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VOLUME VL 1 HE FUTURE. bt e. b. v\ > Ob, the dim, uncertain future! With its ever varying hues; Sometimes bright and full of pleasure; Sometimes giving one the blues. Ob, the changes that may wait me! Going down life's thorny road, I can only ask our ltuler For the strength to bear my load. How T wonder if my footsteps Will be traced to wrong or right; And if I shall lose or conquer, in this wobds great fight. Will my life be vuin and fruitless? Will it come to nought? Will I find no vietc ry waiting When the battle’s fought? Will 1 have the strength and courage, Evtr.in the fight To work for truth and justice? To distinguish wrong from right? What doth life bring to us creatures That float adown its tide? What will we find to meet us When we reach tho other side? Is it really worth the living, All this care, and toil, and pain, Where we meet so many losses, And so very little gain? •‘lt is neither joy uor sorrow To live this life of ours;” It is not a happy dream-land Filled with strange, sweet flowers, Neither is it always gloomy, With toil and care oppressed, For we have some hearts to love us— Some to love and be caret.sed. % So we find some bright days Mixed in with cloudy weather; So we find some lovely flowers Growing down among the heather. But it is our duty here To work and labor ever ITt right, and troth, and justice, Mid to falter never, never. So what fate mav hold for mo I will not seek to And, hat will pray for strength to ever fie so true, and just, and kind, Unit when I reach the journey’s end, And the roe nil there is given, 1 will not bo ashamed to meet One act, one thoyght, one word in lieav’n. —Chicago Ledger. MISCELLANY' The Turn of Fate; OR The Sacrifice Averted. Itv WALTER GARDINER, ESQ. Twas a beautiful inland stream that •lowed by rich, yellow cornfields and meadows of purest green, in its tor turns course to the blue sea. Miles and miles and miles away it mingled with salt water, and was lost in its H >tle expanse, but here it. rippled sweetly along, and glistening like a !; ne of diamonds set in emeralds and topazes. It was the pride of Maple Lawn, , this little river. In summer, snowy sails dotted its hiosorn; in winter, its congealed sur ace was alive with merry skaters. Inis day tlie June sunshine caused car'll ripple to scintillate with beauty, 01 ‘ perhaps 1 should have said each "uve, for there was a lively breeze. !, i‘t there was only one on its waters ~~ a Let of rare occurence—and that Vas skimuiing along like a bird, the 'pfoy dashing from its bows, and the 'Lite sail filled smooth. L the stern wth the tiller in his ‘ l ‘ IL hand, and his right near the cleats, su a youth of almost effeminate beau b’, which was only relieved by the 1111 lips and bright steady eyes, b-t his left- on the port "side, w r as a }°uog gi r ] } not beautiful, but possess-* ; ‘o an irresistible power of attraction ‘ :i her calm, tender face apd large lr °wii eyes. Her lips, red as the ruby and deli cately curved, were just apart, reveal ‘n the tips of her white even teeth. Isn't it lovely, Nellie?' said the • '"‘th glancing at the glistening spray H the singing waters. es,’ she replied in a low voice, ag “ giZ 'd away over the warm, rich nil,lr y, fertile in fiuit and beauty. He have known each other ever " ,lte We were children, Nellie; and h ive never exchanged an unpleas int word, never,' he continued, slowly, 1 the reflection made him happy, smiled that glowing, sympathet- ic smile which was beauty in itself, and bent her brown eyes upon him. H was answer enough—he did not care for words—he could read a sweet er answer in her glance. It woulcj be hard to separate now to sunder all the dear old ties, and to tave no future to look forward to—no future wreathed with the flowers of the past, wouldn’t it, Nellie?* Ills voice was modulated agaiii to that yearning tone as he Uttered the last words. •Yes, Rupert, she answered frankly, a faint color stealing over her face. ‘We could never be happy, I think neither of us, if we should try to for get our life here and the bright hours we have together. It seeni3 to me that our lives have already become a pai tof each other. Why, we never see a book, an animal, or even a curin ous cloud on the sky, but that we must have each other’s opinion of it before it becomes beautiful to us. Our tastes, our thoughts, our hopes are en twined # and may I never live to see them torn apart—that’s all * It was the rapture of a young, in. iiocent heart, uncorroded by the cares of the world. Nellie Hannover averted