Newspaper Page Text
. .
YOL. I.
J. It. G. MEDXiOCK. JETHEO ARLINE. E. L. KODGEBS.
ISy Metllock, Arline & Rodgers.
The Herald is published in Sandersville,
Ga. every Friday morning. Subscription
price TWO DOLLARS per annum.
Advertisements inserted at the usual rates.
No charge for .publishing marriages or
deaths.
POETEY.
The Dead Baby.
Close the blue eyes that are gazing so coldly,
Put back the ringlets that shadow his brow,
Fold o’er his bo!?om the pale tiny finders,
And cover the shoulders, so beautiful now.
Kiss the soft lips that are silent forever,
Fold up the dress that was stainless and
[white,
Draw down the curtains and close ail the
[windows,
Let not the sun glare so shining and bright.
Clasn in his fineers the_pure meadow lilies,
Take off the slippers all.trodden and worn;
Hangup the hat with its fluttering ribbons,
Lay down the apron, on thorn-bushes torn.
Baby has gone from the valley so fearful,
Poor little feet! they were weary and sore,
But now, he has passed o’er the cold, silent
[river,
And he’s resting his feet on the Heavenly
[shore.
SELECT MISCELLAOT.
THE DISAGREEABLE NEIGHBOR.
BY MRS. EMILY THORNTON.
“Mother,” said a young girl about
fourteen years of age, as she enter
ed the dining room, “I see new ten
ants are moving into the nest door :
a load of furniture stopped there as
I returned from school.”
“Is it possible!” exclaimed the
mother, setting down the ice pitcher
she held in her hand through sur
prise. “Well, I am sorry to hear it,
neighbors are such a plague! I won
der who they are ?”
“Carrie Trimble, who was with me,
said their new pastor had taken the
house, and that her mother, and
several other ladies belonging to
their congregation, were going to
morrow to put down carpets and ar
range the rooms before ..the family
arrived, as they are expected on
Saturday.”
“Is that so ? I wonder if your
Aunt Sarah will be there? She be
longs to that church. Why, here
she is, as Tiive! Speak of a person
and that one is sure to walk in.—
Good morning! I was just wonder
ing if you were going to. help prepare
for your pastor? Lizzie says he is
to live next door.”
“I suppose I shall, although I in
tend to be careful not to do too
much until I see how I like the fam
ily. You will have a good chance
to find out what kind of people they
are for me, as you live so near,” re
turned Aunt Sarah, untying her bon
net ribbons, and fanning herself vig
orously.
“That is so ! I will keep a good
lookout and report all that occurs.
I hope they have no children, as I
was bored to death with that Jones
tribe that just moved away. Such
a pack as they were, from the father
and mother down to the ” ■
“Yes! yes! I have heard about
them, over and over again,” inter
rupted Mrs. Bell, who had no idea
of listening to another harangue
about the faiflts of those that had
gone, for she well knew that when
her sister-in-law once touched upon
the-subject of her neighbors she
never knew when to stop. “Yes,
there are children. I am told he
has quite a family—three boys and
two girls, the last being twins.”
“Good gracious ! Boys !—three
boys!—then I might as well make
up my mind that I am never to know
another hour of peace, ministers
children always being worse than
other people’s. I do wish they had
taken some Other house 1” fretfully
replied Mrs. Botherwell. “If there
is anything I do hate, it is the ever
lasting noise of boys!”
“There was no other house to rent
in the place that would suit them;
and really ”
“Pshaw! I know better! There is
plenty of houses. Well, you just
mark one thing, if those children an
noy me, they will hear of it, I don’t
care who their father is. The idea
of bringing three more boys into the
neighborhood!”
“But boys have to live somewhere,
mother,” remarked Lizzie, who had
been an interested listener to the
conversation; “and as long as Mr.
Lee pays the rent, I do not see why
he may not live in that house as well
as any other.”
“You know-nothing about it, child,
and should never speak unless spok
en to!” crossly returned the mother,
who felt that her daughters words
contained a well-merited rebuke.
Lizzie subsided again into silence,
while the conversation between the
sisters-in-law was continued' with
much spirit for some time.
“Here we are, children, at our new
home!” said Mr. Lee, in cheerful
tones, as he opened the carriage-door,
and stepping out, handed, one by
one, the smiling little flock to the
sidewalk; then, as a sweet-looking
woman emerged also from the ^hi
de, he drew her hand under his arm
SANDERS V.TLLE. GEORGIA, JUNE 20, 1873.
