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v^Htallmtconsu
GRIEF FOR THE BEAD.
O heart never cease to yearn!
O brimming tears that ne'er are ilii.nl:
TOMErail. Itnmidi they depart, return
<AS though they baa not i!i■ 1!
The the only dead,
'JJie deao five,— nevermore to die:
JTI ofteu. when we mourn them tied,
They never were so nigh!
And though they lie beneath the waves, „
Or sleep within the churehyard dim,
(Ah! through how many different graves
God's children go to him!)-
Yet every grave gives up its dead
fVe it is overgrown with grass;
Then w hy should hopeless tears be shed,
Or ueed wo cry “Alas!”
Or why should Memory, veiled with gloom,
And tike a sorrowing mourner craped,
Sit weeping o'er an empty tomb.
Whoso Captives have escaped?
’Tis but a mound,. —and will be mossed
Whene'ei the summer gras, appears;
Tbt*oved, though wept, are never tus!:
tenrs^w
dead
Tty
--Hu’AMLry, .withA backward tread,
with them afar.
i'Wb we*.,-e. are but foreea-t,
we shall find them all once more;
We took behind us for the Past,
But lot ’tis all before!
AT THE BRIDGE.
’They are lute, Mabel, are they not?
JAjLt can have detained them?’
gore I can not tell. I fancied 1
BMpi>rJ3te?!|ol hoofs a moment since.
plainer now.’
in the verandah
, .Sj v seat in II n .it
ItlNSHk'' I.ainont, was a
v. itli !.n I;, i in-
Ml Inssis lie;
£l|@|SjS|L tie 1 f ’i.
gaggli i me
f ■
li' P'h lS M
’ : Ae -jjitoii ran ■ • •.•••th
i, * ‘iri riding hatiits,
hatiil !.
' with whir'll she irri-
lip pod the toe of the" dainty
hoot that peeped oat from beneath her
skirt.
At one side negligently leaning a
gainst ft pillar, his dark eyes fixed upon
Mabel's fair face, was the figure of a
young mti i,' apparently about twenty
. vears cf age®!:, f- atfives ClaiJ'oce La*
%V nt rcafembßl bis**fi ster Louise; but
1 while,oimfflro*' "aii type of pore wo
manly a hardness a
bont the month of the other that tolJ ol
a far different nature.
'Ah, here they come at last!’ cried!
Louise. 'But Amy : s alone. What can
have detained her brother Ernest?'
As she spoke, a young lady mounted
on a pretty little pony, rode at a rapid
pace up to the house; and before Clar
ence could reach her side, • site had
sprung from her saddle, and affection
ately greeted her two friends, as they
ran down the steps.
‘Ernest was unexpectedly obliged to
go to Blackdale this morning,’ she said,
iu reply-to Mabel’s eager inquiry: ‘but
will meet us at the little bridge.’
‘Gome, then, brother Glareuce, let ns
mount and away,’cried Louise gayly.
•John is bringing out the horses,’ was
Ciaience [reply. ‘Come,’ he added, as
Mabel’s steed was hi ought up.
Soon all were mounted, and then,
Mabel and Clarence in advauce, all rode
off.
‘Cousin Mabel, let us t ide on and read
the bridge first. Louise and Amy Hal—
sted are deep in some confidential con
ference, and will scarcely miss us.’
Mabel acceded, and soon Louise and
her friend were left behind. A turn in
the road quickly hid them from their
sight, and slacking his horse's speed,
Clarence said,
‘Mabel, I Lavo something to say to
you; soniothiimyghat will influence my
whole futumble. * Can you guess what
it ih?’
A look of surprise came over the fair
listener's face, ami she* said, ‘indeed,
Clarence, lean think of'nothing yon
could say to me of such great import
ance.’
‘lt is this,’ and hiswfacc flushed, and
*his voieft was low with emotion;,‘l love
you, Mabel; have loved you deeply, pas
sionately, since I first saw you.
you be my wife?’
‘Ob, Clarence, I can not! I am so sor
ry!’ Andtbemaideu covered .her face
with her hands. a.
