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VOLUME VII. g L 7 jJf\ V MAKE <JHILt>HOOI> SWKET. Wait not till tbo little hsOids are at rest Kre you fill them full of flowers; tVint liD for the cfowuing tuberose To make fcweet the lust sad hours; Hut while in the busy household baud Vour darlings still need your gitidiug hand; Oh, fill their lives with sweetuess! Wait not till the little hearts tiro still, For.the loving look and phrase; lint while you peutly elido a fault Tire deed kindly praise; The word you would speak beside the bier Fall* sweeter far ou the Jiving eir, i)b, fill young live* with sweetness! Ah! what arc kisses on clny-colcl lips To tLe rosy mouth we press, Wliou'Cmi w: ■oue flies to her mother's arms for love’s tenderest caress] Let never a worldly bauble keep Your heart from the joy each day should leap. Circling young lives with sweetness] i{jlire thanks each morn for the sturdy boys, Give thanks lor the fairy girls; With a dower ot wealth like this at home, Would you rifle the earth for pearls? Wait not for 'Gath to geru love’s crown, Hut daily shower life’s blessings down, And fill young hearts with sweetness! Eemcmber the homes where the light has fled, Where the rose has failed away; And the love that glows in youthful heart*, Oh, cherish it while you may! And make your home a garden of flowers, Where joy shall bloom thro’childhood’s hours, Aud fill joung lives with sweetness! —Christian Register. MISCELLANY. Marion of the Moors. i&mmSgk A wide stretch of breezy moorland, corned with purple heather, a sky whose radiant sunset tints were fast .fading into neutral gray. Far in the ■distance some slowly rising spirals told warmth and shelter. It was a grateful sight to the eyes of a young man who had lost his way among the seemingly interminable solitudes, broken only by the sound of a startled rabbit, or whirring wing of a frightened p*r~ Hndgt. Shouldering his game bag he at once durned his Jsteps toward the welcome harbinger of home comfort. As lie reached the modest cottage dt# paused almost unconsciously, and looked upon the family group just as they gathered around the table for th< i (vening meal. I hen he passed •i »nd gave a busk rap at the half open door. fft was answered by a young girl./— Doffing his cap the stranger said : ‘I am alone and have lost my way among the moors. Can you give me die wherewith to break my last, and a *d’f that a directing hint homeward, tome in/ said the tanner^ who had Hovud M.u.on to the door. You e vve come to aught we have, hat I *" ^ lst » dien it will be time to taring, llaste, Mat ion, and Set a chan lot the youth, and bring not porridge.’ Marion obeyed, Louis DeMornay’s eves following her with a look of won dor ^fking iu tfieif* dark but brilliant depths. How had such a pure white Wy blossomed from such a rugged “tern, with a skin so soft that the blue veins upon the temples could be traced ‘ 1 n ' ath it, and eyes so large and clear ln pie ' r unclouded blue that he could ta; riy imagine them tinted from the fk* ’fsell as they looked out from wav. ln g masses of sun-bright hair, fastened ' by the modest sheen of blue rib boa. Pouts DeMornay was a young Cu Pan *’bo h*d lately fallen heir to large ’ S 'ates, both in England and upon the continent. One of these was a fine luting seat in Scotland, where he was ^pending' being f the Autumn months ; and 0 • romantic temperament, it wa 8 a great pleasure to biiu to sally 0 " t w ‘thout his gamekeeper, aud to hit way over the country alone. This was the first time he had become ew ildered as to location, aud with the Mtusiasm of his tropical nature, he a <Fd a si'ent but earnest thanksgiv ,n S to the old cottager's blessing tbe over food th ey were about to partake ; for it was to him like the hand of fate lha J hc ^ been l*d to the home which Ds 11 bied such a maiden. Ne *“r in his wandering land and over fair sea, had his eyes rested on one sc - -nd like L some blossom that ma "‘ 8 folded in it erlyx for and then a years b ms * 8 onpe into loyercompell- * \ ing beauty, so did his heart open to receive into it sweet Marion's image. She could bnt feel the influence of his Magnetic glance, and color Jstole softly into her cheeks; and tfie blue eyes ccarcely dared lift themselves from out the ahtbusli of the fringed lids as she listened lo his conversation with them. Why did hej heart flutter so with pleasure when he accepted an invitation to remain until the morrow? See was glad to seek the solitude ot her room to question and chide her¬ self. What had this fiery-fingered man to do, with her simple Cottage life ?