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THE STANDARD AND EXPRESS.
A. II VKM HUK
W. A. MARSt’HALK,/ Editors and Proprietors.
LITTLE BROWN HANDS.
[T'ae following poem, written hy Mary H. Krout
of t rawfordsTilie, lud., ten yearn ago, when its
autb'>r was in her thirteenth year, is one of the
rooe beautiful and expressive ever penned in the
English language, and she uld lind a p'ace through
out the length and breadth of America wherever
[the dignity of labor is recognized
They drive home the cows from the pasture.
l T p through the long, shady lane.
Where the quail whistles lond in the wheat field
That is yellow with ripening grain.
They find, in the thick waving grasses,
Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows,
They gather the earliest snowarope,
And the first crimson buds of the rose.
They toss the hay in the meadow, f'% f“ % - i
They gather the rider-bloom white,
They find where the dusky grapes purple
In t„e soft-tinted October light.
They know where the apples hang ripest,
And are sweeter than Italy’s wints.
They know where the fruit, hangs the thickest,
On the long, thorny blackberry vines.
They gather the delicate seaweeds,
And build tiny castles of taud :
They pick up the beautiful sea-shells—
Fairy barks that have drifted to land.
They wave from the ta'l, rocking free topi,
Where the oriole’s hammock nest swings,
And at night-time are folded in i lumber
By a song that a fond mother sings.
Those who toil bravely are strongest;
The humble and poor becomo great;
And from those brown-handed children
Shell grow mighty rulers of State.
The pen of the author and statesman,
The noble and wise of the land.
Til® sword and chisel and pallette,
Shall be held in the little brown hand.
BREAD CAST UPON THE WATERS.
BY RUTH CHESTERFIELD.
Jolm Mallory was returning from his
day’s work, with his spade over his
shoulder, when he saw a woman sitting
olose to the wall, weeping bitterly.
Jolm had a kind heart and was easily
moved at the sight of distress, so he
stopped and addressed the woman.
“You seem to be in trouble”—that was
what he said. The mourner lifted her
face, and he saw that she was a very
young woman, scarcely more than a giri,
in fact. But this did not lessen his pity
at all; possibly it increased it, for his
heart was human as well as kind.
“Trouble? Ah, yes; I have come
such a long, long way, and am so fa
tigne—so much weary! I went to the
people’s doors, but no one said anything
only : ‘Go ’wav ! we have no room for
strangers. Go to the hotel, wliv do you
not?”
“So I went to the hotel, but the land
lord was worst than all the rest Oh, how
lie frighten me, he was so fierce, so loud!
He call mo a tremp-a thief—because
he found I had no money. No money,
yes, that was it; and he bade me go
about my business ; but I have uo busi
ness, and so I came out into the woods
to die alone.”
“Cheer up, then, if that is all,” said
John, “and come with me. My mother
won’t diive you from her door, you may
be sure.”
And John spoke truly, for Lis mother’s
heart was like his own. She only
needed to know that the girl was a
stranger and in distress to give her a
cordial welcome.
“Take off your things, my dear,” said
she, removing the girl’s shawl with her
own hands, “and sit here by the fire.
How you shiver, poor child ! You are
chilled to tlie bone.”
“You are so kind—so very kind!” said
the visitor, taking the rocking-chair of
fered her; and then John saw that she
was uot only young but sicgulf rly beau
tiful, though thin and pale as if from
ecent illness.
“You’re out of health. You’re not
fit to be abroad,” said Mrs. Mallory.
“How your mother would feel to see you
looking so.”
“ Alas, I have no mother 1” said the
girl, and her tears began to flow afresh.
“I will tell yon my story.”
“There, t here, I’m sorry I said it—l’m
such a blunderer! Never mind the story
now, but after supper when you are
warm and comfortable, you shall tell us
about yourself, that iB, all that you wish
to tell.”
80, when the three had eaten their
evening meal, and Mrs. Mallory had
cleared away the table and taken out
knitting work, the young girl told her
storv.
She said that her name was Estelle
Leßoy ; that her father was a French
refugee ; but that she herself was born
in Canada some years after he had left
his native country, he having married
a Canadian. After the death of her
mother he had come to Boston, hoping
to be able to support himself and her
by teaching his own language ; bnt just
as he had found a situation which prom
ised to bo permanent he became very
ill; in fact, the climate of this country
had never agreed with him, and he was
always mourning for “ la belle France."
He was sick a long time, and when he
died he left her penniless.
Of her relatives in France sh<s knew
nothing; and although since her father’s
death she had written more than once
to her mother’s friends in Canada, no
letters had ever been received in return.
She believed she conld find them how
ever, if she could get there, and that
was now her aim. What she had suf
fered since she left Boston she said she
could ‘‘never, never tell.”
“It’s all over now, my dear,” said
Mrs. Mallory, “so try to forget it, and
just try to make yourself contented
with us until you are better able to
travel than you are now. ”
For a whole week Estelle stayed with
the Mallorys, gaining in health and
beauty every day, and developing a
careless lightness of spirit greatly in
contrast to her first depression.
That John was not insensible to her
attractions may well be imagined, and
what the consequences might have been
I cannot tell, if his heart had not
been already preoccnpied. That being
the case, there was no room there for the
fair stranger, save in the way of friend
ship, and he showed his friendship by
‘ringing Mary, his betrothed, to see
her.
Curious it was to see the two together
—Mary, the Btiiid New England girl,
with her rosy cheeks, her calm, blue
eyes and yellow hair ; her plain dress,
steady northern tongne; and
Estelle, with her olive akin, her hair
and eyes as dark as night, her fanciful,
idiomatic speech, and her airy figure,
which gave grace even to the worn gar
ments which clothed it. It was the
brown thrush and the canary bird sit
'iug side bv side on an apple-tree
bough.
hull, they got on well together, these
two, and kissed each other when they
parted. But when Estelle parted from
Mrs Mallory She hung on her neck as if
h had. been her own dear mother she
was leaving.