‘Oh, Mabel, give me some .hope; do
not cast rm*off without a hope of win
ning your lover he pleaded.
keaunot! 1 l ave no right!
A strange look came into Claranca
Lament’s eyes, but in a moment it was
gone, and ho said, ‘Oh, Mabel, why do
yon thus repulse my love? Why can
you not bid me hope?’
‘Never can I be aught to you but a
friend, Clarance, and a friend I al
ways be.’
Again that strange look came over his
face, and an evil light shone in his eyes,
as he hissed through his set teeth, 'Mabel,
you have trifled with me. You have
w*n the heart of a true man, and now
you throw it from you. Beware!’
‘No, Clarance, 1 have not trifled with
yon, the mo den’s voice was clear and
steady now; lam betrothed to another.
‘1 have
Tbywords died upon his lips, for the
sharp ring of hoofs caused him to look
tip, and he saw, coming toward them at
a terrific pace, a horse—riderless, at fust
he thongllt—bat as it came nearer, lie
saw ttie form of a man half thrown from''
the saddle, yet clinging to the al
most flying steed.
Oil heavens! (be bridge—the bridge!’
uind Malt I’s voice rang out in a wild,
despairing cry. One glance and Clar
ence saw the cause of Mabel’s alarm;
■the bridge was g. no, washt.’<L»\> ay Jjy
the angry waters; and its placeu yawn
ing abyss far too wide for a horse t"
leap, and toward this the frightened
-teed was coming at fearful leaps.
On, on, came the horse, panting with
terror and exertion, till it stood upon the
very blink of the chasm; and then with
a moment’s hesitation upon the bank,
thejiJer strove to disengage himself
froiWws doomed steed; liutyt was ton
late, and with a wild cry, l lvjrled
into the abyss. "
Mute with suspense, the two riders
sat Stricken dumb with fear until the in
stant that the frightened steed hesitated
upon the I rink of the abyss; and then,
as both recognized the doomed rider,
Mabel slushed: ~
‘Oh. r.’fest, Enlist!’
One 1: ok at thrinaiden’r ag ru'zed face,
and ClartncE had read her secret, and
an evil sinister gl#w lit up his counte
nance.
’Oh, Clarance, save him, save him!
and the maiden laid her hand upon hi
ann, and looked pleadingly up into his
face.
With one spring Ciaranco had reached
the edge of the chasm, and gazed anx
iously down into the roaring waters;
and tlien lie saw the half submerged
body ot Ernest Ilalsted desperately cling
ing to a part of the bridge that remain
ed in the midst of the angry torrent.
His wicked heart gave a triumphant
bound as he thus recognized the deadly
peril of his rival; and turning to mab' l,
who stood irute with terror by the side
of her passive steed,-ho hoarsely whis
pered :
•Mabel, I will save him on one condi
tion, and that is ,’
iWhnt, what? Oh, Clarence, speak
quickly?’
‘Promise to be my wife?’
‘I can not, I can not! Do not torture
me thus. Save him, I command you?’
‘Promise, and I will.’
‘I can not!’ ,
‘Tlnuehe shall die!’ and he turned fier
cely r.wNf.
‘Oh, Clarance,,do not leave him! Save
him, save
aave hitnl“
Triumphant now, Clarance quickly
detached the bridle from his horse, and
with one look at Mabel, advanced until
he stood upon the brink of the chasm;
and then leaning far over, he flung the
reigns down to the drowning man. Ea
gerly he grasped them, and citing with
all his declining strength to the timely
succor.
‘Remember your promise!’ Criedular
ence, as he tarried for an instant toward
the maiden, and then again bent to bis
task.
Bat, suddenly, with a wild cry, lie
cast the bridle far from him, arid sprang
backward. But it was too lute; the
bank on which he stood, already loosen
ed from its base by the foaming torrent
siid forward into the seething waters,
burying beneath it the body of Clarauce
Lament.
Another shriek came from the maiden's
iips but she did not faint. Nerved by
fear, she sprang forward and gazed eag
erly down into the chasm; and there saw
her lover manfully struggling with the
waves, but still clinging to the lirillc.
