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VOLUME VI.
THEN ANI) NOW.
£be stood at the threshold at evening;
She was clad in her bridal dress;
She knew he was ready to greet her,
And she longed lor his loud caress.
"fwas the robe she would wear on the morrow
And she wanted her lover to see
How fair was bis chosen flower —
liow beauteous his darling could be.
And hepe with her glittering fingers
Bade her look to the life before,
And she smiled in the mirth of her spirit,
As she stood at the study door.
Years passed—three short years of gladness—
And the stream of her young life flowed
Like the stream of a laughing rivulet
When the sunshine knows no cloud.
And again does she stand on the threshold
Where she stood on that happy night,
But her eyes are no longer laughing,
Her dress is no longer white.
And the sorrow that plays o’er he r features
Is as dark a* the robe she wears,
And a wreath of undying flowers
To lay on the dead she bears.
For he never again shall greet her;
He shall rise to receive her uo more;
The voice whi<-h she loved is silent
As she waits at the study door.
Then her step was so firm and eager;
It is now so subdued and low;
Then ’(was he who had stooped to kiss her;
Hho must kneel to kiss him now.
■■ ■ •
THE WIIISTLEK,
From the Providence Journal.
Frogs have their time to croak and owls to
hoot;
The patient flutist hath his time to toot;
The fiddler tiddleth when his work is done, *
But thou, O bore, hast uo set time—ah, none,
To whistle,
IVe know when Bangs will play his horn of
brass,
And Diugleby his flageolet, alas!
be know when comes the dulcet fish-horn’s
tone,
But, hang it, thou hast all times for thine own,
O whistler!
b hen old pianos have worn out an air,
And voices crude have torn it very bare,
Ihy puckered mouth doth still emit the strain,
But all our prayers that thou shouldst cease
are vain,
0 whistler!
hong after honest folks have gone to bed,
b earied with toiling for their daily bread,
Iheu thou, 0 lazy, long-eared, midnight bird,
'Ahd many imprecations still art heard
Whistling.
1 call thee bird—one of the shrill-voiced sort;
ior ’tis quite plain that music’s not thy forte;
Ikou shouldst be feathered as the vultures
are—
You get the feathers, I’ll produce the tar,
O whistler!
MISCELLANY.
AN UNGOVERNED TEMPER.
HOW IT WAS CUItED.
‘llain, rain, rain. 01), will it never
cease this constant dropping? Each
drop seems like molten lava tailing on
tty head—my heart. Why did I say
those cruel words to Harry this morn*
ttg about the set of corals—unjust to
him and so unwomanly in me ? My
hitter, uncontrollable temper is the one
har to our happiness '/
Ami Susie Allen pressed her anxious
-ace against tire window, peering out
ttto fast gathering darkness, hoping to
see Harry appearing in the distance,
hhe rain was falling in torrents, and
she could see but a few yards off; and
vv ith a heavy sigh, she turned, again
occupying herself in pacing slowly to
tro through the pleasant parlor of
her house.
At each return towards the window
S usie would again pause, hoping to
hear the welcome footsteps. The clock
proclaimed the hour of seven.
One hour later than ever before.—
M hat cau have befalleu him V
And Susie rnoaued in her agony.
Harry and Susie Alien had been
married near six months, and had
mai ried for love. Harry was doing a
good business ; Susie’s father present
ed her with a charming little cottage
at Hornsey; and house keeping com
menced under happy auspices. But
aias! there is a skeleton in every
household ; and here it showed itself
all too soon in Susie's indomitable will
and bitter words of anger when cross
ed in purpose.
She had an intimate friend—what
woman has not ?—and in that friend
she bad chosen, not wisely, a young
widow, a few years older than herself,
and who believed in woman*** right to
rule. Possessing a good fortune, left
her by her husband (whom gossips said
she had henpecked to death—perhaps
they were unjust) she was very inde
pendent, and wished to model every
woman in the same mould. She found
Susie a happy wife, and felt at the
same time that Susie was too happy
and too fond of Harry. So she became
very fond of the little wife, studying
her weak points, and by degrees learn
ing the \m and outs of their daily life.
