
a wish to mask it. The fatherland of
crinoline is Spain, and a Spanish queen
first wore hoops to dissimulate unequal
hips. A Venus of the Boulevards, who
committed suicide by throwing herself
over a balcony a few years ago, revived
the high-heeled shoes, which Louis
Quortorze originally brought into fash
ion to appear taller than the king of
Spain at the meeting in the Isle of
Pheasants. A lady who derives pres
tige from rank, tortune and striking
beauty scalded her arm three winters
back. An ugly mark bore witness to
the accident. She thought of wearing,
to conceal it, those long armed gloves
which, ont of mercy to the plebeian
wives of Napoleon’s marshals and gener
als, the Empress Josephiae adopted.
The hats slanting down over the eye
brows were the result of a lady of ex
alted rank losing her front hair. Queen
Elizabeth's neck was yellow and thin,
hence the “stiff muslin mane.” The
double veil of white and black tulle was
contrived by a “parliamentary woman”
with a bad complexion. She used pearl
powder to hide her red skin, and the
white and black veil to dissimulate the
pearl powder which would have shown
on black net.
Clinrch Disaster.
The Springfield Union, speaking of
the Holyoke disaster, refers to a catas
trophe at Santiago de Chili, South
America, December 8, 1862, when, by
the sudden conflagration of the cathe
dral during a crowded service, two thou
sand women, maids and matrons, in
cluding the very flower of the city,
perishsd horribly. It was at the even
ing service, when the church was
densely crowded. A camphene lamp,
used in a transparency on the altar, set
fire to the banging, whence the flames
spread instantaneously along the elabo
rate festoons of gauze and drapery that
covered the walls and ceilings, among
which 20,000 candles and camphene
lamps were burning. In a moment the
whole interior was a bonfire, and a
rain of blazing oil and burning cloth
fell upon the crowd below. The one
door of the church opened inwards,
and was soon choked. In less than a
quarter of an hour 2,000 persons, in
cluding very few men, had perished.
The Chilian legislature forbade church
illuminations for the future, and or
dered a sufficient number ol doors to
be put into all churches.
A Chicago paragraphist, who had got
a place pn a Philadelphia paper, was
thus addressed by his new proprietor :
“ Of oourse, you know our Philadelphia
papers are different from those of the
west; they have to be. You must be a
little guarded in your paragraphs. I
know that you come from the west, the
land of robust thought and outspoken
ness, but you must remember that our
subscribers are a peculiar people.
Don’t pitch into anybody—that is, any
body who is alive now, o* - who Las died
within, say, five hundred years; don’t
even say anything harsh of Mr. Richard
Turpin, for there are some of our sub
scribers who go so far as to admire him.
No man of genuis, no matter how mean
he was in private life, must be ridiculed
in our paper, for our people love great
men and always stop their papers when
they see anything against their herces.
Why, we lost forty three subscribers
one day by a harmless little paragraph
on that old humbug, Wm. Penn. Bv
the way, if you should at any time feel
as though you really must attack some
body, just pitch into Sesostris, that old
Egyptian fraud who pretended to be a
conquerer when he never conquered
anything at all. That was a good while
ago, and none of our subscribers know
anything about the Egyptians. A good
many of those antiquated old scoun
drels need writing up, anyhow. Sup
pose you begin on old Sesostris at once. ”
“ Biggest When First Hatched.”—
We published a day or two since the
sad fact that ex-Senator Nye had be
come hopelessly insane. He has been
failing for many months, but up to very
recently has had lucid intervals of a few
moments’ duration, in which were al
most painfully apparent flashes of his
old self. When Senator Booth went
east last spring, the daughter of Sena
tor Nye, in an effort to arouse him, bent
over the old statesman and said : “ Fath
er, Senator Booth has reached Wash
ington. Do you remember him ? ”
“ Booth, Booth ?” replied the failing
chief ; “ is he not of California ?” “Yes,”
said the daughter. “Do you remember
him ? His friends in California think
he is the coming man.” The light was
beginning to fade in the old eagle’s eye,
but he answered as he would of old.