When Clarence tossed the bridle from
him, it caught upon a low bush that
grew upon the bank; and toward this
the maiden turned with a cry of j iy.
i Grasping it, she exerted i ll her strength
to aid her lover, and not in vain; fur
j s-'O:) tl e strain ceased, and in another
instant Ernest Hoisted had clambered to
HERE Stertfr JT ql E HESS THE PEOPLE'3 RIGHTS MAINTAINSI, AWED BYFEAR AND UNBRIBED BY GAIN.
-•QUITMAN, GEO., JUNE 23. IS7I.
the and stood upon the bank
beforiW^^^.
M she mtirmcred; and
Uien descried her, and
wile s'mkrlTWhe cjrlff
Pale and wealt \fcith bis exertions, her
•lover In-nt over her and gently raised
her progtrate forir*JqJiis bosom. Then
as she slowly opeiitff her eyes, he,whis
pei uA Darling Mabel, to you 1 owe my
iifcJßaOok up dearest!’
A sweet smile was bis answer, and
bending his head, he pressed a Wisll up
on her pale cheek. t
‘Clurenoe, where are you? cried (he
voice of Louise at this moment; and in
another instant the two girls rode
‘Why, Mabe, what is the matter ?
Where is my' brother?' was the startled
inquiry of Louise, as with sudden alarm
she sprang from her horse and hurried
forward. ,
Soon the story was told; and with
pale grief-stained facts tliejlittlo party
procoeded homewu rd.
It was late that day ere (he body of
Clarence Lament was recovered; and
when tie was laid in the tomb, none wept
more deeply than his gentle cousin.
Three months after, there was n quiet
wedding at the handsome country seat
in Dorsetshire; anti there is no need to
tell who were tho two that were then
made one.
Never, not even to her husband, has
Mabel told the story of her promise at
the bridge; but, burying it in the past,
she remembers it only as the one fault
of her unforroiiale cousin.
TLe Fool ami tiie Highwayman.
Never heard of Edmond OTlanlon' the
Irish highway robber? Well, that's
surprising. Your English Turpins and
French Duvals couldn’t hold a candle to
our highway man. Bat for all his shrewd
ness he met his match once, and I’ll tell
you how it was :
I Redmond was a fine, strapping, gen
i tlem irily h How, and a devoted admirer
Jof the ladies —as where is the Irishman
that is not? and what is more, a friend
to the poor; asyo-i’ll admit when 1 tell
you that his demurds for cash were only
made on persons who could well afford
to meet ll cm, and that he delighted in
forcing contributions from these who
had the name of hard landlords to their
tenants. There was one of this
who Redmond never lost an opporlnijjty
of taxing §f: r that, was tee polite name
be gave to- nis own robberies. Every
qna'er-day, this gentleman, or ond ol his
servants— more Gian one,
iisei| to of si*or seven
(TiiicS*t.o collect his rents, and ns regular
as clockwork there was Redmond O’llan
lon, with some stout companions if nee
o.-oyujL to waylay the collector as bo
home. Every means was used
to elude biro, but to no purpose, lie
had spies everywhere, and contrived to
get" the exact information lie needed in
ud\unco.
So one qunrterday, when the gentle
man's servants asked him about going
for.the rents, he swore at O Hanlon, and
said lie didn’t see the us i of collecting
money to hand - over to him.
Now this gentleman bad on his estate
a boy called “Jerry the Fool,” who had
the run of the house and made fun for
the family. ITo had a great conceit for
himself, and when he heard what the
master said, ho immediately asked to he
allowed to go after the rents for once,
and declared lie would know the way t'
bring them safe home. Os coarse ho
was only laughed at; but when he rep
resented that no harm would come from
Dying, as he couldn’t do worse than a!'
who had gone before him, tho master
agreed to homnr him. Upon that, Jerry
made such preparations as lie thought
suitable, chose the worst horse in the
stable—an old back half blind and three
quarters lame—and started on his enter
prise. Nothing occurred on the way.