John saw her saiely on her journey,
aQ, I when he took her hand to say fare
well he left in it a small purse, contain-
m fe a sum sufficient for her expenses.
‘ 1 shall not forget you, ever—ever—
’m.not till my dying day does come,”said
' ibtelle, with tours in her eyes. “ The
B°&u Gou bless you for your kindness
Tr * He poor sfr?*mgPT—you, and yom
mother and the pretty Murie. ”
Ik a few weeks the Mallorys received
a tetter from Estfelkv saying that she
md reached her journey’s end in safety
i waa among friends. It was the
only letter they ever received from her.
In course of time John and Mary were
married, and settled down on the Mal
farm, and there for the present we
will leave them.
One day a handsome traveling car
riage drew up before the door of a hotel
m a quiet New England village. It was
an event in the history of that hotel, for
never had such an establishment been
seen there before. Out came the two
hostlers, out came the stable-boys, out
came the bar-keeper, and, lastly, out
came the landlord himself.
A gentleman alighted from the car
riage and was followed by a beautiful
and richly-dressed lady. Bobbing his
bare head and waving aside his subor
dinates the obsequious landlord led the
way to the parlor, took the orders of his
distinguished guests and communicated
them to his servants. Then there was
an opening and shutting of doors, a
ringing of bells, a rushin % to and fro—
in short, tumult as if the queen had
come.
When the travelers were lelt to them
selves the lady broke into a merry laugh.
“ Oh, it is too droll, Sir Edward ; it
is the same landlord who, fifteen years
ago, bade me begone for a thief and a
tramp.”
“ The villain ! I should like to lay
my cane over his back,” said Sir Ed
ward.
“It isn’t worth while—such an insig
nificant back,” said the lady; “only
don’t take on airs, thinking all this at
tention is for us. It is only for our car
ratre and horses, and our clothes.”
By and by, the landlord having made
some further errand to the parlor, the
lady, who was sitting by the window, re
marked :
“ You have a pleasant little village
here.”
“ As pleasant and thriving a village as
any in the country,” answered tho de
lighted landlord.
“Do you know if there is a family by
the name of Mallory living here ?” askecl
she.
“There’s a farmer by that name,
ma’am. Mr. John Mallory—if it’s him
you mean.”
“ The same, no doubt. He’s living,
then—and his mother ?”
“She died some six years ago, ma’am,
and it’s well, perhaps, considering the
misfortune that’s come to the family ?’’
“Misfortune?”
“ Then you don’t know,” said the land
lord, delighted to have some intelligence
to communicate, but marvelling much
that this great lady could feel any inter
est in the Mallory family. “ Well, it’s
a great misfortune, and the worst of it
is, it was all bis own fault. If people
will be so foolish, they mast take the
consequences. There wasn’t a more
prosperous man in town than John
Mallory, and, his property being
mostly in real estate, there was no rea
son why he shouldn’t keep it always,
and his children after him, for real
estate doesn't take to itself wings and fly
away as other riches do. But what does
John do but sign a note for a friend,
and now he’s lost everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything—just turned himself and
family out of house and homo. That is
to say, they’ll have to go ; there is no
Help for it.”
“ He’s at the old place now, is he?”
“ He is ma’am, but he won’t bo long ;
the sale takes place to-day.”
“ Thanks,” said the lady ; and then,
as if to herself, “ Poor Johu !so like
him.”
“You know him ?” queried the land
lord.
“ He showed me great kindness once,
fifteen years ago. I was here, also, at
that time. You do not remember it.”
“ It is very strange, but really, ma’am,
it lias escaped my recollection.”
“ Quite likely. It was before my
marriage. ” And with this the landlord
was forced to be satisfied.
Tlig sale was over, and John Mallory
was wandering from room to room, tak
ing a mute farewell of the house which
he could no longer call his own, when
his little daughter came to say that a
lady was in the parlor who had asked
for him.
“ Very well,” said he, supposing it to
be some neighbor who wished to see
him on a trifling matter of business; but
when he opened the door a stranger
stood before him.
She greeted him courteously, and
then said, without any circumlocution :
“ I am the purchaser of your farm,
and I have brought the deed, that you
may see if it is all right.”
He took it listlessly enough, but as
he glanced over it his countenance
changed.
“ 1 don’t understand,” said he ; and
no wonder, for the deed was mado out
in Ins own name.
“So you, too, have forgotten mo, as
well as tlie big landlord up there ; but
maybe you will remember ihat ,” and
she held out a queer little purse of net
ted silk.
John Mallory fixed his startled gaze
upon her face, and something in the
lustrous eyes, the smiling mouth,
touched a long-silent chord of memory.
She saw it, and, answering his look,
saiJ :
“Yes, I am Estelle Leßoy, and the
same providence which sent you to
me in my despair has sent me to you iu
your time of sorrow. No thanks, John
Mallory. Ido no more than requite
your kindness to me, and hardly that;
so keep the deed, I pray you. But the
little purse, with that I will never part. ”
Shs then told him that within two
or three years after returning to Canada
she had married an Englithman of rank,
aud had been in Europ 3 most of the
time since; but that, being now on a
tour through “ the States,’ 1 they had
come out of their way to visit those who
had befriended her in her need.
“ The dear mother is gone, I hear ;
but the pretty Marie, she is well ?"
“My wife is well, and will come her
self and thank you for your great good
ness.”
“ Not to-night, not to-night; but to
morrow Sir Edward will come with me,
and we will talk it all over—the past and
present. He know.i it all, and he will
say the thanks are due from ourselves,
not you.”
And in this she proved a true prophet.
We are touching our fellow-beings on
all sides. They are affected for good or
for evil by what we are, by what we say
and do, even by what we think and
feel. May flowf rs in the parlor breathe
fragranoe "through the atmosphere. We
are each of us as silently saturating the
atmosphere about us with the subtile
aroma of our character. In the family
circle, besides and beyond all the
teaching, the daily life of each patent
and child mysteriously modifies the life
of every person in the household. The
same process on a wider teal a is going
on through the community. No man
live*', o himself, and no man a’eui to
himself. Others are built up and
straightened by our unconscious deeds;
others may be wrenched out of their
.places andthrown down by our uncon
scious influence.