Shaking his head slowly, he spoke :
“ They are mistaken. Booth is like a
squats—he was biggest when first hatch
ed.”— Virginia Enterprise.
SCRAPS OF SCIENCE.
ANESTHETIZING DURING SLEEP.
Prof. Dolbeau describes at much
longtb, in the Annales d’ Hyginene. his
various experiments to ascertain wheth
er a person cm be anaesthetized daring
sleep. He mentions the cases of three
patients, who, while sleeping, were
readily aroused by applying small quan
tities of chloroform at no great distance
from the nostrils. In another series of
experiments, made on seven patients,
ten drops of chloroform were poured on
a napkin folded in four, which was
gradually brought to the vicinity of the
air passage, so that all air inspired tra
versed it; in all these cases, the pa
tients were suddenly aroused from their
sleep, some immediately, and only one
after the eleventh inspiration. A third
group of oases consisted of 29 patients.
It was found in ten out of this number,
that is in more than a third, complete
amethesia could be induced without
awakening (hem. Dexterity in the
made of procedure seemed to have
something to do with the proportion
thus obtained, for this increased pro
gressively with the number of cases ex
perimented upon.
BRAIN OF MAN AND APES.
Prof. Owen is quoted as saying, be
fore the Anthropological society of
London, that the brain of man is more
complex in its organization than the
brain of inferior an>mals, it is more
subject to injury, and more liable to
experience the want of perfect develop
ment ; that instances of idiocy occur
amoDg all races of mankind, and that
extreme smallness of the sknll indicates
want of intellect approaching to idiocy.
Alluding to the attempts that have
been made to find a link of connection
between man and apes, he remarked
that it was possible that an idiot with
an imperfectly developed brain might
wander into some cave, and there die,
and in two or three years his bones
might be covered with mud, or be im
bedded in stalagmite, and, when dis
covered, such a sknll might be adduced
as affording the long-looked-for link con
necting man with the inferior animals.
He expresses the opinion that the dif
ference in question is altogether too
wide to be bridged over by this sknll of
any creature yet discovered.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY LIGHTING.
The leaf-like figures which are so fre
quently found upon the bodies of men
and animals struck by lightning are
generally believed to be impressions
of the foliage in the vicinity where the
accident occurs, made by the lightning
in some manner analogous to the pro
cess of photograph. There are strong
reasons, however, in support of the
proposition advanced by Mr. Tomlinson,
F. R. S., that these figures are not de
rived from trees at all, but represent the
fiery hand of lightning itself, the trunk
being traced by the main discharge,
while the spray-like branches proceed
from the electric feelers first cast out,
as it were, to find the line of least re
sistance. The sensation of cob-webs
being drawn over the face, which has
sometimes been felt by sailors just be
fore their ship was struck by lightning,
is by him attributed to these sprays of
electricity preceding the main discharge.
It is nevertheless true that neighboring
metallic objects, such as a horeshoe, for
example, are frequently impressed with
marvelous distinctness upon the body
of the person struck.
PREVENTION OF INCRUSTATION OF ROLLERS.
Experiments have been made on one
of the Australian railways in lining lo
comotive boilers with copper, to prevent
incrustation. The plates at each end
were lined with copper of the thickness
of one millimetre, the result being that
while the centre plate (iron) had a layer
of incrustation ten millimetres thick in
two years, and carious corrosion besides,
the copper plates had quite a smooth
surface, and only three millimetres’
thickness of incrustation.
The Prefldental List. —The names
of th gentlemen from whom the re
spective p irties will be pretty sure to
select their candidates for president
next year are not many. Here is a cata
logue :
REPUBLICANS. DEMOCRATS.
B. H. Bristow, T. A. Hendricks,
O. P. Morton, A. G. Thurman.
E. B. Washburne, W. Allen,
E. D. Morgan, T. F. Bavard,
H. Wilson, J. 8. Black,
J. G. Blaine. 8. J. Tilden.
Each of these lists seems complete as
the case stands at present. It is possi
ble, bnt not probable, that new men
may come np in the course of next fall
and winter. For instance, if Gen.
