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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.