— Yet the memory of those burning glan¬ ces would come back and fill her soul with sweetness. All unwitting of the true attraction* farmer McGregor responded to the young man's expressed desire to try his hands at the birds upon the sur rounding moors lor a few days, by a cordial invitation to him to remain as his guest. In his sturdy pride it never entered his mind that his child would think of liftinghcr eyes to that of a dark stran ger^ who, though to his knowledge a man of rank and consequence; was not all to his taste in looks, with such midnight dark hair and eyes, and a complexion like a Spaniard, though lie well ^1 iked to talk with hint and to listen to his tales of other lands and cities. So it came upon him like a shock, when after his stay bad lengthened in'o weeks, he sought him one morning and told him the real attraction. It was his pearl—his •— liily—it was Marion. The old man's lips opened at first for a burst of atiger^ but lie was his guest. He had eaten of his salt, lie controlled hitnscR and answered quiet¬ ly, but with a firmness which argued ill for the young man’s suit. ‘My (laugher must marry in her own station, when the time comes.— She’s over young yet to make her choice. You do us honor, by your pro. posal ; bnt the time will come when you will thank me for seeing the fob ly of this unseemly union. ‘Sir^ she shall be cherished as she deserves to be, if you will only give her to me. The DeMornays were nev. cr known to be aught but a chivalrous race. Think again I bog yon. I love your daughter so truly that it can be bui she returns it. Such a fire could not bui'H without creating at least a a shadowy flame. ‘Have you not spoken to Marion^ yourself. ‘It is the custom of my country 'jo speak first with the father/ and the young man raised his head proudly to meet the old farmer's questioning look, H have sought you first/ *That is well, I should ill like to have my daughter unhappy. I avisli you well, sir, aud success in all else you undertake.' ‘The wish, without the gift I seek, will be bnt little good. You take the spring out of my life, and then hope the machinery will work.' There was a little sting in his voice as j ie S p 0 k Ci but Duncan McGregor was unmoved. Marion was his one little lamb, and no stranger could claim her, unless it was a youth alter her own heart. Tt’ue to his code of honor, Louis de¬ parted without telling Marion of his feelings, although he did not intend to give her up. A f ter he had gone Marion dropped She made a brave effort to keep up, but it was to no] purpose. The light died out of her eyes, aud the soft bloom left her cheek. Her father noticed the change and taxed her with it. ‘I hope it’s net moping you are after that dark stranger, Marion, He's naught attractive to my way of think¬ ing. He’ll not be back, either, for he got more from me than he looked for.’ ‘Oh, father! Tell me, what do you mean/ The blue eyes looked unnaturally bright as they gazed up into the old man's stern face. ‘I mean that what I told him is true, and the sooner you put thoughts of him out of your mind the better it will be for your peace. No lad from foreign parts, with such a blackamoor face, can marry my snow-white lass. A sudden joy kindled the pale face and looked out of the wide eyes. ‘Oh father, did he ask you for me ?» Then heaven will be praised ! I read his looks and acts aright. Oh/ said she, sinking down upon her knees and catching her father's horny hand and kissing it. ‘I had lost my faith in hu man nature, and you have given it back. Bless you for it ! Ob, father, if that face could tell a false story,then EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20, the angels themselves would be un« true ‘Calm yourself Marion/ interrupted her father sternly. Did you not hear me? It's all at an end. You cannot be his bride. It would be like the mating of the crow and the du*e.‘ l I care not, so lie loves me/ mar mured Marion softly. ‘Hear my vow ' she added, suddenly, arM again she sank upon her knees and raised her pure, childlike but resolute face to his. ‘I will never marry Louis DeMornay without your consent ; but I will love him my life long, and die a maid for his sake if I cannot be his wife/ It was too late to check her. The Vow had been taken; and would be kept* Thd strict old father himself would not have dared to ask her to break it. Matters went on about the same at the farm. Several years passed by, during which Louis was constantly changing his position, as indeed it was necessary for him to give personal su¬ pervision to his various estates. During tin’s period of unmitigated