Hayes should be elected governor of
Ohio by a rousing majority, he would
take a place in the republican list; but
if he should be beaten, his chance of
reaching such distinction would be ex
tinguished forever. Most likely some
one of these twelve gentlemen will be
the next president, and we are bound
to say that it is possible to find a good
one in either list. — N. Y. Sun.
A New Motive Power. —The plan of
propelling cars, omnibuses and veloci
pedes by coiled spring has now for
some time been employed in England,
and, it is said, with encouraging re
sults. The motor used is an arrange
ment of powerful springs, encased in
cylinders, like watch-springs on a very
large scale. The skill of French ma
chinists in this direction has been
called into requisition, and steel bands,
capable of beiDg coiled and of exerting
great pressure, have been made in
lengths of 100 yards each. In Sheffield
some of the steel manufacturers have
turned out springs fifty and sixty feet
long, and said to be capable of the
enormous pressure of 800 pounds. To
wind up these springs requires, of
course, more power than is obtained by
hand, and it is therefore proposed to
have them wound, at certain intervals
by means of stationary engines. Borne
of these methods consist of a combina
tion of spiral or helical springs.
Joaquin Miller. —Joaquin Miller has
provoked many sharp criticisms on his
poetry, but none on his public conduct
under the most trying of domestic afflic
tions. He has persistently refused to
say anything, in self-defense or other
wise, concerning the attacks made upon
him by his former wife and by many
western newspapers. Almost the only
public allusion he has ever made to
these attacks is in the preface to his
new book, where he says : “I have been
true to my west. She has been my only
love. I have remembered her great
men. I have done my work to show to
the world her vastness, her riches, her
resources, her valor and her dignity,
her poetry and her grandeur. Yet,
while I was going on, working so in
silence, what were the things she said
of me ? But let that pass, my dear
parents. Others will come after us.
Perhaps I have blazed out the trail for
great minds in this field, as you did
across the deserts and plains for great
men a quarter of a century ago.”
VOL. 16--NO. 29.
SAYINHS AND DOINttM.
‘ Because the Wat is Shobt.”—
I think we are too readv with complaint
la this fair world of God’s. Hsd we no hope
ladeed beyond the zenith and the slope
Cf yon gray bank of skv, we might be faint
To umee upon eternity’s constraint
Round our aspirant souls. But since the scope
Must widen earlv. it is well to droop
Far a few days consumed in loss and faint ?
0 pusillanimous Heart, bo comforted—
And. like a cheerless traveler, take the road.
Sineing beside the hedge. What if the bread
Bo bitter in thine inn. and then nnhod
To meet the flints ?—At least it may be said,
“ Because the wav is short, I thank thee, God!”
“ Now let us talk about your business
afFairs,” said a sharp Connecticut girl to
a young fellow, after he had proposed
marriage to her in a long address filled
with expressions of passionate love.
That was a fnnny indictment which
airaigned a woman in Milwankee, the
other dav, for disturbing a religious
meeting by “ riotously eating nuts aDd
noisily champing the same with her
teeth. The woman was acquitted.
Eighty-seven persons in Stowe, Mas
sachusetts, every one of whom is over
70 years of age. have cut loose from the
voungsters of 50 and 60, and have formed
themselves into a clnb. The most an
cient member is an exclusive old lady of
100 years.
Miss Annie Gray, a young Australian
beauty, wore no diadem but youth at
one of Queen Victoria’s recent draw
ing-rooms, but outshone every lady
present. She is a blonde with a mass
of curling hair, and eyes of the tme
blue.
In 1820 the average individual con
sumption of wine in France was 62
quarts ; in 1853 84 quarts, and in 1869
100 quarts. In Paris the average has
more than doubled; each Parisian
drinks on an average 217 quarts of wine
annually.
A round - shouldered, inquisitive
man kicked what he thought was an
ornamental dog lying on a step to see if
it was hollow. It wasn’t an ornamental
dog, and it wasn’t hollow, bnt was there
on business, and the inquisitive man is
now rnsticating with his aunt till his
leg gets well.