Summer was approaching, and the wid
ow wished to visit Wales, and of
course wanted agreeable company.
‘Susie, darling, where are you and
tiiat charming husband of yours going
to rusticate this summer ?'
‘lndeed, I have not given it a
thought. We haVe been so happy
here/
‘All, yes, it is divine here—a perfect
Eden. But then everybody goes some
where in the summer. You wouldn’t
think of leading a humdrum life here
all the season. Say, my little dove,
wouldn't it be charming?*
And Chrissy Marble put her hand
under Susit/s chin, and drew her pret
ty face up to her, kissing her, as a
mother fondles a child.
‘Oh, yes it would indeed, but Harry
I fear cannot leave his business/’ she
said.
‘Fie on Harry’s business ! Are you
always to remain in one spot because
your husband is a merchant ? Just
insist upon going. You are took meek
my dear. My motto always was, ‘No
yoke for me V I always carried the
day with my husband/
‘That's the only discord Harry and
I have. He says, business before pleas
ure is tlie motto of all successful mer
cantile men, and so far he has yielded
to me/
‘Were he my husband he would
yield. The idea of you, a young girl,
leading a nun's life, for fear business
may suffer ! By the by, did you get
the set of coral we admired so much?'
‘No ; Harry said we could not afford
it We had a quarrel this morning,
and I said lots of ugly things ; but he
is very firm.’
‘You are spoiling him. Mark my
■words, in one year's time he'll be a
perfect despot/
‘But I am chatting away my whole
day. I must go now ; but do not let
Harry say no to the tour/
‘Not if I can help it, I assure you,'
said Susie,
And they parted, the widow pleased
at the determined look on Susie's face,
and Susie wishing Harry did not have
any plodding business, or that Chrissy
had not led her to think there could be
any pleasure outside of home.
Harry came home at length, bound
ing lip three steps at a time. He took
Susie in his arms and piroutted around
the room two or three times ere he
spoke ; and then kissing her, tossed
the wee girl into an easy chair and
laughingly said :
‘F‘ow, my little darling, get breath
and tell us how glad you are. lam
home for a happy evening all to our->
selves/
S > you are to give me a whole even
ing/ was the ungracious reply’.
‘Why 7 , Susie, what's the matter ?
You are not annoyed because I was
detained an extra hour by business ?'
‘Business —business is all I hear !
I wish you loved me half as well as
you do business/
Harry possessed good smse ; and
seeing Susie’s perverse mood fort-bore
to answer. And just then dinner was
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, APRIL IS, 1878.
announced; and as she arose, he put
his arm about her, and humming a
gay tune, led her to the dining-room
He attempted,and partly succeeded in
restoring her to good nature. Still,
he felt something was working beneath
the surface.
After they returned to the parlor,
he proposed music; and they sang and
played tbeir favorite airs for some time.
Then seating themselves for a chat,
Barry said, ‘Now, darling, tell me
something/
The answer to this usually was, ‘I
love you;' but to-night Susie put on a
business look, and said, ‘I wish to talk
with you about the summer. Where
are we going fir the season ?'
‘Going ? Oh, we cannot leave our
bird’s-nest here long ! We will take
a run out in the country, to Uncle
Ben’s, at Pinner, for a week or two in
Vugust ; business is generally dull
then/
‘Uncle Ben's—business ! I think
that would be going in the country.—
Nothing of the kind for me ! I want
to make a tour, and would prefer
Wales. We need not be gone more
than four or five weeks. I think you
may venture to leave that detested
business of yours for that length ol
time.
‘To Wales ! well, well, my little girl
soars high ; but I fear does not think
of the expense of such a trip. Ah, no !
Susie, tours oi that kind must be left
to the luture, when our house is found
ed on a rock/
Susie's eyes flashed with angry fire,
she sprang from the sola.
