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VOLUME VL
“MOTHER'S FOOL.”
•• ’Tin plain to me,” said the farmer's wife,
uThese boys will make their mark iu life;
They never were made to handle a hoe,
And at once to college they ought to go.
Yes, Join, and Henry ’tis clear to me,
Great men iu this world are sure to be;
But Tom, lie’s little above a fool
So John and Henry must go to school.”
“Now. really, wife,” quoth Farmer Brown,
As lie sets his mug of cider dowr,
i< Tom does more work in a day for mo
Than both of his brothers do in three.
Book learniu’ will never plant beans or com,
Nor hoe potatoes, sure as you’re born—
Nor mend u roil of broken fence;
For my part, give me common sense.”
But his wife the roost was bound to rule,
And so the ‘ ‘boys” were sent to school;
While Tom, of course, was left behind,
For his mother said he had no mind.
Five years at school the students spent,
Then each one into business wt nt.
John learned to play the flute and fiddle,
And parted his hair, of eouise, iu the middle;
Though his brother looked rather higher than
ho
And Lung out his shingle—“lL Brown, M. D.”
Meanwhile, nt home, their brother Tom
Had taken a “notion” into his head,
Though he said not a word, but trimmed bis
trees,
And hoed his corn and sowed his peas;
But somehow, either by “hook or crook,”
lie managed to read lull many a book.
Well, the war broke out, and “Captain Tom,”
To battle a hundred soldiers led;
And when the enemy’s flag went down.
Came marching home as “General Brown.”
But he went to work on the farm again,
Planted his corn and sowed his grain,
Repaired the house and broken fence.
Ami people said be had “common sense,”
Now common sense was rather rare,
And the State House needed a portion there;
So our “family dunce ” moved into town,
Aud the people called him “Governor Brown
And bis brothers, that went to the city to
school,
Game home to live with mother’s fool.”
... . i nilnriim• ■imnuiiT—Mwi
ttljc Mm i man
THE WEDDING GIFT.
fFiom the French of Jacques Porohat.]
In the village of Mont Cheri, where
all the women are pretty, not one was
to ba compared to Rosdbine; and
though she was the poorest, all the
young men sought her in marriage.
Her companions were also very impa
ir nt that she should make a choice;
for while Rosalbine remained unmar
ried, ihey were neglected, and no
wedding could take place in the vil
lage.
Bosal bine’s father, finding himself
pressed to select a son-in-law from
among his many young neignbors,
none ol whom he wished to disoblige
promised that he would bestow his
daughter on him who would find and
bring to her this wedding gift:
‘‘That w'*ich on earth is the most
ancient, the least durable, the most
admired, and the worst treated; which
speaks without a voice, and is useful
after its death.’
When the father had thus spoken,
all the suitors pondered awhile over
the riddle, and then went in difierent
directions to seek what had been re*
quired of them. Some retired into
deep solitude, to meditate on this
great mystery; others went from place
to place, asking all whom they met it
they could tell them what ‘on earth
was the most ancient, the least dura,
ble, the most admired and the worst
treated; which speaks without a voice,
and only useful after its death ? ’
The passer-by laughed in their
faces, and went their way; and those
who h and banished themselves to soli
tude were equally fir from unraveling
the mystery. They ml bed their fore
heads, pulled their hair, and beat their
heads; but they could not make the
desired truth come forth. Some con
sulted the fortune tellers, who found
themselves as embarrassed as the in
quirers,
Who was in deep sorrow while the
young men made diligent search?. It
was the beautiful Rosalbine. She
trembled lest the secret should be
discovered by someone other than
Masael, whom she loved, and who
loved her. If she had known what it
was her father required, she would
not have hesitated to impart it to her
lover; but she was ignorant as the
others of the secret on which depend''
cd her fate. As one can indeed imag
ine, Masael passionately wished to
discover the treasure; but he did not
shut himself m solitary retreat; nor
did he waste his time in questioning
the pass* r-by or in consulting the mas
gieiaris or fortune-tellers. lie was a
good and honest boy, the son of a
poor widow, and he did not cease to
work a single day for the support of
his mother; but at the same time lie
sought silent'y to divine the happy
secret.
Rosalbine’s father received frequent
visits from his young neighbors, wh<>
came, with an air of triumph, to offer
what they imagined to be the wedding
gift. The pretty one trembled and
waited, with her eyes fixed on her
father, for the fatal word, and only
| breathed freely after hearing the in
variable reply —
‘lt is not that! ’
And the lovers, after a mosi hum
ble obeisance to the ungrateful Rosal
bine, would retire with tbeir gifts, and
with sad faces.