NO. 51.
and turned to ascend the steps, whis
pering, as he did so, “That this may
be a pleasant home to my dear ones,
is my fervent prayer!” #
“I think it will, Augustus. It cer
tainly looks very pleasant outside.- -
But see, we are expected!” whis
pered the lady in return, as the hall-
t’oor opened and a Bevy of -bright
races appeared within, the possessors
of each being anxious to shake hands
with the new pastor, and to bo in
troduced to liis wife and children.
I will not linger to describe the sur
prise of the clergyman’s family, at
lindiug the house in comfortable or
der, carpets down, fnmiture arrang
ed, and, in several cases, new articles
added as presents, so that everything
presented an inviting appearance,
while an ample supper was neatly
arranged in the dining-room with
which to refresh tile hungry as well
tired travelers.
The children were, indeed, hungry,
and while doing justice to. the good
things provided, a message reached
them that, after the meal, the family
was requested to repair to the study,
an apartment they had not as yet
been allowed to visit.
There truly, a pleasant surprise
awaited them, as this room had been
entirely furnished by the generosity
of a liberal minded people. Carpet,
sofa, chairs, table, everything was
selected with the most perfect taste,
and with the utmost good feeling.
But what especially delighted the
pastor’s heart, was a large black
walnut book case, well filled with
the choicest works from the most
approved authors.
It was a happy group that after
the dispersion of their fr-iends, kneel
ed around the family altar and re
turned thanks for the many bless
ings stranger hands had brought to
their home and hearts.
“How pleasant everything does
look,” said Mrs. Lee to her husband,
as they sat at the breakfast table
the next morning, doing ample jus
tice to the beefsteak, muffins, and
hot coffee, prepared by the excellent,
new, colored cook, who gloried in
the name of Philis. “I wonder if
anything can happen to annoy us in
this pleasant home ? I think we
have a great many blessings, and
not the least among them, is that
good yard for the, children to play
in; they would feel so confined with
out it, after living so long in the
country. City life, anyway, will
be a great change to the little fel
lows.”
“Mother, can we play there awhile
after breakfast ?” asked Albert, the
eldest,a blue-eyed,rougish,little chap,
about ten years of age.
“Yes! but I hope you will play
gently. Remember, George is not
strong, and must not be roughly
handled.”
“May I have some flower seed to
plant, father ?” sked Henry, a curly
headed child of six, looking plead
ingly toward his parent as he spoke.
“You may, if you are very good,”
returned Mr. Lee, patting liis rosy
cheek as he arose from the table.
The boys went delightedly from
the dining room to the garden, fol
lowed by the twins, two sweet little
girls, Flora and Cora, by name, who
carried their dolls with them and
who told their mother on leaving the
room, that they slxould play “go to
see,” with their babies.
So the children were happily dis
posed of, and as the parents busied
themselves around the house, ar
ranging little matters to suit their
own tastes, they often smiled, as
shout upon shout of childish laugh
ter floated to them through the open
window.
“We shall indeed 'appreciate the
garden, dear,” remarked Mr. Lee, as
another joyous laugh fell upon his
ears. “How happy they do seem!”
Passing his arm around the waist of
his wife, he drew her to the window
to gaze upon their childish play.
As they approached, what was
their astonishment to hear a woman
exclaiming from the next house, in
loud, cross tones:
“Now see here boys, you just go
into the house. I am not going to
have this noise disturbing me any
longer!”
With rueful countenances and tear
ful eyes the children came rushing in,
exclaiming as they did so:
“Our fun is all spoiled. We can
not play in the garden any -more.
A cross woman next dooi’, sent us
“Missus, what kind of folks do"you
’spect dem is, what libs next door?
I links- dem is mighty medlin and
obstropperous myself. No specti-
bel Christians ’bout ’em, I ’clar to
gracious,” exclaimed Phillis, three
or four days after their settlement,
as her mistress entei’ed the kitchen
where her dark servant stood almost
pale with rage.
“Why, Phillis, what is the matter ?
what have they done this morning ?”
asked Mrs. Lee, quietly.
“Dey gibs me more sas dan I eb-
ber got afore, since I been in dis
skin. Fact, Missus, ebbery word ob
it. You see, I just took dat ashbar’l
ob oum and sot it on de walk for de ash
man to empty, as ebery body does in
dis yer place, when just as I chunks
it down, out swings dat old fault
finder next door, wid her ole man at
her heels, and both began to jaw be
cause it sot a leetle onto dere old
walk. ‘Look here, gal,’ says she,
‘just hist dat bar’l off our walk and
never dare set it dat way agin, if you
value your wool.’