‘Do you think, Harry Allen, that I
am going to immure myself in this
little pen until I get old, wrinkled md
gray, just for your love of business !
No, indeed—l will not submit to it. I
will go to Wales this summer. You
can stay here and rust, if you wish to.'
And Susie, nursing her wrath, left,
the room ere Harry had time to an
swer.
Harry dropped his head upon his
hands ami sighed bitterly. What
should he do to please his idol ? How
could he best open her to the fact
that his endeavors, is what she termed
sacrifices, were all made for her pres
ent and future happiness ? Susie had
already retired, and spoke not a word.
Soon all was quiet; and Susie, waiting
until she knew by Harry’s breathing
that he was fust locked in Somnus’
arms, could control herself no longer,
but broke out in uncontrollable sobs
—why, she could hardly have told,
only that she did not conquer.
Morning came, and the first word
spoken was by Susie, at breakfast —
‘Harry, I wish to commence prepara
tious to-day for the future jaunt.—
What is your decision V
‘My dear, I am sorry to thwart your
wishes. Still, I must positively refuse
to make the tour proposed. I would
be only too glad to jdease you in
this—in everything. You cannot un
derstand matters as I do ; hut darling
trust my judgment, and oelieve it is
right.*
‘Well, can I form one of a party go
ing V
‘Would my little wife leave me and
go on a tour of the kind with strange
ers ?'
‘Yes, rather than be thought singu
lar and poverty-bound by my friends.
I think fifty pounds w’ould cover the
whole expense/
‘Susie, sorry am I but I must insist
upon your giving up this journey.—
You cannot liavf3 my consent to your
going/
Aud Harry took his hat preparatory
to leaving the house.
‘You dare to say I shall not go ? I
say to you I will go ! And I wish
you would leave the house this morn
ing aud never return to it till your
business can take care of itself. It's
all 1 hear and all you care for/
And Susie turned away as Harry re
plied, ‘May you never be sorry for
those words/ and left the house.
Susie's anger kept at its boiling heat
until high noon, and she resolved up
on many modes of action, all of which
were thrown asid■*. almost as soon as
formed. Had Chrissy Marble stepped
in she would have found ample field
for work ; but the widow did not hap
pen to make her appearance. So Su
sie was left to her miserable knowledge
of her inconsistences for company. As
evening approached, she watched each
moment which moved so slowly to her
impatient heart.
At length there was a ring at the
belt Susie flew to the door, and
opening it, said—‘Harry, darling
Har '
The name broke upon her lips. Her
husband was being borne between two
men.
‘Don't be frightened, ma'am ; your
husband fell from the train when it was
in motion at the Hornsey station, and
struck his head upon the platform.—
Let us hope that it is not serious.
Susie, paralyzed, led the way to the
parlor and sofa. As she knelt over
him, the fumes of brandy came from
the parted lips. With agonized look,
she murmured the name of the nearest
physician. He was speedily brought,
and it was some time ere pulsation re*
turned. The doctor gave but little hope
.of his recovering consciousness again,
Susie‘s plea was, ‘Save him, oh, save
him ! Let him speak one word if no
more.'
Finally he revived a little; and all
that night, and fir many a day after,
lay babbling insanity, of Wales, his
lost Susie, his vain endeavor to save
her from falling from off one of the
highest peaks ; and anon begging her
to c.tst aside the friendship of the mis
chief-making Chrissy, and take back
those cruel words. And Susie, con
science stricken, never left his side ;
but ministering to every want, con
tinued her ceaseless petition for one
word of forgiveness, one ray of light
across that darkened mind, that he
might know his Susie was not lost to
him or his love.
'fen days had passed since that
fearful night ; and Susie, pale as the
lilies in the vase by her side, sits,
scarcely breathing. The crisis is at
hand. The one of life and death, is
stretched to its utmost tension. Will
it break or relax ? Oh, in that hour
was crowded whole years of agony 1
At length Harry feebly opened his
eyes, and Susie leaned over that be
might see her face.