African Camels and Capetown Horses.
The milk of the camel is highly es
teemed by the Arabs as an article of
diet, and is prescribed as a specific in
many cases of disease. Lady Dnff
Gordon, who resided several years in
Egypt :n the vain hope of recovering
from consumption in that mild climate,
drank camel’s milk every morning, and
derived a good deal of temporary bene
fit from it. In her spicy letters home
she thus wrote of the novel beverage :
“ It has tho merit of being quite deli
cious. I wish I could send you a jug
of it every morning, such as I drink ; it
is _ better than any other milk, with
thick froth like whipped cream. The
Arabs think it very good for sick peo
ple ; and a man called Sheriff brings
his camel here every'morning and milks
her for me. Her baby camel is so
funny ; he looks all legs and big, black
eyes, with soft, fluffy, buff-colored hair,
and so very little body to such tall legs.
I wish, too, you could see the camels
have there dinner ; they are the only
people who use a table-cloth. The
camel-driver spreads a cloth on the
ground, and pours a heap of maize
(dourra) upon it, and old Mr. and Mrs.
Camel sit down at the top and bottom
very gravely, aud tho others all take
their places in proper order, and eat
quite politely, bowing their long necks
up and down ; only one was sulky, and
went and had his dinner by himself,
like a naughty boy, and sometimes, tho
man said, he would not eat at all. ”
When in Capetown, Africa, in one of
her long journeys after the health that
she had never found, Lady Duff Gor
don frequently mentioned tlie wonderful
strength and endurance of the native
breed of horses. The animais are very
scantily fed, and, as no grass grows in
the region, their fodder is restricted to
oats, which they consume, straw and all.
Often after hours of travel the only
refreshment offered the beasts is a roll
in the dust; but this really seems to
strengthen and nourish the tough,
hardy little quardrupeds, which are
thus described by tho lady from whom
we have already quoted :
“I could write a volume on Cape
horses. Suoh valiant little beasts and
so composed in temper I never saw.
They are nearly all bays—a few very
dark gray. I have seen no black, and
only one dark chestnut. They are not
cobs and look ‘very little of them,’ and
have no beauty ; but one of these little
brutes, ungroomed, half-fed, seldom
stabled, will carry a six aud a half foot
Dutchman sixty miles a day, day after
day, at a shuffling, easy canter, six
miles an hour. You ‘off saddle’ every
three hours and let him roll; you also
let him drink all the water he can get;
his coat shines and his < ye is bright,
and unsoundness is very rare. They
are never properly broke, and the soft
mouthed colts are sometimes made
vicious by the cruel bits and heavy
hands, but by nature their temper is
perfect.
“ Every morning all the horses in the
village are turned loose, and a general
gallop takes place to the water-tank,
where they drink and lounge a little ;
and the young ones are fetched home
by the drivers, while the old stagers
know they will be wanted, and saunter
off by themselves. ... To see a
farmer outspan and turn the team of
active little beasts loose on the bound
less veld to amuse themselves for an
hour or two, sure that they will bo
there, would astonish you a little; aud
then to ofler a horse nothing but a roll
in the dust to refresh himself withal.
“ How tho cattle live is a standing
marvel to me. The whole veld (common
which extends all over the country just
clothed with a few square miles of corn
here and there) is covered with a low,
thin scrub abont eighteen inches high,
called rhenostes-bosch — looking like
meager arborvitao or pale juniper. The
cattle and sheep will not touch this
juicy Hottentot fig ; but under each
little bush, I fancy, they crop a few
blades of grass, ami on this they keep
in very good condition.
“The noble oxen, with their huge
horns (nine or ten feet from tip to tip),
are never fed, though they work hard,
nor are the sheep.
“ The horses get a little forage (oats,
straw and all). I should like you to
see eight or ten of these swift, wiry
little horses harnessed to a wagon—a
mere flat platform on wheels. In front
stands a wild-looking Ho tentot, all
patches and feathers, and drives them
best pace all ‘in hand,’ using a whip
like a fishing-rod, with which he
touches them, not savagely, but with a
skill which would make an old stage
coachman burst with envy to behold.’
A Japanese Bath.
A writer in Temple Bar says : Tn
Japan, even in the lowest inns, the
traveler’s request for a bath is never
met with that stare of blank astonish
ment which often attends the demand in
our own and every other European
country. I know in Ireland once I asked
for a bath and they brought me a horse
bucket, and on another occasion, in
France, I could get no nearer tho article
than a horse trough, while iu England
and Germany the request has more than
once led to a serious breach of the peace
between myself and tho landlord. In
Japan, on the contrary, there would be
much more surprise felt if tho traveler
did not a3k for one. There were no
preparations required, no rushing about
of chambermaids, no turning on this
and off that —everything was quite
ready, and I was at once conducted to a
huge wooden bath with a small earthen
furnace let in at the foot, and a lid en
closing the whole of the top with the
exception of a space just big enough for
the head of the bather to emerge through.
In one of these contrivances, with a
small furnace burning gavly, a Japa
nese, after his day’s work is over,
will sit calmly himself with the lid on,
and tho water bubbling about him at
boiling heat. He seems, however, to
like it uncommonly, to judge from the
pleased expression on his face fast deep
ening under the process Into beetroot
like tints ; and when he has at last had
enough—about an hour of it—he takes
off tlie lid and emerges as much like a
boiled lobster as a human being can be
come. My bath was quite ready ; the
small furnace glowed with live pieces of
charcoal; the water bubbled merrily,
aud my companions of the bath, taking
off the lid, invited me to enter. Not
being, however, either a Japanese, a blue
lobster, or a potato, I did not see any
particular object in being boiled, and so
had the fuel raked out of the furnace
and a few buckets of cold water added
before I got in.