Change of Seasons.—
All seasons we may come to seek
Where thou, my dear one, art.—
Warm summer on the little cheek,
Cold winter in the heai-t.
But all things change ; and so, my love,
These seasons shall depart;
The winter to tny cheek shall move;
The summer, to thy heart'.
She tried to sit down in the street
car, bnt it was pinned back so tight she
couldn’t. Old lady peeped over her
specs and asked her, “How long have
you been afflicted that way ?” The
young lady blushed and made “a break,”
sitting down sideways, and holding her
knees together so tight that she looked
as if she had on a one-legged pair of
breeches. Old lady noticed her sitting
in this sidewise, cramped position, and
whispered, “Bile, I ’spose; I’ve had
’em thar myself.”
Athletic sports do not flourish in
France, and the Pall Mall Gazette as
signee as reasons, first, the Frenchmen
have too much vanity to enter into con
tests in which they run the risk of be
ing beaten, and, second, that athletic
sports interfere with that devotion to
the female sex which is a Frenchman’s
chief amusement. Frenchmen will not
pl&y cricket or football lest their eyes
should be blacked and their shins
wounded. They do not like boating
because they oonnot take out ladies in
racing shells, and they dislike any game
in which one side is exjiosed to the ig
nominy of a public defeat. All of
which is very probably true, but it is
not so clear that the Frenchmen are
therefore, less sensible in their conduct
than are the Englishmen.
How to Make Bread.—
Jolly farmer, the question is, “ How to make
bread?”
And you think it a light and a dry one.
A slice, we will own, it is easy to spread,
Yet the loaf to prepare, should yon try in its
stead,
Then to eat it. thongh much it had bothered
your head,
A face you’d make, surely, a wry one.
How to fashion life’s staff is a question of
weight,
And one that is hard of solution.
Though a woman may care not for qnestions
of State,
The state matrimonial she will berate.
If her care in the kitchen shall come all too
late,
And the heavy loaf lead to confusion.
Supply, by your care, from the crush of the
mill.
The brand which is purest and sweetest;
With water that flows from the spring on the
hill,
And hops from the yard that the trading vines
fill.
And a few Early Boses to be mashed with a
will,
Leave the rest to your wife, the diecreetest.
For the destruction of the cockroach
Mr. Harris, the late eminent entomol
ogist, recommends a table spoonful of
red lead, the same amount of Indian
meal, with molasses enough to make a
thick batter. Bet this on a plate at
night in places frequented by the in
sects, and all that eat of it will be poi
soned. Another preparation is composed
of one tea spoonful of powdered arsenic,
with a table-spoonful of mashed potato.
Crumble this every night at tod-time
where the insects will find it, and it is
said to to an effectual poison. Great
care shonld to exercised in the use of
such dangerous agents. An innocent
method of destroying cockroaches is to
place a bowl or basin containing a little
molasses on the floor at night. A bit of
wood, resting one end on the floor and
the other on the edge of the vessel,
serves as a bridge to conduct the insects
to the sweet deposit. Once in the trap
and its slippery sides prevent retreat,
and thus oockroacl.es may be caught by
the thousand. Various insect powders
sold at the druggists may be used for
their extermination.
How the Brigands Serve Their
Traitors. The Visalia, California,
Delta says: About tw months ago a
Mexican by the name of Francisco
Viella came to the ranch of John
Heinlan, of Mussel Slough, and hired
out to herd horses. He subsequently
stated that he had been one of the Chavez
baud, had resolved to leave them and
was fearful that he would be murdered
for so doing. On the morning of the
10th inst., after Viella had gone to his
work, a large, well-dressed man—whom
thf China oook took to be either a Mex
ican or a Frenchman —rode up and
wanted breakfast. He was mounted on
a large bay horse and armed with pistol
and gun. He rode away over the plain.
Toward night the horse of Viella was
found tied to the fence, with the saddle
removed, and forty or fifty rods away
the dead body of the rider was found,
where be had been lassoed and dragged
over the plain until his neck was broken
and life extinct. There can be no doubt
but the murderer was a member of the
i Chavez gang.