One day, while Masael working in
the field, a magnificent butterfly align t
led uear him and attracted his atten
tion. This butterfly was unlike any
Ihe had ever seen. It was of extraor-
Idiuary size, and had blue, heart-shaped
I wings, bordered with red. On its
I head was a kind of crest, which one
■ might have mistaken for a cluster of
Idiajnonds,
After giving the young man time to
■admire it leisurely, it took flight and
L rcled four times around his head, as
if to salute him. The young villager
(having bat one thought in his mind,
(addressed the wonderful creature, and
■said :
‘Beautiful butterfly! art thou a kmd
(fairy who takes pity on my trouble,
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MAROT 7, IS7S.
and comes to tell me what I so long
to know? If I have guessed rightly,
come, I pray thee, and alight on my
hand, and b‘* assun and thy confidence
will not be abused/
He had scarcely ceased talking and
hardly reached out Lis right hand be
fore the butterfly rested upon it It
moved its brilliant wings, and looked
steadily at the young man, who ex
claimed: ‘Thou hast understood me,
beautilul butterfly! Canst thou end
my troubles ?’
The butterfly made an affirmative
sign with its pretty head and blending
body.
‘Wilt thou be my guide?’ said
Masael quickly, already full of hope.
‘I will follow thee till I have found
the treasure for which Rosalbine’s
father asks/
When had ceased to speak, the but
terfly flew away slowly, in order that
Masael might follow, towards the
meadow, where it alighted on the
first flower.
‘Patience / said the son of the wid
ow to himself. *A butterfly cannot
give up its habits. I will wait and
folbw when it changes its place/
But the butterfly did not move, and
Masael repeated his prayer. Then
his guide fluttered about the flower
and suddenly flew toward heaven,
circling like a lark, and came down
like an arrow to the flower it had just
left
‘What / cried Masael, ‘are we not
to leave here? Amiable fairy, I be
seech thee, let us hurry on our way.
Show me what there is on earth the
most ancient, the least durable, the
f
While uttering these words he had
a sudden inspiration; he smote his
forehead and cried out:
‘I have found it! It is even this/
,Ad running to the flower, which the
butterfly had left, as if giving it up to
him, he plucked it and pressed it to
his heart. The butterfly having alight
ed on a neighboring flower, Masael
gathered that also. In a few moments
they had been over the mcadow r , and
the young man noticed that his guide,
never alighting twice on the same sort
of blossom, bad arranged for him,
with perfect, a bouquet of field flow
ers, the most beautiful ever 3eeu.
Arriving at the eod of the meadow,
the butterfly flew four times around
his protege’s head, and circling up
wards in the air, disappeaied in the
sky.
Full of joyous h pc, Masael ran to
the house of Rosalbine’s father, and
presented the bouquet to the young
daughter. To the fatner, who was
already smiling he said:
‘The flowers preceded the fruits on
the earth; nothing is more ancient
than flowers— nothing is less durable;
one admires them above all things,
and one treats them cruelly; the hand
tears them from their stems; the
scythe cuts them without mercy; they
speak without a voice, for they have
for the lover a mute language. Finally,
in order that they may be useful, the
hand of the botanist, the teeth of the
cattle, and the steel of the mower,
must take their life!’
Rosa!bine's father said to Masael:
‘Be thou my son-in-law; tor thou
bringest to my daughter the wedding
gift I have asked for her/ —[Wonder
World.
A Country Editor’s Way.
The sayings and doings of the coun
try editor are not so notable now-a
days as in the old times when rural
papers were rarely conducted on a
cash basis, and the plaints of the
worried fellow on the tripod, who ac
cepted cordwood or dried pumpkins,
or almost anything eatable or saleable,
lor subscriptions, were frequent and
painful and free. Men in desperate
straits are afflicted with strange
whimsies, and the expressions of those
disgusted literary lights were often
strikingly original and exceedingly
grotesque. Now, however, things
are different, and rarely does the coun
try editor excel in his old specialty.
A reccDt case over in Kentucky,
where an editor “spoke right out/' is
therefore exceptionably notable. He
was walking upon the street, enjoying
the balmy spring atmosphere, and
wondering whether, in the year to
corne, his paper would be established
upon a, paying basis, when he became
aware of a sudden giggling and tit
tering behind him. He turned and
saw the source of the merriment.
