Newspaper Page Text
OL. I.
i
SANDERS V.ILLE,; GEORGIA,.JUNE 6, 1873.
C3 'TRSI?aF J
J. NT. G. MEDLOCK. JETHRO ARLINE. R. L. RODGERS.
Sy JScilloek, Arline & Rodgers.
G:
The Reb,u.d is published ia Sandersville,
_-a. every Friday morning. Subscription
nrice TWO DOLLARS per annum.
‘ Advertisements inserted at the usual rates.
No charge for publishing marriages or
deaths. ■
POETRY.
• SSatrry thy borrow.
Bnry thy .sorrow, the world has its share;
Bury it deeply, hide it v/ith care.
Think of calmly when curtained by night;
'Tell it to -Jesus and all will be right.
"Tell it to Jesus, He knoweth thy grief;
Tell it to Jesus, He'll send thee relief.
■Gather tjre sunlight aglow cn thy - way—
Gafch-ftt the in con-k eaius, each &oft Siler ray.
Hearts grown a-weary with heavier woe,
Droop into darkness,—go comfort them—go!
Bury thy sorrow, let others be blest,
Givethan the sunshine, tell Jesus the rest.
■SELECT MISCELLANY,
THE SNUFF-COLORED SUIT.
BY L. E. TABES.
I scarcely know how it happened,
but a timber must have fallen and
struck m3 upon the head. The first
thing that I realized was that I was
straight and still upon something
hard, and when I tried to move my
self and speak. I found it impossible
to do so. I concluded that I must-
be in some very tight dark place, fo:r
I could net see; in faet I soon learn
ed that, though perfectly conscious,
I ©quid do nothing but hear. A door
opened and footsteps and voices ap
proached : I felt a cloth, taken from
my face, and a voice—which I recog
nized as that of Mr. J ones, the fath
er of my wife that was to be.—said:
“He hasn’t changed much,” and
his companion, whose voice I knew
to be that of the village undertaker,
Hopkins'by name, said lightly:
- “Better looking dead than aliye.
How dees 'Jerusha feel about it?
take on much ?”
“O no, she had her eye on anoth
er fellow any how, and a better match
too, excepting the money part.
Though I had nothing against Hen,
only he didn’t know much, and was
about tkehomelies' man lever knew.
Such a mouth; why it really seemed
as though he was going to swallow
knife, fork, plate and all, when he
opened it at dinner.”
“Well,” said the cheerful voice of
Hopkins, “he’ll never open his mouth
again, that’s certain a-nd then he
proceeded to measure me for my
coffin, for it seemed that I was dead,
or they thought I was, which was all
the same to the greedy pocket of the
undertaker. I had heard of under
takers who always whistled joyfully
when they got a measure but I never
believed it before. But that man
actually whistled a subdued dancing
tune while he measured me, and it
seemed to mo that three or four icicles
were rolling down my back, to tbe
music of bis whistle.
His duty done, they covered my
face again and left me to my own re
flections, which were not particularly
comforting, although I had often
heard it remarked, that meditation
was good for the soul, and this was
the best chance I bad ever had of
trying it.
An hour must have passed when
the door again opened, and two
more persons came whispering along
to where I lay, and the voice of my
promised wife fell upon my ear :
“I dread to look at him, Bob; he
was so mortal homely, alive, he must
be frightful, dead.” ,
I ground my teeth in imagination,
as I remembered how often she had
gone into raptures, or pretended to,
over my noble brow, and expressive
mouth; and how she had often de
clared that if I were taken from her,
she would surely pine away and die.
One of them raised the cloth,
and I knew they were looking at me.
Bob was her second cousin, and I
knew he was that “other fellow,”
whom her father had mentioned.
“Seems to me you don’t feel very
bad about his dying, ‘Rusha:” re
marked Bob, meditatively.
“Well, to tell the truth, said my
dear betrothed, “I don’t care very
much about it If he had lived I
should -have married him, because
he was rich, and father wanted me
to; but I was getting about sick of
my bargain, for I knew I should al-
vavs be ashamed of him, he looked
like a baboon.”
“But you loved him, rtmaikcd
“No I tiiun t! My affections were
wasted long ago upon one who never
returned my love;” and my fast fad
ing idol sighed heavily.
limy it:id covered my face by this
time, and were, standing a few steps
from where 1 lay.