A very tall and shabby-looking man,
a fellow that reminded yon of •*. Vagrant
let* t from a font of fo- ; v • -
exir o id ii -
our bars, last week, ai , at. ex iie_* i 3
a glass of liquor into his long throat,
blaudly asked the bar-tender if ho could
change a S2O bill. The gentleman
informed him that he could, “Well,”
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, AUGUST 16, 1575.
said the tall one, with a sigh of satis
faction, “ I’ll go out and see if 1 can
find one,” and plunged out into the
cold world on his mission.— Louisville
Commercial.
JENNY LIND.
A Very Pretty Stry of the Renowned Songstress
A Characteristic Letter.
Niagara Falls Letter to the N. O. Picayune.
There is an old friend of mine here,
Capt, St. Clair Thomasson—Capt.
Thoma3Son, who used to be “the most
popular captain on the river”—Capt.
Thomasson, who says that he is afraid
of only two things under heaven and
earth—a mad dog ahd a widow—a and
who used to believe iu Spiritualism,
until the medium told him there was a
wife waiting for him in heaven, and she
was a widow—Capt. Thomasson, whom
everybody knows, and he tells a pretty
story of the beautiful singer, Jenny
Lind, who came here on a visit when I
was a little girl in pantalettes. It
seems that she came up the river on the
captain’s steamer, the Magnolia; he
fell in love with her, of course, he al
ways does, escorted her from St. Louis
to this place and accompanied her on
the morii’ng after her arrival to see the
mighty Horse-shoe falls—when she had
drawn near enough to take in its awful
grandeur, all unconscious of the crowd
that had followed, more to see Jenny
Lind than the falls, this noble woman
and simple child of genius fell on her
knees with clasped hands, and, raising
her tearful eye to heaven, sobbed out
in broken English this touching little
prayer:
Almighty God, wilt Tliou be pleased to ac
cept my heartfelt aud most grateful thanks
for allowing me to look upon this, one of Thy
greatest works. Its creation tells us there is
a God, aud if there is an unbeliever on the
face of the earth, be pleased to bring him
forth and show liim this mighty work of
Thine.
The captain has never forgotten this
prayer. How could he forget it? and I
have given it to you, word for word, as
he repeated it to me on the steps of the
hotel last evening. He has also given
me a letter that he received from the
famous singer after her marriage. I
send you a copy ; would not part with
the original lor anything. Read and
see what a womanly woman the celebrity
was:
New York. May 22, 1852,
My dear, good Capt. Thomasson :
Yon will believe me when I tell you
that I was really glad to receive your
kind, friendly letter. I know you felt
for me, for I put great trust and earnest
confidence iu a character like yours,
and will, to my last breath, continue to
feel perfectly sure never to be deceived
in similar honest faces as that of your
kind. Do you understand that straight
forward lauguage, my good captain ? I
know you do ; and if you were here I
would heartly shake yon by the hand
and tell you how beyond words I feel
happy ; and what a rich blessing God
hath given me in a husband I not only
love with intense, warm love, but one
who I also can fully and truly respect
and admire, aud whose advices are the
wisest and purest. I did not think
when he played for you at Springfield
(do you remember ?) that I was going
to give him, and with a light heart, too,
my whole life and existence ; and little
did I fancy that he feels toward me as
he did and has done for years passed.
Mv dear, good, captain, why does not
your friend appreciate such a solid
friend as you are ? I eau not help feel
ing that you still will see your heart’s
desire accomplished, and that you yet
may, one day, from experience know
what it is to be married, and happily
married.
My most serious wishes go with you,
aud I shall not forget you, good cap
tain, and do not cease to believe that
God most surely will give you “your
heart’s desire ” as long as yon wish a
thing so holy as a wedded life. God
has shown me a great wonder in send
ing me a friend jnst when I thought;
now it is too late to expect any earthly
happiness more, and why should He
not in His graciousnoss think of you—
you are much better than I.
Shall 1 really give you what you
asked of me for your little friend?
Well, so I will. Tell her when she gets
your gift that it is the hair of a person
who truly believes that Capt. Thomas
son is made to make a good woman
happy, and that when he gives away his
heart he gives it entirely and with con
fidence.
We leave America this Saturday, the
29sh inst., in the Atlantic. Wo do not
intend to ever return to this country
again. If not we will, through the only
Mediator—the only door through which
we will find entrance to heaven—our
Saviour, our blessed, Holy Saviour—
certainly meet again, where no separa
tion, no sorrow, no grief, is to be.
Oh, dear friend! Let us prepare
ourselves for that lasting joy, and never
cease to feel that next to the immense
gift of this, our Saviour, is pure affec
tion and pure friendship of greatest
value, and that people who have felt
these feelings here below certainly will
continue to feel the same “up-stairs,”
aud therefore it is that my good cap
tain will find me even in heaven his
truly attached friend. God be with
you.
Jenny Goldschmidt, born Lind.
P. S.—My husband sends you many
kind messages.
Women Under the Hindoo Law.—
According to the Hindoo law giver, a
woman has no god on earth but her
husband, and no religion except to
gratify, obey, and serve him. Let her
husband be crooked, old, infirm, offen
sive ; let him be irascible, irregular, a
drunkard, a gambler, a debauchee ; let,
him be reckless of domestic affairs, as if
possessed by a devil; though he lived
iu the world without honor ; though he
be deaf or blind, wholly weighed down
by crime aud infirmity—still shall his
wife regard him as her God. With all
her might shall she serve him, in all
things obey him, see no defects in his
character, and give him no cause of
uneasiness. Nay, more ;in every stage
of her existence woman lives but to
obey—at first her parents, next her hus
band and his parents, and in her old
age must be ruled by hei children.
Never during her whole life can she
be under her own control, the life of
women in India must bo conducted.
The Hindoo writer was considerate
enough too add a few particulars : “If
her husband laughs, she ought to
laugh ; if he weeps, she ought to weep ;
it he is disposed to speak, she ought to
join in the conversation. Thus is the
goodness of her nature displayed. What
woman would eat until her husband has
first had his fill ? If he abstains, she
•viU fur fas* also ; if Dp i fw* wUI
be mean.