‘Susie 1' was the single word utter
ed.
Susie, with a suppressed sigh of
joy, impressed kiss after kiss upon his
lips and said :
‘Harry, am I forgiven ?'
Feebly he raised his arms and clasp
ed then) about her, said :
‘Let’s forgive and iorget/
The doctor returned, and bid Susie
seek rest,gave Hairy some cordial,and
bade him sleep In the morning he
was much better; and Susie, by his
side, confessed her fault ; and Harry
too, in feeble tones, told of his reck
lessness in drinking brandy to drown
grief at Susie's perverse temper.—
With chastened spirits, they renewed
their vows of love and truth in each
other.
Mrs Marble always found Susie
gaged’ when she called, and from that
time Susie has forsworn all intimate
friends.
The Heathen’s Goblet.
There was a wonderful truth in the
goblet which the genius of a heathen
fashioned. Having a model of a ser
pent, he fixed it to the bottom of the
cup. Coiling f>r the spring, a pair of
gleamtug eyes*in its head, and in its
open mouth fangs raised to strike, it
lay beneath the ruby wine. He who
raised the cup to his lips to quench
his thirst and quaff the wine, could
not see what lay beneath till, as he
reached the dregs, that dreadful head
rose up and glistened before his eyes.
So when life's cup is nearly emptied,
and sin's last pleasure quaffed and the
bitter dregs are being drained, shall
rise the ghastly terrors of remorse and
judgment upon the despairing soul-
J3e assured a serpent lurks at the bot
tom of guilt’s sweetest pleasures.
What a Boy Knows About Girls.
Girls are the most unaccountable
tilings in the world—except a woman.
Like the wicked flea, when 3'ou think
you have them they ain't there. I
can cipher clear over the improper
fractions, and the teacher says I do it
first rate; but I can’t cipher out a
girl, proper or improper, and you can’t
either. The only rule in arithmetic
that hits their case is the double rule
of two. They are as full of old Nick
as they can hold, and they would die
it they could ;iot torture somebody.
When they try to be mean they are as
mean as pusley though they ain’t as
let on, except sometimes, and they are
a good deal meaner. The only way to
get along with a girl when she comes
to you with her nonsense, is to give
her tit fir tat, and that will flummix
her. and when you get a girl flunimix
ed she is as nice as anew pin. A girl
can sow more wild oats in a day than
a boy can in a year, but girls get their
wild oats sowed after a while, which
boys never do, and then they settle
down as calm snd placid as a mud
puddle. But I like girls fir/t rate,
and I guess all boys do. I don’t care
how many tricks they play on me—
and they don't care either. The £oity
toityist girls in the world can always
boil over like a glass of soda. By and
by they will get into the traces with
somebody they like and pull as steady
as an old stage her e. This is the
beauty of them. So let them wave, I
say; they will pay for it some day,
sewing on buttons and trying to make
a decent man of a fellow they have
spliced on to, and ten chances to one
it they don't get the worst of it.
Teacli the Children Honesty.
One of the most important lessons
to be learned from the stories of the
sad moral wrecks with which the
newspapers are filled, is the importance
of teaching- children to be scrupulously
truthful and honest in little things.
Great sins always begin in small ones.
No man becomes suddenly a hardened
criminal.
There is no safety, save in early
and rigorous training in virtue. Chil
dren should be taught to abhor a lie,
and to despise cheating and dishonesty
even in its minutest forms. The grace
of God should be unceasingly invoked
to render this teaching effectual, Pa
rents that are thus faithful may be dis
appointed. Inherent evil tendencies
seem sometimes to defeat the most
vigilant watchcare. But, as a general
thing, those children will best do bat
tle with the temptations of this pres
ent evil world, who are most strongly
fortified against it by sound parental
counsels, and, tnost cf all, by sound
parental example and life.—-[ Western
Recorder.