He collected a considerable amount of
money, carefully disposed it about his
person, and started homeward. Toward
evening, as he was quietly jogging
along on the old hack, and wes just en
tering u long lane with high l edges on
each side, a tall, fine-looking man rode
up to him on a handsome roan mare.
‘God gave you, my maul’ says the!
gentleman.
‘God save your honor?’ replied Jerry.!
‘What’s your name, rny man?’ asked ;
the
and I ain't ashamed!
of it. What’s yours?,
The gentleman took no notice of the
question. After a while ho says, ‘That’s ,
a fine animal you’re riding, 'Jerry?’
‘Faith, I’m glad your honor likes it,’:
said Jerry;‘bat it isn’t myself thift’d j
care to take a lease of his life, fiat he’d
serve my torn anyway, for it’s not in a
hurry I’m traveling—l’ve only been to
the village beyond to collect the mas- j
tei ’» rents for him.’
‘Surely he's not such a fool as to trust j
you with that job?’ ‘Arrah, why riot?’ ;
asks Jerry, in great surprise.
‘Why, don’t you know that Redmond
O’Hanlon’s on this road?’
‘Redmond O’Hanlon, is it,’ says Jerry.
‘Ugh! that tor Redmond O'Hanlon!'says
he, snapping his fingers. ‘Faix, Jerry
the fool is a match for half a dozen the
likes ' shim, any day in tho week, and
Sunday into the bargain!’
The stranger laughed, and then rode
on in silence, tiil they came to a very
lonely part in ttie road, when he drew a
brace of pistols, and to'd Jerry to hand
lover all the money lie hark- about him,
or he’d try il he had any bruins by send-
ing a couple of bullets through bis head.
‘Meala Murthor!’ roars Jcary, in a tone
of surprise and fright. 'Yon don't mean
to say your honor’s O’Hanlon?’
‘I do, indeed. So hand over, my
man, and look sharp about it.’
But, faix, it’s kilt entirely by tho mas
ter I’ll be if I go borne without the rint.’
'What’s that to mi V said O'llanlon.
"‘Anyhow,’said Jerry, ‘I must show*
"hem had a murdering tight for it.
Perhaps your honor would’nt mine firing
a shot through my old beaver. ’ O’llan
,loii did so, laughing at tho trick.
‘And now another tlirongMJie breast
of my coal, and Heaven (Tless you.’
was done. ‘Now, just one in the
skirt of it, and good luck to your hon
or.’
‘But I’ve discharged both my pistols,
and dim't wan^Lj^auible of loading
thi'ii^nuiii
like a shot
through tho skirt; it would show I
fought desperate. Are you sure your
honor hasn’t, another pistol in your pock
et that you wouldn't mind filing for a
poor hoy’s sake?’
‘Confound you 1 To be sure 1 liavn’t.
Hand over the money, or I’ll beat you
to jelly with my horsewhip.’
‘Well,’says Jerry, after a good deal
fumbling, ‘1 suppose, considering the
trouble I've had collecting-tlieso rents,
your honor won’t tho litTrc bother of
going over thr hedge after them?'
And lie threw over a suck, apparent
ly filled with coin. Half laughing, halt
angry, the highwayman—first aiming at
Jerry with, his whip, which ho avoided
by docking—dismounted, and climbed
over the hedge, ami no sooner bad he
done so than Jei ry slipped off tiie old
hack and mounted OTlanlon's horse.
‘lbid scran to you, Redmond O’Han
lon! ho bawled. Didn’t 1 tell you Jerry
the Fool was a match for a dozen of yon?
It's a sack of brass buttons you’re
gone over the hedge after, you thief of
the world!’ And touching the fine mare
with the spur, he galloped ofl singing at
tho top of his voico the old melody,
to the mischief and shake yoursellT
O’Hatilnn could not puisne him on the
hack; (fie cu'e f and had made him diw-*
charge his pistol-. There was nothing
for it but to walk a way, cursing- Wsewu
stupidity; and ever after, if any one
wanted to provoke him, they had only
to a-K him when lie had last si on Jerry
the Foil.