A foe to God was never a trne friend
to mam
THE -STRING OF PE ARLS.
A ROMANCE OF THE BTAGE.
The recognition by the imperial family
of Austria of the marriage of Duke
Louis, of Bavaria, with the beautiful
Mademoiselle Mendel, the actress, of
Augsbourg, gave anew aim to the the
atrical ambition of the ladies of the
Paris boards. The visit made by the
Empress Elizabeth to the beautiful
castle of lake Stalmberg, where the
newly-married couple icsided, became
the talk of every green-room in Europe.
It was reported in the coulisses of the
theatres that her Austrian majesty was
the great promoter of the marriage, the
story commenced with her brothers’
courtship being romantic enough to
excite the strongest, interest in her kind
womanly heart, and making it forgetful
of all distinction of rank, where an
equal share of love and delicacy had
been displayed bv both the lovers.
Mademoiselle Mendel, who had pre
served her reputation unsullied amid all
the perils and temptations of theatrical
life, was considered the most lovely
woman in Germany, and in her private
circle, as well as in her public life, was
the admiration of all who had the pleas
ure of knowing her. He r beauty is of
the true German type, of tlie peculiar
fairuess beheld in no other oountry—
golden hair in soft silky masses, with
out ths smallest tinge of auburn—pure
gold, unburnished ; a complexion deli
cate as the inner petals of the rose—pale
pink, scarcely ever seen m nature, and
almost impossible to produce by arti
ficial means ; lips of deep carnation ;
teeth ‘small and exquisitely white, and
eyebrows of the darkest brown, with
eyes of the deepest blue.
All -this made such an impression on
the heart of Duke Louis, that, from the
moment he first beheld her at the
Muuioh Theatre, he vowed himself to
the worship of this old idol. But Made
moiselle Mendel was valiant in defence
of ‘her reputation, and, aware of the
responsibility incurred by great talent,
esisted every overture, even that of
marriage, on the part of the dnke, well
knowing, as she did, that it was entirely
out of his power to contract any alliance
of the kind, as much was expected of
him by his family.
At that time, Mademoiselle Mendel
was in the habit of wearing a velvet
collar with a clasp, ornamented by a
single pearl of groat value, which had
been presented to her by the king of
Saxony ; and in order to quell all hope
of suocess in tho bosom of her royal
admirer, she declared to him one day
that she had made a vow to bestow her
heart and hand on him alone who could
match this single pearl with as many
others as would form the whole neck
lace. The declaration was made laugh
ingly, for the fair creature knew well
enough that the duke, living fully up to
the whole of his income, which was but
mediocre for his rank, could never ac
complish this herculean task ; and she
laughed more merrily still when she
beheld the expression of his counte
nance at tlie announcement she had
made. But soon afterward she heard
that the duke had sold his horses and
broken up his establishment, and had
gone to live in the strictest retirement
in quite a small cottage belonging to
his brother’s park.
That very night, whon about to place
the velvet band upon her neck, she
found to hor great surprise, that a sec
ond pearl had been added to the clasp.
She knew well enough whence it came,
and smiled sadly at the loss of labor she
felt sure that Duke Louis was incurring
for love’s sake. By degrees the velvet
band became covered with pearls, all of
them as fine as the one bestowed by the
king of Saxony, until one evening great
was the rumor in Augshourgh. The
fair Mendel had been robbed ; while on
the stage, divested of all ornament in
the prison scene, as Bettina Yon Arm
stedt, her dressing-room had been en
tered, and the velvet band, with its row
of priceless pearls, had disappeared
from the toilet table. The event was so
terrible, and her nerves were so shaken,
that in spite of the assurance of the
chief police magistrate, who happened
to be in the theatre at the moment, that
he was sure to find the thief in a very
short time, for he had the clue already,
poor Mademoiselle Mendel was so over
come by grief that her memory failed
her entirely, so that returning to the
stage not a word could she remember of
her part.
The audience waited some time in
astonishment at the silence maintained
by their favorite actress; the actress
gazed at the audience in piteous em
barrassment, until, by a sudden
spiration, and almost mechanically, in
deed, she remembered that she had the
rehearsal copy of tho play in the pocket
of the apron of her costume. She drew
it forth without hesitation, find began to
read from it with the greatest self-pos
session imaginable. At first the audi
ence knew not whether to laugh or be
angry ; but presently memory, pathos,
forgetfulness of all but her art, returned
to her, and, in the utterance of one of
the most impassioned sentiments of her
speech, she flung the rehearsal copy
into the orchestra, and went on with her
part without pause or hesitation until
the conclusion of the piece, the prompt
er’s aid even not being once required.
The applause was so tremendous on
her recovering her memory, that the
great monster chandelier in the centre
of the roof swang to and fro with vibra
tion. But on her return to her dress
ing-room the excitement proved too
much, and she fainted away, On com
ing back to consciousness it was to find
Duke Louis at her feet, and the chief
officer of police standing at hor side,
bidding her take courage, for the pre
cious pearls had been found.
“Where are they?” she exclaimed.
“ Are you sure that none are missing ?
Have noue been stolen ?”
Dnke Louis then clasped around her
neck the string of pearls, complete at
last, no longer sewn on the velvet band,
but strung with symmetry and fastened
with a diamond clasp. What more
could lie done bv the devoted lover ?
He had spared neither pains nor sacri
fice to attain his end, and Mademoiselle
Mendel consented to become his wife.
The empress of Austria appears to have
been so much moved by the story, that
she suggested the nomination of the
bride elect to the title of Baronesse de
Wallersee, which thus equalized the
rank of the lovers, and enabled to marry
without any difficulty. They live the
most happy and retired life possible in
their pretty little chateau on Lake
Stabnberg, where the empress of Austria
lately visited them.
They say the Duchess Louise of
Bavaria never puts off, night or day, the
necklace of pearls, tho clasp of which
sl>e had riveted the morning after its
Mo*' 1-r the T-ri'Jrr-' ifvT +>, ■'{
il
the name ol the Fairy PnGina, imm
the old German tale of the Magic Pearl.