“About how long ago, ‘Rusha!”
asked Bob.
“A year, or such a matter,” with
another deep sigh, which ended in a
fit of sneezing.
“About the time I went away,”
interrogated the cautious Bo: >, eouc!.-
U en, yes, somewhere » near, ab
sented my dear affianced.
“N ow Jerusha, you don’t mean to ! are not dead, Benny dear. My
insinuate that 1 ” ; heart seemed all withered and broken
“A don’t mean to insinuate any- j to see you lying there so cold and
Thing, Bob Smithand the angelic ! white. I wept bitterly above your
sweetness of her voice was some- 1 paleface, my beloved.”
what sharpened. j “Yes,” “I replied, heard you and
“Now see here, ‘Rusha, I’ve loved ! Bob taking on terribly. It was a
you ever since you were knee high I lucky die for me.”
to a gopher, but I thought -when I j “Could you hear?” she gasped,
canae home, that you was sweet on ! “I rather think I could—some,” I
that other chap ; but I swan, I be- j replied.
lieve you liked me best all the time.” ! She looked toward the door but it
“O Bob J” said my was-to-be, in a ] was crowded full, so she made a dive
gushing soft way. ^ ! for the open window and went through
“Mine own, Jerusha,” remarked it like a deer. She shut herself up
Bob.
Tlien I heard a subdued rush, ac
companied by violent lip explosions.
I tried to kick, or grate my teeth,
in the smoke-house, and would not
come out untilafter I had left the
house.
Bob would not fulfill bis promise of
or do something to relieve my out- ! marriage with his cousin because
raged feelings, but not a kick nor a she tried to make up with me
grate could I raise. It was an awful j again; so she is living] a life of single
fire to be in, but there was nothing
to do but to stand it or rather to lay
it, so I laid still and let ’em kiss un
til they got tired of it, and tlien they
went out, and I was again left to my
own pleasant reflections.
Night came, and so did a lot of
young fellows with their girls, to sit
up with me; and they had a jolly
time of it, although it was against
my principles to enjoy it, on so sol
emn an occasion.
It seemed an ago until morning,
but it came at last, and they went
away. I beard them say that I was
to be buried that day at two o’clock,
and I was beginning to feel decidedly
snaky, wben Jerusha and her moth
er came into the room and began ar
ranging it for the funeral.
“ ’Rusha,” said her mother, “here
is that snuff colored suit of poor
Ben’s; of course lie will never have
an} - more use for clothes, so just put
them away among your carpet rags,
they’ll make a splendid swipe.” systematic moral culture that child-
Now that particular suit of clothes i ren receive, is that which is gi ven by
was just the neatest one I ever owned, | the Sunday School. The Sunday
armholes, collars, wristbands, but- | School ought to be, and is capable
tons,<ill just the thing, and my blood j becoming the great moral conser-
boiled to hear them talk so coolv of j xator of the land.
blessedness.
While I am writing, my wife is
cutting up my snuff-colored clothes
to make a stripe in a new carpet for
our front-room.
The Work.—“Educate men with
out religion,” said the Dube of Well
ington, “and you make them clever
devils.” This is perhaps a more forc
ible than elegant expression, yet it
contains an important truth. Edu
cation, without a true moral balance,
only enables men to excel in forms
of knavery which the ignorant would
never attempt. But we must have
men with intellectual culture. The
question is how to prevent that in
telligence from being devoted to base
purposes, There is but one answer
heart culture. The moral training
of the Christian home can give this,
and it may be supplemented by the
church school; but it is a sad truth,
that in hundreds of cases, the only
using them for stripe in a rag carpet.
They kept on talking as they swept,
dusted, and cleaned up the room.
“Bob says he will take the Mar
tin farm to work this year,” said j
Jerusha cheerfully, “and as so m as
Last Week’s Cotton Figures.—
The cotton receipts of the seven days
! ending last Friday night, 23d, as re-
1 ported by the New York Chronicle,
were 31,014 bales against 41',031 bales
. . ... , , last week, 43,770 bales the previous
we are married ve shall go to keep- j wee ]- ) and 48,046 three weeks since,
rug house in that little cottage close making the total receipts since, the
to the road. Now 1 must get my j first of September, 1S72, 3,378*514
carpet done just as soon as possible, ! brlcs for -w> same period'of 1871-72, !
mi- I want it in that nice little trout ! showing an increase since September
1,1872, of 737,395 bales. The receipts
at the interior ports for the same
time were 6,480 bales against 2655
for the corresponding week of last
year. The Chronicle’s table of cot-
make out rags enough I guess. His
folks live so far away they
will never inquire about his clothes.