her head that he might not see the great tear drops in her eyes. Ilis words found an ectio in her own nature. In their yeats ot close companionship, she had given her first, best and purest love to Rupert Maylie. ‘lf' there is anything true in this world—some people say there is not, you know—it must bo our love for each other, Nellie; I don't believe that time or distance will break it. Tnere must be some redeeming qual ity m weak, human nature, and that must be love. We can't have peace without love. You I know, that we are dearer to each other than life itself, and knowing this we can not but remain true. I wouldn’t bind you by' a promise in set words to re main true t> me, because I believe nothing would make you do otherwise, ami I am sure you feel the same to wards me.’ ‘Are you going away, Rupert?’ she asked tremulously. ‘Yes, to-morrow,’ he replied in hoarse voice, and then he arose, loosened the lanyard from the cleats, and then springing forward, eased the rudder and took in the sail. Nellie burst out weeping with a childish abandonment to grief that was touching from its very innocence. Her true simple heart kuevv no disguise; her nature, obedient to natural feel ings, untarnished by polite deceit,, sought solace in tears. Rupert, struggling to maintain his composure, seated himself in the waist and shipped the oars. lie must have something to take his attention from Nellie's grief and his own sad thoughts and so he rowed with a sort of despe ration, until he came to a little inlet opposite the maiden’s home. Guiding the frail craft towards its mooring place, he drew in his oars and leaped ashore. Not until the boat was made fast, and he ready to help Nellie out did he speak, then he begged her not to weep, and nearly choked himself in forcing the words from his lips. ‘I can't help it, Rupert,’ she exclaim ed as she placed her hand in his and stepped upon the land, then she cov ered her face again and he, winding his arm around her waist, guided her to the little grove just behind the house. Here they sat down upon a rustic seat. Minutes passed in s’lcncc. e l shall come back, Nellie, and the.*. \v3 shall happy, fer we shall Dever .part again. It is true it will be a long time, two or three years perhaps, and great changes may take place, but I shall think only of you, and the little h >ilc we are to have, where we shall be as happy as two people can be on earth. It will all come, darling. I believe it to the depths of my soul. We hare only to be patieut a little while/ he said, pressing her slight form close to him. She covered her face and tried to smile, but the effort ended in a sigh. ‘I shall write to you every week, and oftener if I cau, and tell you of my prospects, and in thinking of the joy to come you will shorten many long hours. You see, dearest, there are no griefs without some rays of gladness,’ he continued caressingly. Her cheeks reddened with a grate ful flush, her eyes shone upon him witli devotion in their clear depths. lie gazed upon her with veneration, as if she were indeed a creature of ethereal mould, and then he embraced her again with all the fervor ofayearning heart. '] he setting sun crimsoned the west with his parting rays. ‘I must now leave you, my beloved,' said Rupert arising, but still holding her quivering hands in his. *We have memories of the past to cheer us # and hopes of the future to repay us for the cad present. There, I must cease or I shall lose my voice—man as I am. dearest.' She was still and pale now, and her features gleamed cold with grief. She shivered as his last warm kiss greeted her, and then, turning into another path, she walked slowly toward home, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped firmly together. ****** ‘lt is the only way, my child.' John Hanover uttered these words in a low, wailing voice and gazed up on his daughter iu mingled supplica tion and despair. She stood before him like a statue, her arms folded across her her lips firmly com pressed, and her white face rigid with a terrible sorrow. ‘lt’s the only way,' he went on fran tically. ‘I am ruined! I strove for money—l have reaped dishonor. I am au old man; I have but a few years left, and unless you marry Martin Farnsworth, 1 shall spend those few years in prison—my name and family disgraced forever.' ‘Great Heaven! is it so bad as that?’ ‘Yes—one breath would hurl me in to a felon’s cell. It is appalling, it is maddening, but it is true. 1 confess it with shame, for I am an old man, and years should have made me stron ger and nobler, but— ’ He paused, a spasm of pain distort ed bis features, his hands clenched his white hair, and tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. Nellie shuddered, and her blood seemed to turn to ice in her veins. The sweet past seemed a field of the dead strewed with blighted hopes. Sho saw her only parent bowed with an awful grief, and she the only one who could save him, but at the sacrifice of her conscience, heart, and earthly happi ness. Was it right to ask so much? ‘Will you do it? Think how I have nourished you in my heart, how I have loved you,’ he cried, placing his quiv ering hands on her shoulders and ga zing wildly into her face. ‘Will you keep mo from prison—from ail infa mous death?' It required all the girl's strength to control horeelf. Years had given her fortitude, else she would have gone mad under this mental strain. ‘Let us talk calmly, father. One hour can make no difference in the re sult either way. Tell me exactly how you are situated.’ ‘I have overdrawn my bank account to a large amount, and sunk it in spec*, ulation. Farnsworth is manager of the bank. He holds me in his grasp But why repeat these harrowing de tails? I cannot consider them—it racks 1113 brain. Speak, Nellie, it is useless to a>'gue. s ‘Be patient, please. This house and land will bring more than that.’ ‘Oh! you wiil craze me, girl—you pierce my heart with your ignorant words. This place is mortgaged, and has been for months. I can’t sell it— I am hemmed in—l have no resource but you.' ‘I must bury my very life, and yield myself up to a stranger as a ransom for your liberty? Father, in your sor row do you give one thought to the sacrifice you ask of me?' *Of course I do; but ycu arej'oung and you will learn to love him. You will forget your infatuation for Maylie, and rejoice in saving your poor old father and his name from blemish.' ‘Oh, Heaven, give me wisdom!' cried Nellie, working her fingers to gether, and raising her eyes upward imploringly. John Hanover gazed upon tremu lously, his lips pirted, and his breath coming thick and fast. He could not look into her heart, and see the strug gles there; he could only thinK of his own peril, and his natural desire to keep his name unstained. Moments passed, aud the gill yet stood silent and prayerful. f oh, child, don’t prolong this ag’ony —don't. I wish 1 had another chance, but I have not —I have not,' he moan, ed plaintively. ‘Father/ she said, her voice clear and Arm, ‘I have looked at this in its every phase. What you ask of me is wrong. I love you; but I must be just to myself. One has no right to ask another to sacrifice all that earth holds dear, that one may escape the conse quences of one's own acts. I seem harsh. I am only practical. I will EASTMAN; GEORGIA; THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, IS7S. share your grief with you, but I can not sell myself and break my plighted troth. NOj Heaven requires no such sacrifice from woman—it is wicked.' 'Then you will see me dragged away and imprisoned! Ob, thankless child! I did not think you would desert me—' ‘Stop! I have not deserted neither do I intend to do so. You think me selfish, but never dream that you were selfish in asking this monstrous sacrifice. What has woman to hope for in this world but love? Oh, father, reproach me not lest your own words make you miserable!* Was this strong, brave woman the little NelUe of five years ago? Ah, how nobly had grown those lit tle qualities which were then hidden, but now shone forth in majestic gran deur. ‘I will tell you what we are to do.— have the house sold, pay off the mort gage, leave the surplus to Farnsworth, aud we will seek another country.' ‘What? You are losing your reason Do you counsel me to fly like a thief ? Are these my daughter's words?' 'Dishonor must come. lam willing to share it with you. Were Ia parent, my own disgrace would be preferable to such a course as you have proposed. Seek not to distort my words; I choose the lesser evil. I would escape with you from the clutches of this rapacious man, who makes you need the price of your daughter's lifelong happiness. I will bear with your poverty, odium, misery, but I will not sacrifice my woman's heart.' Her slight form expanded, her face glowed with the inspiration of resolu tion, Iter eyes gleamed brilliantly, and her little clasped as if in pray er, showed where her faith and con sciousness of right were anchored. ‘Then adieu to everything I have held dear. Your father becomes a fu gitive--a hunted criminal at your be hest. 4 And share the infamy,’ she answered composedly. ‘Do you dream, foolish girl, that Ru pert Maylie will ever look at yoiq much less love you after this ?' 