Two well-dressed ladies, prominent in
the town, were in his rear, and laugh
ing heartily. Much to the poor edi
tor’s surprise, their attention seemed
especially directed to some peculiarity
about his exterior. Then he divined,
with a thrill of mortification, the
cause of their amusement.
twisting and writhing, while grinding
out mental productions, seated in a
hard-bottomed chair, had told upon
the frail texture of his pantaloons, and
the cloth I.ad finally yielded. The ed-
wife—good, thrifty woman—had
repaired the damage as best she could;
but, because new cloth matches poor
ly with the old, the evidences of her
handiwork were all too plainly visible.
Hence the crnel laughter of the ladies
behind the country editor. The poor
man fled to his office in shame. Then
his manhood asserted itself, and he sat
down upon the patch and wrote some
thing for the paper. His next issue
contained this paragraph:
‘As we walked past a couple of la
dies on the street the other day, one
of them observed a large patch on
our pants, and made merry over the
discovery. Well, we do wear old
clothes, it is true; but we might aflord
to treat ourselves to better ones if the
husband of the woman we refer to
would come to the office and pay us
$lB, which he has been owing for a
long time for subscription and job
work/
‘Doubtless, 4 said a logical old Eng
lish clergyman, ‘God might have made
a belter berry than the strawberry,
but doubtless, God never did/ Doubt
less s ime country editor might make a
point more neatly, but doubtless none
ever did. If that little bill of $lB
was not settled up within a week af
ter the appearance of Lis paper, then
there is no virtue in pungency. And
the occurrence is a recent and literal
one.
True Hospitality.
True hospitality is a thing that
touches the heart and never goes be
yond the circle of generous impulses.
Entertainment with the truly hopita
ble man means more than the mere
feeding of the body; it meins an in
terchange of soul gifts. Still it should
have its laws, a* all tilings good must
have laws to govern them.
The obligation to be hospitable is a
sacred one, emphasized by every mor
al code known to the world, and a
practical outcome of the second great
commandment.
There should never be a guest in
the house whose presence requires any
considerable change in the domestic
economy.
However much the circumstances of
business or mutual interests may de
mand in entertaining a stranger, he
should never be taken into the family
circle unless he is known to bo wholly
worthy of a place in that sanctum
sanctorum of social life; but when
once a man is admitted to the home
fireside he should oe treated as if the
place had been his always.
The fact of an invitation gives neith
er host nor guest the right to be mas
ter of the other’s time, and does not
require even a temp nary sacrifice of
one’s entire individuality or pursuits.
A man should never be so much
himself as when he entertains a
friend.
To stay at a friend's house beyond
the time for which one is invited is to
perpetrate a social robbery.
To abide uninvited in a friend's
house is as much a misdemeanor as
borrowing his coat without his per
mission. It is debasing the coin of
friendship to mere dross when a man
attempts to make it pay his hotel
bills.
The fiwet of tAvo men having the
same occupation and interests in life
gives to neither a social right to the
other‘s bed and board. A traveling
minister has no more right to go un
invited to a fellow-preael)er‘s house
than a traveling shop-keeper or shoe
maker has to go uninvited to the house
of his fellow craftsman. Men are or
dained to the ministry as preachers,
teachers, and pastors, and not as pri
vate hotel-keepers.
They who go into the country in
summer as uninvited guests of their
farmer friends should be rated as so
cial brigands, and treated accordingly.
These few social maxims are by no
means to be considered as a complete
code of laws. Others quite as impor
tant will spring up out of the person
al experience of every reader of this
article, and the justice and equity of
all may be tested by that infallible
standard of society—the golden rule.
There can be no true hospitality that
in practice is a violation of this rule;
and you may safely rest assured that
you have given the fullest and most
perfect measure Of entertainment to
your neighbor if you have done ex
actly as yon would be done by.
A Terrible Liar.
“He was the crfullest liar I ever
seen,’’ said Cooley O’Leary, as we
returned from his friend’s funeral.
“W.y, he told me that he lived on a
small island in the Pacific ocean on
which there was a volcano. And he
said there was an active demand out
in that region for watermelons, so he
went into the business of raising them.
And lie said one year his whole crop
failed except one melon, and that kept
on growing at such a fearful rate that
it crowded him oil" the Lowland and
up the side of the volcano, which gen
erated steam and caused an explosion
which blew up the whole concern to
atoms, and shot him four hundred
miles out to sea, where he was picked
up by a whaler. He used to tell that
one great mistake of his life was that
he didn’t drive a plug in the crater of
the volcano so as to make it water
tight, and then slice ojen the water
melon, and come sailing home on the
half-shell.