Tim Lost Kim; . A correspondent of.
the Boston Tnnwllur, writing fruit St.
Jolt i's, Newfoundland, says:
Ah I am on the subject of curiosities,
I may mention that I v.us shown the,
other ,hfy, by a gentleman here, a plain
gold ring, to which a curious history at
taches. A fisherman of Trinity Bay, on
opening the of a codfish one day
hist summer, found in it, to his astonish*
ment, this ring. It is rather massive,
and on the inside are engraved the
words, “God abov continent? our love.”
Judging by tbe orthography of this mot
to, one would bo inclined to conclude
that the l ing must be at least a couple
of centuries old; but then it may boa
modern engraving of an ancient line, the
spelling being left unaltered. Perhaps
some of your readers may bo able to
point to the authorship of tho motto.—
But the question is, where did the cod
fish pick it up? Was the golden circlet
placed on some fair taper finger before
tiie altar - the blushing, trembling bride,
half tears, half smile, holding up her
hand to receive the emblem of plighted
affliction, on which her fond lover lias
got inscribed the motto, “G id abov con
tinew our love?” I) and some years ol
happy wedded life follow, and then did a
terrible calamity close the scene? We
picture ourselves a storm in the wiidjAt-
lantic—a sinking ship—a husband arid
wife clasped in one another’s arms go
ing down into the “dark nnlatliomed
caves of the ocean” —pale and ghastly
they are laid on the floor of the great
deep, tin: tangled sea weed is onterlwin
ed with the long, fair hair. The deli
cate hand becomes the prey of fishes,
and the golden circlets finds a resting
place in the maw of tho all-devouring
cod. Strange destiny! But stranger
still, the ring is drawn with the fish into
! the boat of the fisherman, and is now a
cariosity in the hands ol strangers!
Who knows but were the tale I have
told widely circulated on the wings of
press it iriifgliV meet the eye of some sur
viving relative of the wearer, who could
identify it l>y the unusual motto, and to
whom it would be unspeakably precious.
I am in a position to guarantee tho
truth of lhe story. The evidence is con
clusive that it was found as I have des
ciibed; and the strong possibility is that
ft came from tho wreck of some unfortu
nate vessel that perished near these
shores, or perhaps far oat in the [Atlan
tic.
A blushing damsel called at one of the
agencies the other day to buy a sewing
machine, ‘Do yon want a fellow?’ in
quired the modest clerk in attendance,
the ingenious maid replied with some
asperity.—‘No sir! 1 have one.’
A Kansas City husband gave liis
wife S4OO to buy Christmas presents for
herself. She selected a young clerk and
two railroid tickets.
Why is an old maid tike a dried up
lemon? Because she ought to bate been
squeezed, but wasn’t.
Mwvrmfn.
Gotesborg, May 8, 1871. >
J/rwsrs. Robinson if- Branch, Attorneys at
Law,Greensboro, Ga;
Genti.kmkn : Yon are well uwaro ot
my journey to Sweden. 1 have been
here four weeks, and have traveled a
[good deal through the country, and in
fut'med th'e people of my intended busi
ness. I can say that lam able fokfill
any amount of orders with people outlie
or single. 1 tilnk
plica!ions from twemv
'people who wish to
comeWßfpSiir conn* ton tho terms I
have proposed. Sweden is
growing worse jw for tho work
ing classes. They wish to leave here
by the million, if they only had the
means. Why should not tho people,in
Georgia, who need laborers and ho'#! 6 *
servants, patronjg— the and get people
of the proper kind into their dour coun
try? lam now well acquainted with
the business. All the officers on the
lino aro very anxious that 1 should suc
ceed, and will do all they can in my fa
vor. 1 have promised a great many of
tny friends to return next lull and help
them over to Georgia, which I hope I
shall be able to do. I feel now
a greater interest than ever in my coun
try people, and shall do everything in
my power to bring as many as possible
away from here. I know the country
where they can make an honorable liv
ing by work—hero they cannot.
lam badly disappointed this trip. I
had a promise of ab ut one hundred and
fitly orders, but only received thirteen.