Now if it wasn’t for the looks of it,
we could ask old mother Smith about
coloring yellow; she’s sure to be here
to-day.’ I was getting very mad now,
indeed, I felt that the crisis was near,
and that I should either die or ex
plode, if they did not let my snnff-.
colored suit alone. Jerusha picked
them up ;—I knew it, for I heard the
buckles and buttons jingle—and
made for the door. I tried to shake
my fist and yell at her, but all in
vain. I laid there, outwardly as
quiet-, as a lamb, inwardly boiling
with wrath. It was too much; the
deepest trance could not have held
out against the loss of that suit.
With a powerful effort I sprang up
and screamed. Jerusha dropped my
clothes and her mother the duster,
and both fled from the room and
house, never stopping until they
reached Dr. Brown’s across the
sttreet. With difficulty I managed
to get my clothes. I had just got
them fairly on, when Mrs. Jones and
her daughter, followed by a numer
ous company of men, women and
children, came cautiously peering in
to the room. I sat on my board and
looked at them. Sueb a scared, com
ical looking crowd was enough to
amuse an owl. so I laughed. I know
it was unbecoming, but I couldn’t
have helped it if they had chucked
me into my coffin—which the under
taker was just then carrying by the
window—and buried me the next
minute, I laughed until I jarred the
chair out from under one end of 1113’
board, and down I went with a crash.
Then the doctor ventured into the
room, saying rather dubiously:
“So you are not dead after all,
Ben?”'
“Well, no, not exactly,” I replied;
“sorroy to disappoint my friends
about the funeral, however.”
“Yes,” lie said absently, “bad,
rather—that is—ahem!”
“Fooled out of that snuff-colored
Gripi !’ 1 thought as I looked at
Jerusha. •
“Go and speak to him;” said her
father in a stage-whisper. “He’s got
the stamps and you had better marry
him after all.”
They began to gather around me
and congratulate me on my escape.
1 noticed that they cried a great deal
more now than they did when I was
dead.
Jerusha came and hung around
my neck, sniveling desperately. I
ton in sight shows 2,520,950 against
2,434,460 last year, being an increase
of 92,290.
The weather and crop reports
were favorable. The weather was
warm, sultry, and generally wet.
Clear and pleasant the latter part of
the week. Mercury at Memphis aver
aged 73, Savannah 73, Macon 78,
Mobile 76, Montgomery 84. The New
York market during the week was
quiet, with an improvement in de
mand and a steadier feeling.
Anecdotes of John Bunyan.—To
pass away the gloomy hours in pris
on, Bunyan took a rail out of his
stool belonging to his cell, and with
his knite fashioned it into a flute.
The keeper hearing music, followed
the sound to Bunyan’s c6ll, but while
he was unlocking the door the ingen
ious prisoner placed the rail in the
stool, so that the searchers were un
able to solve the mystery; nor during
the remainder of Bunyan’s residence
in the jail did they ever discover how
the music was produced.
From all old accounts of Bedford
there is an equally good anecdote, a
man came to Bunyan in jail, one day
with what he professed to be a mess
age from the Lord. “After search
ing for thee, said he, in “half the
jails in England, I am glad to have
found thee at last.” “If the Lord
sent thee,” said Bunyan, sarcasti
cally, “you would not have needed to
take so much trouble to find me out
for be knows I have been in Bedford
jail these seven years past.
All do not know r that lemons sprink
led with loaf sugar almost complete
ly allay feverish thirst.—They are in
valuable in the sick room. Invalids
affected with feverishness can safely
consume two or three lemons a day.
A lemon or two thus taken at tea
time is recommended as an entire
substitute for the ordinary supper of
summer, and will often induce a com
fortable sleep through the night, and
give a good appetite for breakfast.
»-»<>♦<
The local editor of a Natchez pa
per fell asleep while crossing the river
in a ferry-boat, the other day, and
j when he awoke he owed the com-
| pany §13 70 at ten cents a trip.
Sawdust pills, says an old physi
cian, will effectually cure many of
-■ . * • , - t [ the diseases of which mankind is af-
«X 6 , h ? r U «icted, if every patient would mate
told her to wait next time until Id
was safely buried before she set her |
’ >ld clothes.
his own sawdust.
on my
l am sogki
Inquisitive people are the funnels
said sweet-j of conversation; they do not take
iy, without appearing to notice wnat: any —mg ior their own use; butuiere-
I said about the clothes—“that you 1 ly tg pass into another. '
Divorced*
“He’ll go to the dogs now.”
“Of course he will.”,
“By all means. Only see how he
acted w’hen his wife lived with him!
Now that she has left him,all restraint
is remoted, he’ll go the rest of -the
downward way in ho time.”
“I’ll give him just one year to be
buried.” *
“Pshaw! Half that time will finish
him.” .
“Well, I pity him, too, but I pity
her more. He brought the misery
on both.”
Such was the talk of a half a doz
en villagers, who stood in front of
one of the principal one sum- 1
mer evening, while the subject of
their remarks went staggering along
on the opposite side.
It was evident that he was trying
to walk straight, but such endeavors
always seem to make a drunken man
walk more crooked. However, it
proved he was not lost to all sense of
shame, and still retained an aversion
to being ridiculed and despised.
But Harry Rogers bad carried on
at a fearful rate for a year or two
past. He had just one vice—drink;
but that was enough. He had mar
ried a worthy farmer’s daughter, Net
tie Ray, only a few years previous,
but such had been his conduct for
more than a year past that she had
been obliged to cut him loose to pur
sue his profligate course alone, and
a legal separation had just ’been ef
fected.
Harry’s home was on a little farm,
a mile from town. He owned it, but
then it was heavily mortgaged, and
in another year fereclosure was cer
tain. It was not-likely his creditors
would spare him when he made no
effort to meet his obligations.
A week passed after that summer
evening on which all had agreed in
predicting his early’ ruin—two weeks
—a month or two. W hat mystery is
here? To the utter bewilderment of
the prophesying sages, Harry dis
continued visiting the taverns, and
was rarely seen in the village. When
he did come to the store he speedily
transacted his business and then
went home—sober.
Wonders never cease wlien they
get a start. He was next reported j seemed impossible for me to over
as actually at work on his farm. Had j come. You were all a wife could be.
but one man told this in the village | W’hen you left me I thought I should
he would have been marked as lack- i become worse than ever. Only a
ing veracity; but as several ladies I day or two after you left me I was in
vouched for the fact, it was worth}’
of ci’edence.
The little farm began to look
healthier as the summer wore on.
The fences straightened up, the
weeds disappeared; the animals look
ed fatter and happier, and the little
cottage looked neater.
Time wore on, and the great
change was more remarkable every
day. Harry’s charitable creditors
called and told him he might have
his own time to pay off the mortgage.
The fall came; and the farm yield
ed an abundance of crops, and Har-
ry found himself beginning to drift
along with the tide of prosperity.
And Nettie had begun to, live her
young girlhood over again, as it were
under her father’s roof; but some
how it was not like the happy, joy
ous girlhood of memory’. It was
sober and quitet now, and she fell in
to the train of musing; and every
now and then there passed through
her mind a certain thought—she was
neither maid nor wife.
She avoided the vicinity of her
late home, nor had she seen Harry
since the separation; but she had
heard of him occasionally—knew
that he was a changed man. Still
this knowledge brought but a melan
choly satisfaction. The reform had
come too late. There was a wide
gulf between them now.
But one evening in the golden Oc
tober Nettie felt herself obliged to
pass Harry’s farm. It lay between
her father’s house and the village.
On the evening in question, however,
she had been detained in the village
until it w’as nearly’ dark, and she
determined to hazard the nearest
road home. It would be fully dark
when she would pass his house, and
the chances were that he would not
see her. She wouldn’t have him see
her for the world.
When she arrived opposite the
house she perceived a light in the
sitting room. - Her first impulse was
to hurry by; but some powerful im
pulse prompted her to stop. She
did so, and stood timidly at the fur
ther side of the road, gazing long
ingly at the house that had oncabeen
the "home to her—first of happiness,
then of misery. By-and-bv she felt
an irresistible longing to look at the
interior once more. He was evidently
within, and there wa« no danger that
he would see her. So she walked
hurriedly across the road, opened
the gate and softly’ stepped into the
lawn. Another minute and she- was
at the window, looking in. What
singular behavior. But she could
not help it.
The little room was as neat as
when she herself had watohed over
on the table. It was there that Har
ry was sitting. How her heart bound
ed as she caught sight of him. He
held in his hand a book from his scan
ty library.
She recognized it at once; but he
was not readingnow. Was he asleep
—or was he buried in .a sad reverie?
Nettie thought the latter was the
case, and her heart was touched.
“I wish I had borne with him,”
she said. But a moment later^ her
heart was touched, when she saw a
tear roll down his cheek and drop up
on the book. The lonely man was
not asleep—he was crying.
She could not help it. All the wo
man in her heart was aroused, and
she was at the door in a moment. No
ceremony—she burst into the sitting
room, and was at his side.
“Oh, Harry!”
Her voice quivered with emotion.
“Why’Nettie!” he exclaimed, try
ing to hide his tears—men are asham
ed of them—“is it you?”
“Yes, Harry, I was passing—I
looked in—I saw you sitting here so
lonely, and couldn’t help coming in.
I thought of the time we were happy
here, and .”
Then her womanly tears could be
repressed no longer. There was no
use of trying to hide them. Besides,
her voice broke down, and she could
say no more just tlien. He rose and
took both her hands from her face, /
and held them in his own. “I thought
y r ou had blotted me out from your
memory’.”
“No, no, Harry,” she sobbed, “I
could not do that. I could net help f
leaving you; but I left you-loving (■
you more than ever. Oh, I. hav^
been unhappy’.” jw ' ■/ tr
“Nettie, you have heard that I
“Yes, I have heard that you have
changed—that you do not drink any
more—that again you are manly and
industrious as you used to be; but
how lonely you must be here!” and
the tears gushed forth anew as her
heart felt what her lips spoke.
- “Yes. I am lonely, Nettie—more
than you may think; but I have de
served this punishment for the way
I acted. I had no discouragements
—I had nothing to make me do so.
It was only a passion for drink that
town drunk, and I heard some vil
lage people- -they thought I could
not hear them across the street-pass
ing all sorts of remarks about me,
say’ing I was a doomed man, and that
destruction was near. Although in
toxicated, it startled me, and for the
first time I felt the full force of our
separation, and realized that destruc
tion stared me in the face. I had a
bottle of whisky in my pocket at the
time; when out of town I smashed it.
and washed my face in a stream by
the roadside, and resolved never to
touch liquor again.
It was hard to keep my resolve
for the first week or two, but I stood
it, and soon my taste for drink dis
appeared. I care nothing for it now,
and would not touch it if it ran in
streams. Now, Nettie, If you love
me as ever, and God knows I love
you the same—let us get married ov
er again, and the bitter experience of
the last few years will only enhance
bur happiness. Nettie, dear, what
do you say?”
She could not answer; she was
crying as if her heart would break,
and her head was pillowed upon his
breast. It was a more eloquent ‘yes’
than the tongue could speak.
The moon was rising as he walked
home with Nettie to her father’s.
So Harry Rogers and Nettie Ray
were married again, and there is no
divorce that can part them now.
Discontented Minnie. -
“Only mutton for dinner! • Wh}
can’t we have dinners like those
they have at Dr. Hanson’s ? Kate
says they have turkey or chicken
every day, and deserts, toe; but we
have such common things;” am
Minnie Ellis, with a frown upoi
her pretty face, sat down to the ta
ble.
, “Yes, mother, I wonder at you,’
broke in saucy Tom. “A roast o
mutton, done brown like this, is al
well enough for such common-place
people as you and' me,” at the same
time helping himself to a slice ; “but
that such a fine young lady as Missj
Minnie Ellis should be obliged to
NO. 49
to meet the city lady, and was quite
subdued when introduced; but she -
had such a sunny face and winning
manner when she spoke to him, fliat
he soon found himself phatting quite
sociably with her.
“I never tested such milk in my'
life,” said Lucy, as she sat at the-tes
table,, and passed her tumbler foray
second ^hpply.
“Not any,” said she r-ff Minnie
passed the fruit cake. ‘T will- tal^e a
piece of ginger-bread, Torn, if you
please. I have heard father often'
speak of your famons ginger-bread, .
auntie, but this is the first* tiffie-' I;
have had a chance to taste it.”
Tonfifi respect rose at once, and 1
Good for you !” was on the tip of’
S OI
on-
my dear sister, to get you the left ly said„ with a twinkle of his gray
humming bird? or, how
you relish a few drops of
leg of
would
morning dew, in case I should make!
an extra effort, and rise early enough
to get them ?”
Mrs. Ellis smiled, but Minnie said,
tartly, “Do stop your nonsense, Tom?
you have an. idea yon are smart;
but let me tell you, that you seldom
open your mouth to speak, but that
you say something silly. Kate Han
son says, for her part, she can
endure young boys, they’re so con
ceited.”
“That’s a cooler,” said Tom;
makes me feel like an oyster witl
his trap door down. I guess, in
stead of letting out, I had bettq
let**?’ and suiting the action to th
word, he began to eat his dinne:
with a good will. _ .
f& Miss Hanson,
left the am
“My. n __
.said he, as he
whistling— ■ •*': - j
“itfelly was a lady.” '
he went out io hava a game of ball,
■MinnieInewTiermpther was not cangefrrich by sitting around stores
altogether pleased with what she anc ^ saloons. Never fool in busi-
bad said, and she continued:
eyes, “Why, Min, we did not know
that city ladies drank milk and ate
gingerbread, did we?”
But Minnie was locking, up at
tbe clock, and professed nob tohear.
Companionship with her cousin
wrought a change in Minnie. She
became less complaining and exact
ing, and more interested in home
duties. She scolded Tom less, and
received from him mere brotherly
love and less teasing.:
And, at the end of four weeks,
when Lucy returned home, the scales
had fallen so completely from her
eyes that, to use Tom’s words—“she
had given up altogether wearingKate
Hanson’s spectacles.”
“Truly,” said mother Ellis, as she
thought it over. “Example is better
than precept.”— Young Folks' News.
How to get Along.—Do not stop
* tell stories in business hours. If
u have a place of. business, be
found there when wanted. No man.
No Crawl ins
In the course of a sermon deliv
ered by Mr. Beecher the other day,
he referred to the subject of hum
bling one’s self before God. “I be
seech you,” said he, “to avoid that
kind of crawling, that prostration
that takes the manhood out of a man.
I don’t think that God wants to have
any man crawl before him like a
worm. I don’t think He is any
more pleased to see that than you
would be to see your children act so.
I have a litte dog at the farm that
when I come home is so, exceeding
ly glad that he lies down and squirms
and rolls over on his back, so that I
want to kick him. That same dog, ^
although he is so affectionate, will I
steal chickens. Now, a dog don’t i
know any better, but a man does, and j
it seems to me as if men seem to
think that if they humble themselves !
before God and say all manner of j three, at least.
‘You
know, mother, I don’t care so much
for myself, but cousin Lucy is com
ing soon, and you have often told
me how rich uncle is, and in what
style they live, and I am afraid she
will not enjoy herself when she finds
everything so different here.”
“She comes to the country for a
change,” replied Mrs. Ellis; and if
she proves as sensible as she seem
ed last winter, I have no fears but
that we can entertain her.”
“I do wish,” said Minnie, again,
after a pause, “you had bought me
a bonnet instead of a hat for best.
Kate Hanson has one. She says
hats look childish. Didn’t' you no
tice her, mother, last Sunday, as we
came out of Church ? She had on
a blue silk dress and a white bon
net, and looked lovely; and she has
so many things embroidored. That
lame Miss Black spends most of her
time in working for her.”
“Yes, I saw her in her fine clothes,
and I could but think how much
more suitably my daughter was
dressed, but Minnie,” she added
more gravely, “if intimacy with Kate
Hanson is going to make you dis
contented and unhappy, I must pre
vent your going with her. Why
can not you imitate your brother.
He takes hfe as it is, and is always
contented. There 1 are very , many
people who go through life ahd see
flaws in everything. Instead of look
ing for the silver lining of the cloud,
they see but the dark cloud itself,
and succeed in making themselves,
as well as those about them, misera
ble. It is both sinful and ungrate
ful to your Heavenly Father, to re
pine when his good gifts are_ so un
ceasingly showered upon you. Think
of tho many who are deprived of the
comforts you enjoy.”
Minnie was not naturally a disa
greeable girl, but she- had lately
been thrown with a vain young
friend, the spoiled child of a silly
mother, whose one thought was
wealth and display, and who judged
others by the same rule.
The New York train brought cous
in Lucy to Mrs. Ellis’ at the ap
pointed time. The gray straw hat,
trimmed with pink rosebuds, and
the gray suit, though neat and pret
ty, were not so grand as Minnie had
counted on; but she received her
cousin cordially, and took her up to
her own cosy bedroom, w’hich they
were to share.
“You can hang your dresses in this
wardrobe,” said Minnie.
“Tank you; I believe I will unpack
them now, for I folded them myself
and they may be creased. Mother
showed me how, for she wants me to
be able to do such things without de
pending on others.
“Only one silk dress,” was Minnie’s
silent comment, when the dresses
were hung up.
I thought she would have two or
ness matters. Have order, system,
regularity and promptness. Do not
meddle with business you know noth
ing of. Never buy an article you do
not need, simply because it is cheap,
and the man who sells it will take it
out in trade. Trade is money. Strive
to avoid hard words and personali
ties. Db not kick every stone in the
path. More miles can be made in .
the day by going steadily on than by
stopping.—Pay as you go. A man
of honor respects his word as his
bond. Aid, but never beg. Help ■
others when you can, but never give
what you can’t afford to, simply be
cause it is fashionable. Learn to -
say “no.” No necessity of snapping
it out dog fashion, but say it firmly
and respectfully. Have but few’ con
fidents ; the fewer the better. Use.
your own brains rather than those
of othei's. Learn to think and act
for yourself. Be vigilant. Keep
ahead arther than behind the times.
Readers cut this out and if there be
folly in the argument let us know.—
Ex.
crouching things, that will fit them
for the work. There is no manli
ness in this.”
Never put mucl* confidence in
such as put no confidence in others.
A man prone to suspect evil is most
ly looking in his neighbor for what
he sees in himself. As to the pure
it, A cheerful fire was burning in all things are pure, even so. to the
the grate, although the night was j impure all things are impure.—J. C,
not cold, and a lighted lamp stood 1 Hare. ? vi
You did not bring your bonnet?”
as she saw’ Lucy open a box contain
ing a hat trimmed with white.
“My bonntet!” and Lucy laughed
merrily. “Nothing would induce me
to wear a bonnet. Why, no girls of
my age wear them, unless they want
to be thought young ladies, and that
is more than I do. T am sure. No,
Ro; I don t want to be old before my J bloom
Wit from the Pulpit.—It is re- -
lated of a certiain New England di
vine who flourished not many years-
ago, and whose matrimonial relations
are supposed not to have been of the
most agreeable kind, that one Sab
bath morning, while reading to his
congregation the parable of the sup
per, in which occurs the passage:
“And another said, I have bought
five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove
them; I pray thee have me excused.
And another said: I have married
a wife, and therefore cannot come”
'—he suddenly paused at the end of
his verse, drew off his spectacles, and
looking around at his hearers, said,
with emphasis: “The fact is, my
brethren, one woman can draw a man
father away from the kingdom of
heaven than five yoke of oxen.”
The following anecdote has out
lived its early youth, but it still reads
well: John Phoenix tells the story
that he was one day leaving San
Francisco by the steamer. Ever}’- ,
body else was taking leave of friends
—but he did not know a soul in tho
crowd. Ashamed of his loneliness,
asthe boat sheered off he called out
in a loud voice “Good-bye, Colonel!”
and to his great dtlight, eveiy man
on the wharf took ^>ff his hat and
shouted. “Colonel, good-bye!”
Mother—“Tommy, dear, here is
some nice castor oil "with orange ice
in it.” Doctor—“Now remember,
don’t give it all to Tommy—leave
some for me. But Tommy clear was
wide awake, having had a touch of
the castor oil once before, and in
stantly replied, “Doctor’s snch a
nice man, ma, give it all to him.” Ma
laughed and Tommy got better with
out the aid of any more castor oil or
orange ice.
“Half a pound of shot judiciously
administered to sympathetic cats, at
this season of the year, will beaf'fnut
in increased hours of s 1 u,ur per
throughout the summer and have^a
tendency to prevent a corner m the
chicken market.
An old fellow out west, over sixty
years of age, has recently married a
blooming lass °1 sixteen. She may
been i
1 a* while, but she must!
the icy touch of