“‘Yes,’ shouted de Massy, who
wasnogemman at all. ‘You black
cuss, now take dat off mighty quick,
or I’ll kick it into de middle ob de
street, and you arter it.’ Yes, golly,
he said jest dat to a spectabil girl
like me, and I only want to say dat
you must get anodder girl, fori won’t
be sassed by such trash as dem, no
how.”
In vain Mrs. Lee soothed and ar
gued. In vain she tried to induce \
the girl whom she really liked, to re
main at least until she could find an-!
other; her feelings were injured and ;
no persuasions could detain her. Go
she would, and go she did, in less i
than an hour, and poor Mrs. Lee was -
left with a large family, a dreadful j
headache, and no one to take one;
step towards aiding her, in this sore i
dilemma, all through a disagreeable I
neighbor.
“Well, Hetty,” said Mrs. Bell, as j
she walked into Mrs. Botherwell’s \
sitting-room the Monday following, i
where she commenced a lively string j
of inquiries about the people next
door, “what kind of a family are they, j
do you think ? . I suppose yon can
tell by this time.” ,
“A mean set, I assure yon,” ex- j
claimed Mrs. Botherwell, warming j
up as she drew off her spectacles ;
and settled herself in an easy rocker ;
for a long story. “Such a herd of i
noisy children I never yet saw. j
Worse even than the Jones tribe,;
and they were bad enough the Lord j
knows. I march them in every j
time they set their feet in the garden, ;
for I am bound not to listen to their !
everlasting pow-wow. Then Mrs. j
Lee can’t keep a girl, for that neat j
looking darkey, the congregation j
selectod for her, only staid four days, j
and now she is trying her best to j
get another. As for housekeeping, |
she don’t know a thing about it. I j
see that by the way she managesI
everything. She never keeps the j
alley clean at all, and as her back
gate opens into it, as well as mine, j
she should do her part. I went my- :
self yesterday and knocked at her
gate, telling one of the boys who
opened it to inform his mother if
she did not keep the alley clean I
would complain to the authorities
and have her fined. In about ten
minutes one of the boys swept it, as
she had no girl. But, how do you
like them yourself ?”
“I like Mr. Lee very well as a
preacher,” was the answer, “but I
think it was scandalous to see his
wife come to church dressed as she
did yesterday. Don’t you believe
she wore one of those very expen
sive grenadine bereges with three or
four ruffles on the skirt ?”
“Ruffles ? not ruffles ?” almost
shrieked Mrs. Botherwell, in her
astonishment.
“Yes, as I live, ruffles.”
“Outrageous! what was the man
thinking of to allow it ?”
woman, her injuries were severe and
her groans and
cries pitiful.
Mrs. Lee waited neither ceremony
: nor summons. Foi’getting in one
■ moment all the annoyances to which
| she and her family had been subject-
| ed by this one disagreeable neigh-
i bor and thinking only of the snffer-
: ing woman, she dropped her work,
| and in another -moment stood beside
: the prostrate form.
“Are you much hurt, Mrs. Bother
well? Let me help you to rise.”
“O, my leg! my log! I am sure
| my poor leg is broken,” was the on-
! ly reply of the sufferfer as she attemp
ted to lift her to her feet.
Sending Betty, h$r own maid im
mediately for .a physician, and Mrs.
Botherwell’s for Tier husband, who
soon appeared, Mrs. Lee exerted
herself for the comfc-’I; of the afflict
ed. Carefully she assisted in bear
ing her to a bed she had hastily ar
ranged, tenderly she fanned her
while the physician examined the ex
tent of the injury; and when he pro
nounced it a compound fracture just
above the ankle, it was her hands
that held the broken limb while be
ing replaced, and her indefatigable
nursing that soothed the invalid
through the long hours of the ^tedi
ous night 4hat followed.
Weeks glided on, yet Mrs. Both
erwell still lay in the same position,
her limb tightly strapped to a ma
chine, with the prospect of months
passing before she conld again take
her accustomed place lb the family.
All these weeks she had found her
greatest comfort to consist in the
presence and kind attentions of her
much-abused neighbor Mrs. Lee,
who attended to her limb, prepared
choice dishes for her benefit, or read
for the diverson of her mind. Ly
ing there afflicted and suffering, Mrs.