'I believe in his truth. If he should prove treacherous that would not make my actions wrong. Whatever comes I shall have no remorse.' ‘Your trust is childish,' he exclaim ed in mingled anger and grief. You wreck your family name for a weak, selfish passion. Well, let it be so, but when I'm gone, you will repent and think of my anguish.' ‘ls not mine as great ? Oh, father, forget not my sufferings in nourishing your own!’ Her father bent his head upon his hands and groaned. He could not sje that her sorrow and disgrace came of his act, that they would last through more years than his, he only felt his own needs. No more was said., and Nellie went to her own room to reflect in solitude upon the great and terrible change that was about to come on her life. The following day Mr. Hanover made tiis arrangements to carry out his daughter's advice, but with shame, re gret and dismay. He was still blind to her feelings, aud thought she had acted ungrateful ly. In the afternoon, much to her aston ishment and terror, Mr. Farnsworth called, and Nellie was summoned to the library. There was no appeal now the man had suspected that John Hanover was trying to outwit him, and he was de termined to have the affair settled at once. The crisis had <;ome unexpect edly, but it must be met. Nellie, very pale but composed, en tered the apartment, and bowed, with cold reserve, to the bank manager. Her father anxiously and tremulous ly regarded her beseechingly. ‘I suppose it is needless to make any extended explanation/ said Mr. Farns worth politely ; but with a certain ex ultation in his tone. *1 am here to so licit your hand in marriage, Miss Han over. As you are aware, lam a man of position and great wealth— ’ ‘ Then give my father one month to raise money to pay your claim/ inter, posed Neliie fearlessly. ‘Pray don't intrude matters of busi. ness just at this time, he resumed, smiling. ‘I offer you m3 7 hand. I crave 3 7 our answer.’ ‘For Heaven's sake, Nellie, remem ber me/ whispered Mr. Hanover, his face ghastly, his form shaking like a leaf. ‘I ask a week for consideration, sir, at the same time thanking you for the honor 3’ou would confer upon me/ she replied. ‘You can have one hour,' said the suitor witli a mocking bow; at the end ot that time I shall return to this room for your answer. Mr. Hanover, we will leave the lady alone, if you please.' The father arose and accompanied his master from the room. Nellie sank into a chair and pressed her hands to her brow. What should she do ? The hope of escape had been even sweet compared with the alternative, but now it was thrust back upon her. Unable to bear alone the tumult of feelings that rack ed her heart and brain, she dropped upon her knees and prayed with the fervor of a pure aud devout heart. A half hour passed. She looked up and beheld a strong, handsome man ing before her his eyes bent upon her affectionately. She knew that face, though time had placed its disguising marks upon it # yet she could not speak —her voice seemed lost in the wonder that flooded her mind. Nellie, my own sweet love. My little Nellie ! c ‘Oh, Rupert!’ . She flew to his arms and nestled her head upon the breast where in child hood she had rested when tired with play, where in girldhood she had felt the impulse of love, and where now in grief she found the first “moment of comfort that had been hers for months But it lasted only a few minuteSj then her distracting thoughts returned in full force, and she glanced at the clock It lacked but five minutes of the hour. Hurriedly she told her lover of the position in which she was placed, and begged his advice. He I tad not time to answer, ere the door was pushed open and Mr. Farnsworth entered. Pausing and gazing at the lovers with disdain he said : ‘Ah ! I really beg pardon. It would be superfluous to ask for an answer under the circumstauces,Miss Hanover- I regret that your father must—you un derstand. Mr. Hanover was directly behind him and as he heard these words his spirit sank within him. ‘Stop one moment, Mr. Farnsworth ' interposed Rupert, coming forward.— ‘I h ive a word to say. John Hanover owes nothing to you or your bank. I have a certificate to that effect in my pocket.’ 'Very glad, I'm sure.' Yes, doubtless. Look at me again. You know me now. I saw your wife just before I came away— ’ •Insolence ! Be careful, sir.