prosperity to the wealthy youug land owner, farmer McGregor had been gradually but surely going down in the world. A succession of bad crops, a disease among his fine Durhams, until scarcely a poor half dozen remained of his large herd, and a murrain which proved fatal to the sheep, left him at last in a very strained condi¬ tion. Still he had managed to get his rent money together. Tne pa)-day was near at hand, and the farmer had put the hardly earned money in a leathern wallet preparatory to a start. ‘Well, wife/ he said with a sigh, •here's pay for the last year. It’s main doubtful, though, where the next will come from/ ‘Keep up, Duncan/ was her cheer¬ ful answer. It's all for the best, though one cannot know always just why. 7 So ho started away to the Lird‘s country seat on his stout cob, without a weapon of defense, for it was a peace, able country, and he had no fear of molestation. But his journey was not half over when in some lonely woods through which the road ran, an escaped convict seized his opportunity and knocked him senseless from his horse, rifled his pockets, and mounting, lode rapidly away with all his plunder. About half an hour later he was found by the game-keeper of an ad¬ joining estate and taken at once to tl e big house and cared for. 1 he master was away but the house-Keeper was kind and efficient, and under her good offices ho soon came to consciousness, but not s to the ability to help himself. One blow had fallen - on his shoulder and it proved to be dislocated. There was no alternative but to remain, per¬ haps for weeks. So the good woman sent for Marion to come to her father, having, by judicious questioning, as¬ certained that she was the light of his ok! eyes next to the good wife, who, of course, could not be spared from home duties. Marion camp, much to her father’s delight. The day after, the young proprietor arrived also. The house¬ keeper at once told of his stranger guests, and lie hastened to assure them of his cordial welcome. Asffie entered the room Marion arose from beside her father’s ’bedside, and after one surprised glance, held out her hand, her eyes shining like twin stais. It was Louis DeMornay. Ilis face brightened with a suddeu light as he went forward. Taking her two tender hauds in his own, he turn¬ ed to the old father. ‘See/ he said gravely, ‘It is the will of God that you should give me Mari¬ on for my owu. Her steps have been led to my roof tree by the hand of fate. She is to me the most precious treasure iuthe whole world. Will you not give her me V The old man looked up into the dark, earnest face. Its expression of sincer¬ ity could not be misintei preted, and in spite he became for the first time conscious of noble, manly beauty.— Then, too, Marion's vow ran through his ears, and he turned his eyes on her, which wag like an April morning—first smiles and then tears. At last he reached out a trembling hand and placed it ou Marion’s bright head. ‘ Fake her/ he said hoarsely. ‘It is God’s will, and tfie lass loves you. I’m not sure if I wouldn't give her up, but that the poor bairn might soon be with¬ out a sheltering rooftree. The world's not gone wcil for me of lat**, young man/ ‘That is because you slighted Love, and the little tyrant is angry,’said Lon. is, playfully, as he turned and looked questioningly into Marion’s blushing face. ‘Little one, is it true ? Do you love me ? Lo>k up and tell/ She tried to raise her blue eyes to bis, but their radiance was too power fid- Her sweet lips Uembled, but be fore the words came they were drown¬ ed in a shower of tears. Thus they were betrothed/ Flinging Money Away.’ Times may he hard and work scarce but there are people who seem to be able to bowl along pretty gaily in the rush of old time extravagance, arid make the dollars fly profusely. An instance in point was related to a De¬ troit reporter by a lady who had wit¬ nessed a curious scene in a fashionable millinery establishment. This lady had gone in with the intention of purchas¬ ing a bunnet. Having made a choice of one costing $14, it was beiug put for her, when a lady, the wife of a mer¬ chant, and somewhat noted for 110 ? pronounced costumes, entered on the same errand. 'liie whole establishment was |rau sacked to please hjr ; bonnets and hats from $20 to $50 were rejected as “rather common/’ cheap material/' etc. Finally, the milliner exhibited a bonnet the exact counterpart of that sold a few minutes before for $14, and demanded $75 for it as the most re¬ cherche piece of head-gear in the es¬ tablishment. On tins presentation it was accepted and purchased at once, paid for, and ordered sent home.