News has been received of fresh sup
plies of guano on forty-five different
islands belonging to Peru. Some of
the deposits amount to millions of
tons.
Midsummer Fashions.
The novelty in belts is the gros grain
ribbon, more than two inches wide, and
worn about the waist, to fasten in front
on the left side in a bow, with loops and
ends reaching nearly or quite to the
knee.
Undressed kid gloves retain their old
favor and are much used uot only in
traveling, but for oountry and street
wear. Got ton gloves, for extreme warm
weather, come with kid-finish backs and
two or three buttons.
For indoors, beautiful waists and
overskirts are made of lace and insert
ings (usually white), designed to be
worn over silk and velvet long skirts,
while if the wearer is possessed of fair
neck and arms, a low bodice, without
slseves, and edged with handsome laoe,
is worn as an underwaist.
Hats of English Btraw are much more
serviceable than those of chip, and
consequently acoepted as most suitable
for traveling, and are unpretentiously
trimmed. A twilled scarf of Madras
plaid or plain silk, with or without the
addition of a wing, constitutes the
garniture of many.
The light airy dresses of organdy,
linen, lawn, and other translucent
textures, are fast being abandoned be
cause of the impossibility of that crisp
freshness which constitutes their chief
attractiveness. Instead are worn over
underskirts of silk and velvet over
dresses of gay Madras plaids, soft India
fabrics, batistes and ecru lace.
Traveling dresses are almost invari
ably made in three pieces, consisting of
a plain cuirass basque, a long, full
overskirt, simply draped and finished
on the edges, like the basque, with a
piping, a crimped fringe or other
equally simple trimming, and an over
skirt sufficiently short to esoape the
ground in walking, and sparsely orna
mented. The favorite color is brown.
Broad-heeled shoes, having a ten
dency to square rather than round toes,
furnish the favorite walking boot, and a
half-low tie is also admissible. Colored
stockings are more in vogue than ever,
and come both plain and striped. The
former are the later of the two, and
show the new reel, for which there is
such a furore. After the silk hose, the
most expensive as well as the hand
somest are of Lisle thread, and many
of them bear the old-fashioned clocked
instep and ankles.
Old Maids.
A writer on maiden ladies says : It
cannot have escaped remark that to
mauy minds in many cases it is consid
ered sufficient to condemn a cause to
say that it is promoted by “a lot of old
maids.” Sometimes they are “ stroDg
minded females ;” at others “ blues ;”
but if you want to cover them with
ineradicable ridicule, dub them “ a
bevy of old maids,” or throw in the
male friends who assist them in the
promotion of their philanthropic or
oharitablo objootn, and facetiously term
the whole “ a parcel of old women of
both sexes,” and your end is at once ac
complished. Why this should bo so we
were never able to understand. Age is
surely as honorable iu a woman as in a
man. Celibacy can be no more worthy
censure in the one sex than in tho other.
If it be, indeed the men are iu the worst
predicament; for it so happens that in
Great Britain there are a half-million
more women than men, so that the ladies
could not all get married if they would.
Nor are the professed misogynists at all
consistent in the bestowal of their ridi
cule. Let a persevering band of spinsters
strive to break down the wall of preju
dice which bars their entrance to the
suitable and honorable profession o
medicine, for the purpose of alleviating
the ailments of their own sex, and no
terms of obloquy are thought too dis
courteous to apply to them. Let Miss
Nightingale go out to Scutari to bind
up the wounds and attend to the sick
wants of soldiers brought fresh from the
battle field, and she is a heroine. The
woman as nurse may be deified, at
physician she cannot be tolerated. Let
women strive to enter onr universities,
the so-called nurseries of belles lettres
and the arts, and they “ unsex them
selves,” yet who think of “old maids ”
as they read the novels of Miss Austin
or admire the pictures of Rosa Bonheur?
Let them seek to obtain the right to vote
for widows and spinsters who have the
same qualification and fulfill the same
state duties as men. and politicians are
aghast. Yet Miss Harriet Martineau’s
“Political Economy” has been in its
time a text-book, and Miss Burdett
Coutts was made a peeress in her own
right for her efforts to ameliorate the
condition of the poorer classes of the
community.
English W omen’s Art in Dress.
We have Been something of the happy
home-life of England—wholesome, nat
ural, yet exquisitely refined—the cor
cordium of English society, and we
have seen a little of fashionable life on
one or two gay occasions. One dancing
party, though large and carrying weight
in the shape of two or three titles, went
off in the most dashing and blithesome
way, I saw there toilets on English
ladies not to be surpassed in Paris, and
worn with a perfect grace. It is a popu
lar fallacy that English women of the
upper class do not know how to dress ;
and, by the by, the injurious charge is
often made by their countrymen. There
was at that party in Gloucester Terrace
a great deal of beauty, as a matter of
course high-bred and high-colored
English beauty— and high-spirited and
somewhat low-toned American loveli
ness. Perhaps our most effective repre
sentative was a young daughter of
Horace Greeley, wlio even in London is
not only distinguished by her bloom and
the fine classic character of her head
and face, but for the perfect simplicity
and maidenly modesty of her toilet—
the fitness and fit of her dress —London
Letter.
Advice fob the Married.— Preserve
sacredly the privacies of your house,
your marriage state, and your heart.
Let not father, mother, brother, sister
nor any third person, even presume to
come in between you two, or to share
the joys and sorrows that belong to you
two alone. With Heaven’s help build
your own quiet world, not allowing the
dearest earthly friend to be the confi
dant of anght that concerns your do
mestic peace. Let alienation, if it oc
curs, be healed at once. Never speak
of it outside, but to each other conies^,
-ril] porn•• n>i rip’ N--v ■ *
i. e• • J ..
o. -it wii u ;ou t- ii _ . .
And thereby your souls will grow to
gather, cemented in that love which is
stronger than death, and yoti will be
come truly one,
R( fined Manners at Home.