* ‘Dont bluster or brag. I had occa sion to chastise you once, and if you tempt me I will Jo it again. I am boy ish yet in some respects. Now listen to me. You have done decently well siuee you have beeu here, and your money has got you a position, but you have treated your wife shamefully.— She is a good, noble woman, and if you don't return to her, and behave yourself, I’ll make the place too hot to hold you, within twenty-four hours.— When I say something you know I mean it. Dont let me hear any eva sions or threats, but tell me if you will do as I command.’ Wes, but you’ll bear from me again, Rupert Maybe/ hissed Farnsworth, clenching his hands. Bah! Leave us and be cautious how you act. With muttered anathemas, the dis comfitted suitor withdrew,j and/ Mr. Hanover glanced from his daughter to Rupert iu amazement. ‘You placed the money to papa's credit, didn't yoa, Rupert ?• asked Nellie, the lovely light beaming in her brown eyes. ‘Yes, darling. I found ou this affair in a singular way. One of the tellers of the bank —an acquaintance of mine —wrote to me of the circumstances, and I resolved to come on at once.— How did I get so much money ? For tune has been lavish of her favors. I am a partner in a large mercantile house ; and an uncle left me quite a large property. I told you, my beaut’, ful, my blessed, that we should be happy.‘ ‘And you deserve to be, my noble boy/ said Mr. Hanover, grasping his hand. ‘The logic of events has proved my Nellie right. Heaven bless yon both. And Rupert returned to town with Nellie as his bride. —Sunny South. Do not put off God to old age; for old, lane and sick sacrifices rarely reach as high as heaven. W hy is a woodpecker like a tramp? Because he bores lor Ins grub. 1 A Woman’s Conscientiousness. [Haverhill [Mass.) Gazette.] Perhaps the reader has noticed while journeying upon the Boston and Lo well Railroad, at Willow Bridge Sum eiviile, a plain but substantial brick house upon the hill, only a moment's walk from the station. Its doors have not been opened for twelve years.— Twelve years ago one of the brightest and smartest mechanics to be found in our bustling city-—young, h andsome whose apparent fortune was his daily wages, of which he was very careful, saving all he could for the bright ob ject of ids life, which was to marry her whom he had won, as soon as they could get money enough to commence housekeeping—was engaged to a char ming young girl. She was conscien tious to a fault, brought up in the most Puritanical ol Puritan lainilies, good, pure and beautiful. One bright morning in spring ho invited her to take a drive in the suburbs. They halted after an hour's drive in front of this house. He asked her how she liked it. Of course she wished it was theirs; they could be so happy if they only had a home Lke that. He invited her in. The house had just b( en com pleted and very nicely furnished. — Judge of her surprise when he quietly informed her that the property was his, that he owned it. Why, she was completely dumbfounded,and, of course wanted an explanation. How, when did he come in possession of so much property? He tried to avoid the ques tion, but she was firm. He finally told her that he drew $20,000 in some lottery scheme, and with its funds built aud lurnisbed this home for her. She turned upon him a3 though he was the veriest gambler, vowing then and there that she would never be his wife until he gave back the property he had gained by what she termed unlawful mans. She scorned all efforts of his to occupy the house. They separated; parted at the door, which has not been opened since. Tim furniture remains the same to-day as when they left it twelve years ago, except what age has done. Both are wanderers upon the face of the earth, both lives blasted. A Romp. Don’t scold your daughters for romping. Outdoor exercise will do them good. It is not enough to have calisthenics in the nursery or parlor. They need to be out in the sunshine, out in the wind, out in the grass, out in the woods, out-of-doors somewhere, ifitbeno bigger than a common or park. Suppose they do tan their pretty faces. Better be brown as a berry and have the pulse quick and strong, than white as a lily and com plain of cold feet and headache. Sup>- pose they do tear their clothes; sup pose they do wear out their shoes; it don’t try a mother's patience and strength half so much to wash and mend as to watch night after night a querulous, sick child, and it don't drain a father's pocket-book half as quick to buy shoes as it does to pay doctors’ bills. Children were nev. r meant to be nursed like bouse plants. Mauy people are puzzled to under stand what the terms '‘fourpeuny“ and “sixpenny,“ k and “tenpenny“ means as