Botherwell had ample opportunity
for reflection. All her unneighbor-
ly actions, her unkind behavior to
this stranger and her children arose
before her, and caused feelings of
shame and regret. As she noted her
sweet smile and forgiving deportment,
and received daily benefit from ner
presence and attentions, she felt as if
coals of fire were now indeed heaped
upon her head.
Bursting into tears one day, as
Mrs. Lee entered with an amusing
book and a basket of fine luscious
grapes, she exclaimed as she caught
her hand in hers :
“Dear Mrs. Lee, I cm never, tell
yon how deeply I regret my unchris
tian conduct towards you in days
gone by. I have been an injury to
you and yours in more ways than
one, and yet you have returned my
unkindness with the most sisterly
carp. Tell me you forgive me, and
never will I again be so disagreeable
a neighbor.”
“I do forgive yon fully and freely,
Mrs. Botherwell, and did, long, long
ago. Think, then, no more of the
past, and I also will forget it, and
remember that you will ever find in
me a true friend and sympthizer.”
“God bless you, dear Mrs. Lee!
I shall never forget this lesson—never,
Txever forget your kindness and
worth!”
HOW DAISY AND YIOLET PAID
THE RENT.
“Never mind, children! take your
slates and books awhile, and when
next you go out to play, try to be
very quiet.”
“Then we may play there again,
father, notwithstanding what she
said?”
“Certainly! we have perfect right
to our own premises, but we have no
right to be noisy and troublesome.”
This was but a commencement,
Mr. and Mrs. Lee soon found of the
troubles they were to^experience
from a curious, selfish, and ill-bred
neighbor, who seemed to make it her
chief business to watch what was ta
king place in their home and gar
den, and to make complaints of the
servants and children.
“Betty,” said Mrs. Lee, about i
three months after the foregoing
conversation, “I wish you would take
this small piece of carpeting, and
throwing it over the clothes line,
beat out the loose dust in it. It has
been shaken since it was used, but
lying in the storerroom, the outside
has become a little dusty.”
Taking up the carpet as directed,
Betty passed to the yard, where she
was soon busy carrying out the or
der of her mistress. But two or
three strokes had been given, how
ever, by her vigorous arm, before
Mrs. Botherwell appeared upon the
piazza, exclaiming in loud, angry
tones, which was distinctly heard by
Mrs. Lee, who sat beside the parlor
window:
“Mrs. Lee must be a great lady, I
think, to have carpets shaken in her
garden, thus soiling by the dust her
neighbors’ windows. Just tell her
for——”
Here Mrs. Botherwell’s words were
cut short by an unfortunate and
purely unexpected occurrence. In
her excitement and rage she took
a step backward, lost her balance,
and fell with a great crash down the
piazza steps to the stone flagging be
low. Being a very heavy and large
Look Out for Him!
For the great adversary who al
ways aims at the open point in the
harness. A shrewd writer says:
“Does not Satan attack us in our
weakest point ? How he suits hi3
mode of temptation to the disposi
tion of the victim! Are you vain ?
In Bow dazzling a lustre will he place
the pleasures of this poor world be
fore you! Are you ambitious ? In
what splendid honor will he make
the great things of man appear! Are
you discontented ? In what exalted
light will he place the advantages of
others before your eyes! Are you
jealous ? In what strong contrasts
will he place the kindness of the
person you love toward another than
you! Are you of an ill temper?
How he will make you think every
body hates you, neglects you, de
spises you, or intends to slight you!
Are you indolent ? How wearisome
■null he make the slightest efforts for
AroTier’s g:od seem in your eyes!
are you too active? How useless will
he make the quiet hour of prayer,
and thought, and- reading seem to
you! He tempts us to what our
nature is most inclined; he suits
his allurements to our inclination.
If we are of a quiet temper, he will
take care to make us jealous; ifrwe
are too active, he will not tempt us
to be idle. He knows us well; he
drives our inclination to its far ex
treme.”
The expenses of the Department
of Agriculture for "the current year
were $170,339. Three thousand cop
ies of the report are to be published.
The copies will cost therefore, about
$60 apiece. _ _
George Francis Train, it is said,
will sue the city of New York for false
imprisonment, claiming $100,000.
A boy’s idea of having a tooth
drawn: The doctor hitched fast on
me pulled his best, and just before
he killed me the tooth came out.