There is a power in the taut ensemble
beyond that of the tailor. The coat
may be of the latest Parisiun cut, and
the man may be a beast, whose leopard
spots, all the tailor’s art cin not hide.
There is a power beyond that of gold,
which can make one forget the shabby
coat and the old fashioned dress. It is
the manner, which money can not buy,
which the tailor can not cut. But how
is this enviable address to be obtained ?
By seeking the trne and beautiful in the
divine and in the human.
“ Can you give me a general rule for
manners ?” a girl once asked her teach
er. “ Yes ; cultivate your heart,” was
the answer.*
There is a large class of people whose
full dress manners are put on and off
with the full dress. A “ society man ”
may be a perfect ghoul at home. Only
the other day, Jack, who is such an ele
gant creature at a party, stepped on his
sister’s foot in a crowd. With a low
Ixjw. and a voice expressive of the
deepest solicitude, he said, “I beg
your pardon.” But a second after,
“Oh,"is it you, Mary? I thought it
was someone else.” Indeed, if some
people who have not thought much of
the matter will take the pains to com
pare their manners abroad wi*h those
at home, they will be astonished beyond
measure.
And yet, is this moralizing ? What a
vast change might be made for the bet
ter in the home circle 1 Mariana, who
is al way polite abroad, feels at per
fect liberty to be impatient, lose her
temper, and sulk in her own family.
She “won’t,” and she “will,” and
“ Sam’s ugly,” and “ Mother’s cross ;”
yet, after all, she is probably in the
midst of those ste loves best, and those
who have most love for her.
Why not the full dress manners with
plain dress ? They won’t wear out by
common usage, but grow stronger and
sweeter, like along used flute. It would
glorify home lile. It would be an ever
recurring melodious strain amid the
roughest discords. If a man would
only be as polite to his wife as he had
been to his sweetheart, how much hap
pier some wives might be. If a woman
would try to make herself and her home
as fair and as bright as in old courting
days, the married life would lie happier.
A word of approbation, encouragement,
or sympathy, glorifies all the weary
hours of dingy toil, as the light of the
setting sun touches with gold the spin
ner and the loom in the dark factory.
Socrates walked the streets of Athens
poorly clad aud barefoot: but yet his
wisdom and virtues were such, that
after his death his statue was molded in
brass, and stood for the example of a
hero before the youth of this city.
About his home life there is not much
said, except in regard to the tongue of
Xantippe, his wife. Whether he were
altogether a martyr, or whether he may
not have been Bomewhat in fault him
self, some are inclined to doubt. Al
though his great philosophical soul
might have remained unmoved, with the
earth quaking beneath his feet, and the
rocks rending before his eyes, yet he
may have had but little patience with
Rcr evl>o*x4? fVwj kowaaßnlil in Hjliiali
she needed his a 1 vice. There are great
men, yon know, might look calmly on a
tidal wave, who might exasperate a
saint—woman, we mean—by their indif
ference to home concerns.
A mother in the country asked her
daughter, “ Annie, don’t you want to do
something for me ?” The answer came,
“ Mother, 1 wish you wouldn’t ask me
if I want to do things for you. Of
course I don’t want to particularly, but
I’m willing to.” If Annie had been
staying with her rich aunt ia town,
would she have dared to answer in this
way ? But is not more courtesy due to
a mother than any one else ?
“ He wore neither cravat nor gloves,
but his manners were full-dress.” She
wore a lovely Paris dress, but her man
ners were demi toilette. “She looks
divinely at a party,” is often said ; but
“ is she divine at home ?” cannot always
be affirmatively answered.
There is a sacred pattern—but open
to all. The beginning of such a life at
homa may be as still and silently sweet
as the opening of a rose in the darkness
of night, but its influence—ah 1 that is
as immeasurable as the heaven is higher
than the earth 1
Curing Headache with a Six-penny
Nail.
A strange and remarkable case was
brought under the attention of Dr. Tate,
of Augusta county, a few days since.
He was called to see Mrs. Taylor, wife
of Mr. Robert Taylor, living abont
three miles from Greenville, and found
that she had driven a six-penny nail into
the back of her head, which, after much
difficulty, he succeeded in extracting.
The nail had been driven in several days
previously, and by her own hand. It
was discovered by a daughter of hers
while combing her hair one day, and
she insisted on keeping tke'fact secret,
but her daughter sent for Dr. Tate, as
above stated. She told her daughter
that she had driven the nail in several
days before, with the flat side of a
hatchet; that she had been suffering
with violent pains in her head, but since
driving in the nail she had been entirely
free from them. Some years ago she
had been confined in the Western Lunatic
Asylum, and has for some time been
purtially deranged. If the nail pene
trated the skull, as I understand it did,
it is a very remarkable case, and one of
much interest to the medical fraternity.
—Richmond Dispatch.
Dangerous Haymaking. —“ Wild hay”
is the name given by the Swiss to hay
made from the grass growing on strips
of soil to be found on the Alps, at the
height of from five to six thousand feet,
iu places so difficult of access that even
the goatherd and his venturesome flock
forbear to visit them. This hay is so
valuable from its excellent quality and
delicious aroma that a regular hay-har
vest is yearly undertaken on these al
most inaccessible places in spite of the
danger to life and limb involved in the
attempt. The haymakers are shod with
iron, and secure themselves with ropes
to some sure hold when in especially
dangerous places, but fatal accidents
occur every year. It is reckoned that
one man can make a hundred weight of
hay daily. This he either carries home
at night in a net slung over his shoulder,
or stacks it on the mountain whence it
is removed in a sledge when the snow
comes. This wild hay is essential to
the maintenance of the Alpine cattle,
the produce of the valleys being insuf
ficient for their winter keep, besides
being of inferior quality to this hard
won spoil from those nooks in the ever
lasting Hills uppn whioh the sun’s nte
l % *
til* ValK -v
The most civmzea are as near to oar
barism as the most polished steel is to
rnst. Nations, like metals, have only a
superficial brilliancy,
VOL. 16--NO. 34.
SAYINGS 4ND DOINGS.