applied to nails. Fourpennv means four pounds to the 1,000 nails, or six penny six pounds to the 1,000, and so on. It is an English term, and meant at first “ten" nails (the 1,000 being understood ;) but the old English clipped it to “tenpun,“ and from that it degenerated until penny was sub stituted for pounds. So when you ask for fourpenny nails nowadays you want those of which 1,000 will weigh four pounds. When 1,000 nails weigh less than one pound they are called ticks, brads, etc., and are reckoned by ounces. There were five of them, says the Sacramento Bee, and they had assem bled in a cigar store near Capital Ho tel. The subject was in regard to horse racing. Said a hack driver who was present; ‘Talk about your fast time. Why. I’ve seen a horse trot a mile in 1:90/ ‘lmpossible/ said the cigar store proprietor. ‘lt can’t be done. The best time I ever heard of was 2:141/ Said the hackmau: ‘l’ll bet you five dollars I can prove what I say.' Taken by the cigar man, coin put up, and referee chosen. In a drawling voice the hackman explained to the man of cigars:—‘Don’t you know, you idiot, that 1:90 is two min utes and thirty seconds?’ Turning to the stakeholder, the tobacconist then sad: ‘Give him the money: it's worth five dollars to know what a fool I am ’ Any man pa3's to much for his whis tle when he has to wet it fifteen or twenty times a day. "W hy are mosquitoes like lawyers? Because they begin to make trouble as soon as they arc admitted to the bar. The girls of a certain town place a blue ribbon and a mitten on the table when their lovers come to visit them, and say, ‘Choose/ There’s no place like home—unless it’s some nice young girl’s home,when the old folks are at class-meeting and the match box is empty. m Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise; but early to ryes and tardy to bed makes a man’s noso turn cardinal red. ‘Why is it, my son, that a foreigner with a glass can never vote in this country?’ ‘Because, my respected pa ren, he can never be natural eyes-d.’ - ‘Suppose I should work myself up to the interrogation point?’ said a beau to his sweetheart. ‘I should re-* spond with an exclamation,’ was the prompt reply. * -♦ An old lady from the West said she never could imagine where all the Smiths came from until she saw in a New England town a largo sign:— Smith Manufacturing Cos, Cider maj be a good temperance * driiik, but I kan manage to get so drunk ou it that I kaut tell oxarof'the 10 commandments from a bi-Jaw of a base ball klub.—[Billings. Don’t trundle your baby boy Jar a carriage with his face toward you. Com. Ado. Thank you! So kind! Bi we never do. In fact, wc don’t use v them at all. Baby boys, we mean. A young roan, just returned from New York, when asked where he put up, said ho didn’t know the man’s name, but there were three balls in front of the door. He *put up’ his watch to raise funds to get home. An Illinois woman has written to one of the assistant postmasters-gen eral to pick her out a good young man for a husband. She thought his ex* perience with the mails would give him an advantage in the selection. Don't tell a man you sweat. It is vulgar. Infirm him that you are be* ing deprived of the saline aud oleagin ous fluids of your material substance through the excretories of your pel lucid cuticle, with a sensible conden sation of moisture upon the superficial exterior.—[Exchange. A Sunday school boy only six years old was asked by bis teacher ‘why they took Stephen outside the city to stone him to death.' Tiie little fellow was silent for a moment as though ab sorbed with the problem, when bright ening up suddenly he replied, ‘so that they could get a better crack at him. f •♦“*♦■ . A doctor, while escorting a lady home one evening, offered her a troche to relieve her cough. He told her to let it dissolve gradually in her mouth. No relief was experienced, and the doctor felt quite chagrined the next day when the lady sent him a panta loon button with a note saying he must have given her the wrong kind of a troche, aud might ne,ed this one. ■ ‘Have you a card, sir?' asked the doorkeeper of the house. The man looked a little surprised, and auswered: Card? No! I don’t carry a pack/ ‘Where are you from?' inquired the doorkeeper. ‘Nothe Carliny/ was the reply. ‘What do you do down in when you go a visit ing? Don’t you send in a card to the man you want to sec?' The tar-heel laughed outright. ‘Lors-a-massy!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, we ride up to a feller’s fence and holler to him to tie his dog; and then we light and go iu/ NO. 34.