He would lie. He said that once
he was cast away on an ice-berg,
with no baggage but a pair of skates
and a fishing-pole. But he skated
aiound until he came across a dead
whale, frozen into the ice. S> he took
off his shirt—it was night for six
months that year up there—tore it
into strips for a wick, run the strips
through a bamboo fishing rod, stuck
the rod into the fat of the wale, and l*t
other end. He said it burned splen
didly, and the iceberg reflected the
light so strongly that it was bright as
day for forty miles around, and one
vessel ran into the iceberg, thinking
it was a light-house. He said be sda
the iceberg to the captain for $15,000,
and the captain split it up and took it
home and made 200 per cent, profit
disposing of it to ice companies.
Lie ? well, sir, he beat any man I
ever came across. He told me that
once, out in Nevada, a mountain lion
attacked him, with his mouth wide
open. He had presence of mind enough
to grab it by the tongue and pull. The
lion roared with pain, but lie did his
level best pulling, and pretty soon the
tongue began to give and the tail to
shorten, and directly out they came,
the tail and the tongue in one contin
uous string. He said he had ’em at
home, and he showed ’em to me; but
my be’ief is they were only three or
four cow-hides and a bull’s tail dove
tailed together.
lie was astonishing os a truth
crusher. lie said he served on a gun
boat during the Avar Avhich was very
small and light, while the mortar on
deck was very large and heavy, and
he said the first time they tried to fire
a fifteen-inch shell, the shell remained
stationary, while the recoil Avas so
great that it fired the gunboat for
miles up the strem and landed it in a
j tree. He Avas a liar, but he’s dead; I
reckon he’ll catch it ”
There was do doubt about it; Mr.
O’Leary was very successful as a con
structor of energetic works of fiction.
Gravity is no more evidence of wis
dom than a paper collar is of & shirt.
♦*♦> .
A fool seeketh to pick a fly from a
mule's leg. A wise man lettetli out
the job to the lowest bidder.
Those who have tried it say kissing
is like a sewing machine, because it
seems good.
—
"W hen a young lady hems a hand
kerchief for a rich bachelor, she prob
ably sews that she may reap.
* A kind w'ord spoken to a husband
go farther than a broomstick or a flir
tation, 1 says a woman of experience.
Old minds are like old horses; you
must exercise them if you wish to
keep them in working order.
If the man who writes anonymous
letters has never stolen sheep, it is
probably the fault of the sheep.
This engine won't work, said a fire
man to the chief of a fire department.
No, sir, replied the chief, it was made
to play.
- ~♦
An editor, referring to air-tight cof
fins, says: ‘No person having once
tried one of these coffins will ever
use any other.*
Gians, where do you live ?' 'Across
de river mit de turnpike by der school
as you go up mit der right hand on
de odder side/
In Virginia, when a young lady de
clines an offer to convey her home, the
lover asks permission to sit on a fence
and see her go by.
Mrs. Partington says she may bo
old now, but she has seen the time
when she was just as young as ever
she was.
Give a man brains and riches and
he is a king. Give a man brains
without riches and he is a slave. Give
a man riches without brains aud he is
a fool.
A Frenchman writing a letter to a
friend, found on looking in the diction
ary that the word preserve meant to
pickle, wrote, “May you and your
family be pickled to all eternity P
. .
Josh Billings says: 'The mewl is a
larger burd than a goose or turkey.
It has two legs to walk with, and two
more to kick with, and wears its wings
on the side of its head. 1
An old, rough clergyman ones took
for his text that passage of the Psalm*,
‘I said in my haste, all men are liars. 4
Looking, apparently, as i£ he saw the
Psalmist standing before him, be said:
‘You sai lit in your haste, David. If
you had been hero, you might have
said it after mature deliberation. ‘
A colored man who was lately re
suscitated from what seemed death,
but was only cataplepsy, was enters
taining bis friends with the sights he
beheld iu the other world.
colored brethren in lleav>
en, I spec, Tom/
'Ob, yes !' said Tom.
'Aud how about hell—any down
there V
'Ob, yes, plenty ob deal dar too/
'Any white folks, Tom ?'
Lord save us, dar ain't no end on
'em; but gosh, ebery white man done
g ;t a nigger holdiu' between him and
de tire.'
so. 10.