Daisy and Yiolet Bradford were
twin sisters; and two better or pret
tier little girls than they were seldom
found. They did not look much
alike, for while Daisy had^ Brown
hair and hazel eyes, Yiolet had dark
blue eyes and golden hair. Both
wore curls; and a pretty sight it
was to see the golden curls of one
and the brown ringlets of the other
mingling as they lay in their bed at
night, or sat on the door-step of the
cottage where they lived, with their
widowed mother. Once they lived
in a handsome house in London;
but when Mr. Bradford died, their
mother was obliged to sell nearly
all she possessed, and moved into a
less expensive abode. Here she
lived for some time, straggling very
bravely; but being gradually re
duced, she had recently moved again,
settling in this quiet country town,
where rents were cheaper; and she
was enabled to keep a shelter for
herself and little ones, by taking in
needle-work, and living very econom
ically. '
The children did not mind the
change mncli; indeed, they loved
the country, home the best, for they
had green fields to play in, and they
could gather plenty of .wild flowers,
and have poenies under the trees; and
above all, they had a little lamb that
wandered to the cottage one day,
and as they conld not find an owner,
they adopted it, and called it Snow
ball, it was so soft and white. It
slept in the shed, and drank milk out
of their saucers: ^ and wherever they
went the lamb was sure to go. A
gentleman, seeing them playing with
it, wanted to buy it for his little girl;
but, next to their mother, they lov
ed Snowball, and could not be in
duced to part with him.
Mrs. Bradford had been ill for
weeks, with a sprained wrist. She
could not afford to have a doctor,
and it got well very slowly. Of
course she could mot do any sewing;
the little money she had saved was
spent for food; and she had no pros
pect of getting any more till she was
able to work again and earn some.
The rent-day would soon come round.
Always before, when the agent had
had called, she had the money ready
for him; now she had not a penny
for him, and she knew not wha£
would become of her. She was a
stranger in a strange land, and had
no friends to look to—no father, or
mother, or sister.
She had a brother; but whether
he was dead or alive, she could not
tell. When she was quite young, he
ran away to sea. His father was
very much displeased at first, but
finally thought it would do the boy
good ; and so, when he wrote home,
and asked his parents’ forgiveness,
and told them how he enjoyed him
self on the sea, his father wrote to
tell him to stick to his business, to
be a good sailor, and he would make
a good, captain. The father never
received another letter. Whether
his boy was shipwrecked, or whether
he had forgotten his folks at home,
they were unable to decide. His
poor mother did not stand it long;
her husband died just after Mrs.
Bradford was married. She never
believed he was dead. She thought
he must bo on some foreign island,
or-sailing in a different vessel from
the one he started with. She wrote
again and again to his old address,
but received no answer, and finally
gave it up, that if he ever came
home, she would be Sure to see him.
What a blessing it would be to
have her only brother with her now!
The children clid all they conld for
her, and did not complain when they
had to eat dry bread. But the
mother’s heart ached for her dar
lings, and bitter tears would fall,
as she thought of the luxuries they
once enjoyed.
The last day of the month came,
and Mrs. Bradford thought she would
try and work a little. If she could
wofk at all she would send word to
the landlord that she should soon
be able to pay him, if he would let
her remain in the cottage. But she
found that she conld not use her
needle at all, and she felt sad; for
she had only lived in the place a
short time, and the agent was a
stem, strict man, who knew nothing
about her, and she was afraid he
would turn her ont of doors. If he
should, where could she go with her
two children but to the work-honse ?
O, it was awful to think of!
Daisy and Violet saw that some
thing troubled their mother, and they
begged her to tell them what the
matter was. She kept it from them
as long as she could, bnt now she
told them all that troubled her ;.and
when she saw the tears stream down
their faces, she asked them for her
sake to be brave little girls, and try
and be cheerful.
“Bnt, mamma;” said Voilet, “if
we could only do something for you?”
Yes,” said Daisy; “if we were
boys, we conld earn lots oi money
doing errands, or holding horses.”
The mother conld but smile at her
little Daisy, but she told them that
she would not change her little girls
for a half a dozen boys, and they
conld help her a great deal by being
cheerful; and perhaps she conld
think of something that would ena
ble her to keep the cottage.
Violet and Daisy went ont and
sat under their favorite tree, and
talked the matter over and over
again. If they could only do some
thing to help their mother. While
they were conversing earnestly, with
bent heads, they felt something cold
touch their little hands, and looking
up, they saw their little lamb stand
ing rubbing his nose against them,
trying to attract their attention. The
children looked each other in the
face an instant, and both cried to
gether, “We must sell Snowball.”