— When the purchaser had gone the lady first mentioned said to the milli¬ ner: ‘How could you have the conscience to charge her $75 for just such a bon¬ net as you let me have for $14 V ‘Madam/ replied the shrewd business woman, ‘that lady has to be charged five prices or she will not buy, and there are a dozen like her whom I can name. Do you know that she lias such an idea of extravagance that when for once in her life she went to o der some roast be< f from a leading butcher in the central market, and the butcher said he could give a beautiful cut for ten cents a pound, she snapped back, ‘You ought to know better than to think we can eat 10-cent meat/ ‘Oh/ replied the butcher, ‘we can give you some at 18 cents/ and he has ever since supplied that family with meaf at 18 cents, which other people get at 10 cents.’ lhis is a fact. It may be pleasing to remark in this connection that the husband of the lady obtained a settle¬ ment with his creditors a couple years ago on very easy terms. A Happy Woman. What spectacle more pleasing does the world afford than a happy woman, contented in her sphere, ready at all times to benefit her little world by her exertions, and transforming her briars and thorns of lite into roses of Para dise by the magic of her touch? There are those wffio are thus happy because they cannot help it; no misfortunes dampen their sweet smiles, and they diffuse a cheerful glow around them, as they pursue the even teno? of their way. They have the secret of eout mt ment, whose value is above the philos¬ ophers stone, for without seeking the baser exchange of gold, which m »y buy some sort of pleasure, they eon vert everything they touch into joy. What their condition is makes no dif ferenee. They may be rich or poor, high or low, admired or forsaken by the wicked world; but the sparkling fountain of happiness bubbles up in their hearts and makes them radiantly beautiful. Though they live in a lo cabin, they make it shine with luabe that kings and queens covet, and they make wealth a fountain of blessings to the children of poverty. Happy wo men are the highest types of humanity and we cannot say how much we owe to them for the progress of the race. A thoroughgoing infidel, who had no religious belief whatever, and was glad that he hadn’t any, was recently stricken with paralysis at his house a few miles west of Utica. When he recovered consciousness and powers of speech, his first request was that some one would read him a chapter of the bible. —--- The holiday season approaches, when a young man must show his gift enterprise. The Two Murphy’s. A good story is told of commedisn Joe Murphy. It was during the “blue ribbon’'* excitement, and Joe was journeying to a small town in the vicinity of Pitts burg. As the train steamed into the depot, it was boarded by a half dozen men, who, after a hurried confer ence with the conductor, the comedian with beaming faces. ‘Mr. Murphy, I believe/ said the spokesman of the crowd. ‘I am at your service, sir/ replied Joe. ‘Delighted to meet you, sir. We are the committee appointed to take you in charge/ and they fairly dragged the astonished Joe from the car, put him in a carriage, and they were soon whirled swiftly away. ‘God bless ns/ thought the exponent of Irish peculiarities. ‘This is very kind. Never was in this town before. A man's reputation does travel and that’s a fact. In a short time they reached to ho¬ tel, and the committee having placed Joe in the best parlor suite, prepared to depart. ‘We will call for you after supper, Mr, Murphy/ said the spokesman. ‘One moment, gentlemen/ cried St. Joseph, ns he pulled the bell-cord vig orously. ‘Waiter, drinks for the par ty/ ‘Drinks !’ shrieked the conclave in a chorus. ‘Mr. Murphy are you not mad ?' ‘Mad V echoed Joe ; not a bit of it. Name your beverages gentle¬ men/’ ‘Oh, this is terrible blacksliding/ said one. ‘Francis Murphy ordering drinks/ ‘Francis Murphy/ repeated the per¬ plexed Joe. ‘I am Joe Murphy, the comedian/ They saw it all, and rushed wildly out of the room in search of the tern' perance apostle, who was then toiling painfully from the depot on foot, “to¬ ting’’ a huge carpet-bag. Both the Murphys drew large houses that night. Betting- and Gambling. The la‘e Canon Kingsley wrote as follows to his son: My dearest boy:—There is a matter which gave me great uneasiness when you mentioned it, Vou said you had put into some lottery for the Derby, and had hedged to make safe. Now all this is bad, bad, nothing but bad. Of all habits, gambling ° is the , one T I , hate most, and , , have avoided most. Of all habits it gro ws, most on eager minds. Success and loss alike make it grow, Of all habits, however much civilized men may give way to it, it is one of the most intrinsically savage. Historically it has been the source of excitement of the lowest brutes in human form for ages past. Morally it is unchivalrous and unchris j tian 1. It gains money by the lowest and most unjust means, for it takes money out of your neighbor’s pocket without giving him anything in return. 