After I come to Georgia, I shall re
turn to Sweden about the Ist of Sep
tember, provided I can get a number of
orders, and will bo back about
of December. I leave hero for XloW
York on the lOtii of May, hoping To be
at Monticello, Ga., about the 15th of
June. 1 have a few days here yet, and
will take some more trips iu the country,
to find, ifpussiSle, some who can pay
their own passage and go with Tue.
Yours, very truly,
J. Foss.
How to Get a Dinner.
A party who traveled about extensive-
Jy was "-really perplexed to Understand
how it was that oli.ei persons were wai
t and upon, promptly and well drived at
the hotels, while lie was most entirely
ignored, and could scarcely obtain a
square meal, compl tin and to swear at
the waiters as he might At hist his
eyes were opened to the dodge of fooling
tho waiter’s liberality, and being of an
ingt nious turn of mind,Ye determined
Bjniprovc on the pi
*l7to next hotel ho dined at, he took his
seat pompously at the ttable, and pulled
out a well fi'-led pocket .book, extracted
therefrem a toil dollar bill, which ho laid
on the white cloth beside his plate, and
placed his goblet upon it.
In an instant, almost, he was stir*!
rounded by waiters, who seemed to vie'
with each other in attentions. Every
wish was anticipated, and all the deli
cacies of the kitchen and *J)antry were
set before him iiFD mpting array.
Having fared as sumptuously as a
prince (to the envy of the other guests,)
iio took up the greenback and beckoned
to the nearest waiter, when ho was bo
seiged by a halfd>zm. Holding tho bill
in one hand, he pointed to it with the
other, and inquired of tho crowd:
‘ ‘Du you see that bill?'
‘Oil yes, sir!’ they all exclaimed in a
chorus.
‘Then take a good look at it,’ he re
plied,'for yon will never see it again.’
Saying which ho pocketed the money
and departed, leaving the waiters a
ghast.
Bea Max. —Foolish spending is the
father ol poverty. Do not bo .ashamed
of hard work. Work for ttie best sala
ries or wages you can get, but work for
half price rather than bo idle. Bo your
own master, and do not let society of :
fashion swallow up your individuality—
hat, coat and boots. Di not out up or
wear out all that you earn. Compel
your selfish body to spare something far
profits saved. B> stingy to your own
appetite, but, merciful to necessities.
Help others, and ask no help for your
self. See that y proud. Let your
pride boos the right kind, Bu too
proud to be lazy; too proud to givo up
without conquering every difficulty; too
proud to wear a coat you cannot affu'd
to buy; too proud to bo in company that
I you cannot keep Rp with in expenses;
! too proud to lie, or steal, or cheat; too
! proud to be stingy.
A Sure cure for lings of all kinds upon
plants and vegetables, is to make a
thin white-wash—say a pint ol slack
lime to a pailful of water —and sprinkle
it through a watering can over the
vines. It will, without fail, kill potato
bugs, cut worms, or anything of that
kind,
Blessed are they to whom people go j
when they are in distress! Blessed art j
they around whom little children flock l|
Blessed aro they that are cared fur by
men when they are in extremities and;
emergencies! Blessed aro they upon i
whom grateful eyes look, saying, “Come ;
again: I am better for your coming.”
A young bachelor in Jersey City was
urged to many, but he. replied: ‘1 don’t
roc it. My father was a single man,
and he always gal along well enough.';
Annum,
N*o. 25
Iv a iv lu x Allnck ou n Metro
Clnircli. . ' ttlKl.
Tho Americas (On.) ,Kepiibfifflwha*
the following : A drunken negro sluj|u
bled into n Colored prdJßjr, mccting'.gSj
few nights since, while
tion was kneeling, nnd in hunting alwJB
for a seat fell heavily on a 'brother ,-eJljw
suddenly starting up, yelled out “{flr
KlfxP'nnd in one bound went through
tho window. On an instant the congrc-
Ration was in the greatest confusion.