To-Mcrbow. —
O thou to-morrow! Mystery!
O day that ever runs before!
Waat hast thine hidden hand in store
For mine, to-morrow, and for me ?
O thou to-morrow! what hast thou
In store to make me bear the now ?
O day in which we shall forget
The tangled troubles of to-day!
O day that laughs at duns, at debt!
O day of promises to pay!
O shelter from all present'storm!
O day in which we shall reform!
O safest, beet day for reform!
Convenient day of promise!
Hold back the shadow of the storm.
O blessed to-morrow! Chiefest friend.
Let not thy mystery be less.
But lead us blindfold to the end.
—Joaquin MiUer.
“ You've pinned it back," he cried with grief,
“ Mach farther than you'd orter ;
Your stomach stands out in bold relief—
My darter! oh, my darter!"
During a recent tornado in Minnesota,
a couple of sheep were carried fully a
mile and landed in a tree top, and were
found pinned together by a board that
had l>een driven through the bodies of
the poor animals.
Mm definitions there have been of
a gentleman, but the prettiest and
most pathetic, is that given by a young
lady. “ A gentleman,” says she, “is a
tinman being combining a woman’s ten
derness with a man’s courage.”
It is folly to call the joys of childhood
the greatest. They are like the earliest
flowers of spring, the crocus, lovely
and richly-tinted, but small and soent
less. It is summer that brings forth
flowers of matured splendor and fra
grance.
Nature is the only workman to whom
no material is worthless, the only
chemist in whose laboratory there are
no waste products, and the only artist
whose compositions are infinitely va
ried, and whose fertility of invention is
inexhaustible.
If some are refined, like gold, in the
fumaoe of affliction, there are many
more that, like chaff, are consumed in
it. Sorrow, when it is excessive, takes
away fervor from plenty, vigor from
action, health from the reason, and re
pose from the conscience.
Have the courage to give, occasion
ally, that which you can ill afford to
spare; giving what you do not want,
nor value, neither brings nor deserves
thanks in return ; who is grateful for a
drink of water from another’s overflow
ing w< 11, however delicious the draught?
Prof. WujLIAM Hagen, of the acad
emy of civil engineers, Berlin, predicts
the failure of the jetty system now be
ing constructed at the mouth of the
Mississippi, and declares that the large
amount of money appropriated by
congress for that work will be a total
loss.
A red-headed lady, who was ambi
tious of literary distinction, found but
poor sale for her book. A gentleman,
in speaking of her disappointment,
said : “ Her hair is red if her book is
not.” An auditor, in attempting to re
late the joke elsewhere, said : “ She has
red hair if her book hasn’t.”
It was a beautiful idea in the mind of
a little girl, who, on beholding a faded
rose around which three little buds
j *■ —hfir
little brother, “ See, Willie, these little
buds have awakened in time to kiss
their mother before she dies.”
A gentleman relates, after leaving a
paper of which he was the editor, and
returning on a visit, he wrote a leader
for the new editor, and he really thought
it good—better than he had written for
months. Next day he met an old ac
quaintance with a paper in his hand.
“ Ah.” said he, “ this paper is but a
miserable thing now—nothing like what
it was when you had it!”—and pointing
to the article he had written, he con
tinued—“ Look, for instance, at that
thing ! Why didn’t that fool let you
write the article ?”
There is a story of a traveler who,
wishing to reach Barnet, had somehow
got turned round, and was trotting
along very composedly in the opposite
direction from the right one to that
town. Meeting a farmer in the road, he
drew up, and asked, “ How far is it to
Barnet, if I keep straight on ?” “Well,”
said the farmer, with a twinkle in his
intelligent eye, “ if ye keep straight on
the way ye are going now, it’s about
twenty five thousand miles ; but if ye
turn right round, and go t’other way,
it’s about half a mile.”
A gentleman who has just arrived
here from the west had a somewhat re
markable experience yesterday. Just
after the train left Fremont he and his
daughter were engaged in eating a
lunch, when the daughter removed sev
eral handsome rings from her fingers
and handed them to her father to take
care of until the lunch had been dis
posed of. The gentleman took up some
chicken bones with the hand containing
the rings, and, in a moment of absent
mindedness, threw bones and rings out
of the open window of the car. The
rings were valued at $1,700. — Omaha
Herald.
In the accessories to a lady’s toilet is
noticeable the extravagant display of
laces, Mechlin standing high in favor.
Not only are the costly kinds, such as
point de Alencon, Applique and Valen
ciennes, called into requisition, but the
inexpensive and fluffy ones, which are
immensely becoming and within the
reach of all. The novelty in belts is
the gross-grain ribboD, not more than
two inches wide, and worn abont the
waist, to fasten in front on the left side
in a bow, with loops and ends reaching
nearly nr quite to the knee; also, the
narrow Russian leather ones exhibited
in most of the shops.
The man who swears turns speech
into a curse, and before his time re
hearses the dialect of hell. He waits for
no bait; but “ bites at the devil’s bare
hook.” The shrewd Quaker’s advice to
the profane youth, “ Swear away, my
young friend, till thee gets all that bad
stuff out of thee,” points to the real
source of the vice ; for it is out of an
evil 1 eart that proceeds evil thoughts,
false witness, and blasphemies. We fear
that tie purest tongue will need puri
fying before it is fit to join in the celes
tial praise of God’s upper temple. For
that worship let ns attune our voices by
ceaseless prayers, by words of love, by
earnest vindications of the right, by
habitual “ speech seasoned with salt ”
of divine grace. The melody of heaven
will spring from a harmony of hearts ;
each voice there will bear a part in the
song of Moses and the Lamb. — Rev.
Theo. L. Ouyler.
Harmonizing Colors.— The Journal
of Education gives the following list of
harmonizing colors : Red with green ;
blue with orange; yellow with violet;
v > l " rt K o-m ViT'-n • vin'ot Gm
0 .... .. . V' -
with warm grteu ; uoop Oxuc pau i
chocolate with pea green; maroon
with deep bine; claret with buff; black
with warm green,