2. It tempts yon to use what you fa.icy your superior knowledge of a horse’s merits—Or anything else—to your neighbors harm. I! you know better than your neigh¬ bor you are bound to give him your advice. Instead, you conceal your knowledge to win from his ignorance, hence come all sorts of concealments. dodges, deceits—I say the devil is the only father of it. I'm sure, moreover, that the head master would object se riously to anything like a lottery, bet¬ ting or gambling. Diving With Christ. A daily walking with Christ is the I 8<du S( ctJrity of the Christian. lie mUSt bc 8euu and idealized h y t!l * i oftaith as a present teacher and guide, ^ hiS liwia e m aod wlth Christ is some j thlD ? mUch h, S herthan carrying a con ! vclltlonal lch S lon vvh,ch is evei ' ready ' t0 cordor,n to the TVorld in its pleasures, arausements ami fashions. If you want manly independence, genuine enthusiasm of life, a sense of inward strength, positive convictions, unwea ried loyalty, delight in his service,keep Christ uppermost in your heart. The religion which the world needs most and for which the Church constantly prays, is not a religion of dead forms and superstitious customs, hut one that will shine, and speak, and act, from j the heart in which Christ is being | formed as the hope of present comfort and of future glory. - - ------ - A rocky place—The nursery. I Drunkenness. The Annapolis Gazette of a recent date sa\s; A dear lady friend has handed us the following heart-rending account of U,e evil of drunkennesa as witnessed by the Rev. Dr. Guthrie, with the t.‘quest ,0 P l,V>lish - H a PP eals 10 thc b « Ut ' r r ° ellr, S 3 ot every falher, mother, sister, ;ll ‘ * hiotiier, and should atotise c\ety n,ai1 am ' lV0,uau *° ntako an efloit to destroy the dram shops that are ‘mak¬ ing the purse poor to enrich the nose/ and destroying the peace, happiness and lives of our citizens. Let our peo¬ ple but seriously reflect upon how many casks of virtue's poison are dribbling out their base and poisonous contents in our own city, and then surely they will resolve to be henceforth a ‘Dash away/ and forever to abstain from the use ol the bane that ‘steals away the brains/ and produces want and misery, and transforms man into a beast: 'I have heard the wail of children for bread, and have seen the b ibe pull ing at breasts as dry as if the starved mother was dead. I have known a father to turn a step-daughter into the streets at night, bidding the sobbing girl, who bloomed into womanhood, to earn her bread there as others were doing. I have bent over the foul pal¬ let ot a dying lad, to hear him whisper that his father and mother, who were sitting half drunk by the fireside, had pulled the blankets off his body to sell for drink. I have seen trie children blanched like plants growing in a col¬ lar—for weeks they never breathe a mouthful of fresh air—for the want of rags to cover their nakedness; and they live in continual terror of a drunk¬ en father or mother coming homo to beat them I do not recollect ever seeing a mother in the wretched dwel¬ lings handling her infant, or hearing the little one crow or laugh. These are some of drink's doings, but nobody can know the misery I suffered amid those scenes of wretchedness, woe, want anu sin.' ---*.♦.-— Revenge in Italy. Two Englishmen, wandering in a boat in the suburbs of Venice, saw an object in the watersurrouuded by birds. They found it to be a man, yet alive, Hia arms aad ] 0g8 wcre broken and tied, and in order that lie might not aink ' a p Arge demijohn ot glass was atta he d to each shoulder, which sus Gained the head and neck above water. cou pj not speak, his tongue hung from his mouth. His eyes had been p ecko( j out by the birds. The murder i t ^^maschotFi •' *'........ .... ..hviill WB '£* * — m» AtifcA U1C& and his two brothers. had a handsome and irreproacable and a daughter of eight years. Tetal Jj, the murdered man, was employed by him and weli treated; but becom¬ ing enamored of Mine, Farm ischetti, he annoyed her to such a degree that her husband beat him and drove him from his house. Several days’ after Pannaschetti started at midnight with a load of garden prsduce for Venice His wife was soon awakened by steps in her room. Her door was locked, but Tetaldo had entered by the win¬ dow, and lie stoo I before her, knife in hand. He threatened death it sue call ed for help, hut she defended lie,self bravely. In the meantime her daugli ter, unperceived by Tetaldo, had crept under the bed, and was a witness to the scene. Mine. Pannaschetti ran roond a table, and several rimes esca ped from Tefal do's grasp. But he stabbed her, and she fell in a dying condition. Day began to dawn, and Tetaldo fled. The child then alarmed the neighbors, who, on reaching the house, found the woman dead, with thirty-two wounds upon her body.— Ou the return of Pannaschetti, him¬ self and brothers sought Tetaldo, and found him Pannaschetti plunged a pitchfork three tunes into his breast and held him pinned, while fris brothers broke IPs arms and legs with an iron bar. Parmaschetti intended (hen to bom him, but a brother proposed that he should be floated upon the Adriatic, that the birds and fishes might eat him alive. This was done. The three bro thers were condemned to ten years of imprisonment with hard labor, but a petition to the king was extensively signed in Veniee, asking for their com plcte pardon, Keep the ton - ue h ' om ,,ukindne8 * ^ ord8 are sometimes wounds; not very dee P rounds always, ami yet they ir ritatate. Speech is unkind sometimes when there is no unkindness in the heart. So much the worse that necd less wounds are infleted; so much the worse that unintentionally pain is caused. NO. S. HUMORl Sr ■ i Every country church has its stare way. I ho lorn buy is the American ho gal. An cx spurt—A dilpidated public fountain. Crash in the dry goods business— towels. The business ot rag gathering is picking up. To ask a man to pay a bill is as easi¬ ly said as dun. Did you ever see the Maid of Greece made of grease? —--^ - An editor's chair is like a back tooth —hard to fill. The sky, unlike man, is most cheer¬ ful when bluest. Song of the dry goods clerk—Swing¬ ing in delaine. Afire alarm—an;orthodox sermon on the hereafter. . ------ - A profane upstart—The man who sits down on a bent pin. Tal mage says smoking leads to drinks ing—so docs a salt codfish. A cold in the head is generally ob tained by the contract system. Whisky is about the only enemy man lias succeeded in loving. A shoemaker advertises ‘medicinal boots/ The virtue is in the heel. To remove paint from doorposts— back up against it when it is fresh. A waste of money—To put a ten dollar hat on a dime’s worth of trains. Ode to a five hundred dollar seal skin coat—-Thou ait so dear and yet so fur. The man who pays in advance ean not be trusted. Let this lie a warning. Hunger has driven many a man to crime, but more men to the lunch counter. There is no better anti-fat remedy than whisky. It will make a man lean io a short time. j The extreme coldness between Cain l the hrbt case Qt and Abel gave rise to Weighing on record. The general depression in trade seems to affect even the days, They are very short just now. If a man could live by the sweat of j brew, his living would come much eas i er in hot weather. j __ m _ Lawyers are nevermore earnest than when they work with a will—that is, if the estate is valuable. The paragrapher who was banged, sa ^ to the crowd around the gallows, ‘this is but a homp t»e show/ . Ciln an editor onto the kin*d. m ot heaveu?'asks the Elmira Gazette— Perhaps so, if he is given passes. -- A ver y humble man sometimes be comes awfully stuck up, as for instance, w hen he spiffs a bottle of mueffage over bis coat, A man was boasting that he had an elevator in his house. ‘So lie has,' | said his wife, ‘and he ke<pj it in the cupboard in a bottle/ If there was anything practical in spiritualism, Stewart could give the policeman a rap and some information concerning the disposition of his bones, ‘The Sioux are not contagious/ said an old frontiersman. ‘What do you mean?' asked a bystander. ‘I mean that they art* hard to catch/ was tire reply. ‘Jane/ said her father, ‘I thought you hated stingy people, and yot your young man —. <v ^ ! y> p a who said » he is stingy!, ‘Oh, nobody,’ replid pa, ‘yt'ly I could see he was a little close, as I passed through the room/ What to him was love or hope? What to him was joy or care? lie stepped on a plug of Irish soap the girl had left ou the topmost stair, and his feet flew out like wild, fierce things, and he struck each stair with a sound like a drum, and the girl below with the scrubbing things, laughed like a fiend. to see him come: