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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