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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,