The woni«u shouted, screamed and pray
ed - f the ok a yelled and fought, striking
anything,and anybody near them. Tho
lights were put out through the melee,
arid the house was emptied as speedily
*l‘ < H|iiffi'i£uted darkies could disen -
tangle themselves and gc.b.put, except
tho drunken wretch who Tad been tram*
pled upon and knocked about until tie
was nearly sense'ess. As soon as it
became quiet lie got up and made a
dash for the door and was soon hurrying
homeward. On tho way ho mot some
gentlemen, to whom ho said: “Tho
damn Ku Kluxers come down to church
jess now, and kilt about twenty-five, and
whipped tho winrmen and diiv us all
out. They skint me all over with great
big knives, and my bones ain't got a
bit of meat on 'em. Uis poor dcflictcd
chile is a dead nigger," and ho went
staggering homeward.
Best Mnile of Advertising.
The best and cheapest mode of ad Vet's
Using in the world is that in the news--
papers. Every successful advertiser
will say this. Seed strewn there, if the
seed is good for anything always brings
up a crop of some value, most
netted fold* Placarding the dead*
.and showering tho handbills
among the people are auxiliaries in ad-,
vert siug; but it is doubtful whether, as
a rule, they-murc than pay the expense’,
while there is no doubt they are a nui«
sauce. The blankest of dead walls is
only disfigured by posters, provoking,
in the welT-eeginftU'd mind, a sense of
aversion to the man who advertises, an tf*
tiie articles upon - excellence ho
expiates; while as to handballs, nothing
so prejudices n citizen against going to
sen any show or buyingmny, goods, art
the ugly slips of paper thrust at him
from all quarters, eloquently recommend
ing him to do those tilings.
s\iTF.crixo IxcinF.XT.—Little Mamie,
just three years old, was dying. lUta
last, but one o"f six lovely little lambs,
who had Iven gatmfered into the bosom
of the Good Shepherd, safe, forever safe,
from a touch of sorrow or a throb of
pain. Just before, her grandfather* a
noble minister, had 'passed over the riv
er,' through the eternal gate, and eutef
ed into rest,
'You will soon see Grandpa, darling/
said the fond watcher. O r ou aro going
(o heaven.*
‘Yes, I know/ was the quick repiy.
‘I am too little to open the dour, f
can’t reach it; hut Grandpa wiil opcu
the door for mel’
Ah! the good Lord lias already opened
tho door for his own little angel, and
permitted her to catch a glimpse of tho
sweet saintly face she had loved so Well,
and which awaited to welcome her homo
forever,
Makixo Proci.r ITaitv, —Some inert
move through life as a band of nfiUSic)
moves down tho street, flinging out
pleasure on every side through the nit*
to every one, far and near, that can iis-*
ten; some men fill the air with the'f
strength and sweetness as orchards in
October days fill the air with ripe fruit.
Some women e'ing to their own houses
like the honeysuckle over the door, yet
like it, fill the region with the Subtle
fragrance of their goodness. lloW
great a bounty and blessing is it so to
hold the royal gifts of the soul that they
shall bo music to some and fragrance to
i others, and life to all ! It would bo no
unworthy thing to live for, to make tho
l power which wo have within us tho
breath of other men’s joy' to fill the at-*
mosphem which they must stand ind
j with a brightness which they caunott
! croate for themselves.
‘This world is all a fleeting show/ said
a priest, to a culprit on tie gallows.—-
‘Yes,’ waivthe prompt reply, ‘but if yoo
have no objection, I’d like, to see th«
show a little longer.’
Some of the papers are calling the at-*
tention of the woman-suffrage women to
this, which a Delaware man writes i
T sliw a ben Sunday, that is a gay old
chicken—half bantam, She used to /ay
eggs and batch them during the first
five years of her life. She then ceased
to lay—chang' and her manner and looks
to those of a rooster, and now crows for
and y and all day, lights the other roo»v
tcis, and in ites with the h ns.
It is estimated that there are 255,000
tin-' bhiug machines in the United Ot. tja
..wi.hout ecu ting the “school mar mu. *