A story is told of an editor who
died, went to heaven and was denied
admittance lest he should meet some
delinquent subscriber and bad feeling
would be engendered in that peaceful
clime. Having to go to some place,
the editor next appeared in the re
gions of darkness, but was positively
refused admittance as the place was
full of delinquent subscribers. Wearily
the editor turned back toward the
celestial city, and was met by the
watchman of the portals with a smile,
who said: ‘I was mistaken; you can
enter, there are no delinquent subscri
bers in heaven/
‘Edward/ said a mother to her son
a boy of eight, who was trundling a
hoop in the front yard; ‘Edward, you
must not go out of that gate into the
street/ ‘No, ma, I won’t/ was the
reply. A few minutes afterwards his
mother saw him in the street manufac
turing dirt pies. ‘Didi/t I tell you/
she said angrily, ‘not to go through
the gate?’ ‘Well, 1 didn’t, mother/
was the reply, ‘I climbed over the
fence/
Transparent sleeves are so fashiona
ble that grenadine sleeves will be
made this summer without lining.
Enny man who kan swap horses, or
ketch fish, and not fie about it, iz just
about az pius az men ever git to be in
this world.
After a man gets to be thirty-eight
years old he kant form enny new
habits much; the best he kin do iz to
steer biz old ones.
A negro teamster in Nashville de
clares that lie must either give up
driving mules or withdraw lrom the
church, the two positions being in
compatible,
A lazy boy near Stanwix, lias con
quered the kindling wood question.—
lie just backs his father's best mule
against the wood pile and throws the
milking stool at it.
‘That’s our family tree/ said an Ar
kansas youth, as he p anted to a vig
orous hemlock. ‘A good many of our
folks have been hung on that tree for
borrowing horses after dark/
♦
A matt was sitting for his photo
graph. The operator said, ‘Now, sir,
look kind o' jyleasunt. Smile a little.'
The man smiled, and then the opera*
tor exclaimed, ‘O.! that will never do.
It is too wide for tube instrument!’'
A olothier has excited public curios
ity by having a large apple painted
on his sign. When asked for an ex
planation, he inquired: ‘lf it hadn’t
been for an apple, where would the
ready-made clothing stores be to-day? T
...... ■ -
A poetess weighing 16(f pounds s
yearns “to twitter as a bird on some
lone spray/' When she gets on U
spray and begins to twitter, there Is
going to be an item for the local pa
per, unless the spray is as thick as an
underground gaspipe.
Said him to she; ‘Wnat is the dif
ference between a hill and a pill?’
Said her to he; ‘One is hard to get
up and the other is hard to get down.
It is old but good.’
Said him to she: ‘Do you allude to
the hill or the pill?'
Maria is a very popular name in Il
linois. When a cat climbs a back
fence in a well populated neighbor
hood and plainly calls out ‘Mar-i-ar/
twenty or thirty windows are thrown
up, from wlqch hastily protrude twen
ty or thirty female heads, wildly an
swering ‘What?'
A lady who objects to profanity
because it is both wicked and vulgar,
writes to know what she ought to say
when a clothes line breaks and lets a
week’s washing fall in the mud. She
ought to say: ’Blessed are the meek,
for they shall inherit the earth;' but
probably she will not think of it.
‘Why haven't you got married be
fore this time of life?' querulously
asked an old man of his nephew.
‘Well, uncle,' replied the nephew, ‘l'm
sure it is not my fault. I proposed to
throe girls only last -week, and, on
comparing notes, the whole of 'em
unanimously rejected ray offers.'
An exchange says there is a man
out West so dirty that the assessors
put him down as real estate. This
reminds us of the soldier who, while
home on a furlough during the war
called on the wife of a brother soldier
to tell her the latest news. *Ab,' said
she, ‘perhaps by this time poor Jim
mie’s under the soil ot Virginia.'
‘Perhaps so/ replied the vieitor, *l.e
was an inch under it when I last saw
him.’
SO. 16.