“Why didn’t we think of it be
fore ?” said Daisy, earnestly.
“It will be hard to part with you
little pet!” exclaimed Violet.
Ana they both threw their arms
round Snowball’s neck, and their
tears mingled together on his back,
and quite moistened his curly wool.
Their heads lay buried thus till
Snowball, becoming restive, tried to
get away, when Violet, jumping up,
said, “Come, Daisy, shall I ask
mamma if we may go for a walk?”
“Yes, but do not tell her what we
are going to do. It would make her
feel sad, and then perhaps we would
not h^ve the courage to go.”
“No,” replied Violet, “I will not.
Violet obtained her mother’s per
mission to be gone an hour; and the
sisters started off, hand in hand, with
Snowball frisking beside them.
“Poor little Snowball. He does
not know we are going to sell him.
O, who shall we sell him to, Daisy?”
“Let us carry him to Squire Hill,
our landlord, and see if he will take
him for the rent,” said Daisy. “He
lives up there on the hill; and if he
will take Snowball, perhaps we can
see him sometimes; and if he won’t
why, we can sell him to that man
who lives over the other side of the
bridge. You know he wanted to
buy him for his little girl. O, Violet
if we should ever be able to buy bim
back again, wouldn’t that be splen
did?”
. “Yes: but if we never conld, we
would not keep him, much as we
love him, when dear mamma is so
ill, would we?”
“No, indeed! O I hope we shall
succeed ?”
Thus talking and comforting each
other, the children walked on till they
came to a handsome mansion, a
green lawn in front, with a pretty,
sparkling fountain, and beautiful
flowers and trees. It seemed like
fairyland to the children. They
went timidly np the steps, just as
the door was opened by Sqnire Hill
himself—a tall, stoutish gentleman,
with such a kind and good-natured
face, that Daisy and Voilet felt at
home with him at once.
“Halloa! what’s this? Two little
girls and a lamb!” he exclaimed.
Can we see Squire Hill?” said
Daisy.
I am Sqnire’HilL What can I do
for you ? Do you want leave to pick
my blackberries ?”
No, sir. We came to see if you
would buy Snowball, our lamb.”
Ah! you want to sell your lamb?
Got tired of it, and want new rib
bons for your curls, little ones ?”
Tired of Snowball!” And the
children, unable longer to restrain
themselves, bent their heads, and
the tears flowed silently down their
cheeks.
“I did not intend to grieve you,”
said the Squire, taking them both
by the hand.” Come to the summer
house, and tell me all about it.”
He showed them the flowers by
the way; and by the time they had
reached the arbor, their tears were
dried, and they told him their moth
er was Mrs. Bradford, who lived
in the little cottage at the foot of the
hill; that she was ill, and unable to
pay the rent, and they had brought
Snowball, hoping they would take
him for the rent, or, at least, keep
him till their mother was able to pay
it.
The gentleman,-could hardly keep
the tears from his eyes. He turned
his head away, that they might not
see his emotion. He told them he
would take the lamb, and their moth
er might pay the rent whenever she
was perfectly able and not before;
and then-he asked if they had no
brother or uncle to help them.
“No,” said Violet, mournfully; we
haven’t any brother or uncle—only
Uncle George, who is far off at sea.
Mamma often cries, and says if he
would only write to her, to let her
know where he is, she would be hap
py. She has not seen him since she
was a little girl;”
“Who is your mother ? What was
her name before she was married ?”
cried Mr. Hill, starting np.
“What was her name, Daisy?”
asked Violet, “I have forgotten.”
“Why, her name was Hdl, just
like yours,” responded Daisy, look
ing np in the gentleman’s face.
“Are you sure, my child?”
“Yes, quite sure.
Mr. Hill now questioned and cross-
questioned, till aU doubts were re-
are my
am your
moved, when, folding them both in
his arms, he said: “Yon
dear little neices, and I
Uncle George!”
Daisy and Violet conld not at
first realize the truth; but when
they did, their delight knew no
bounds.
“Come,” at length said Squire
Hill; “let ns go and find yonr Mam
ma.”
So they started off, Daisy holding
one of Uncle George’s hands and
Violet the other. When near the
cottage, he told them they might
ran on and tell the news.
Jfrs. Bradford sat reading the Bi
ble -at the table, when she heard
the pattering of little feet, and Daisy
and Violet burst into the room, ex
claiming, “We’ve found him ! we’ve'
found mm! Uncle George, is com
ing, and you won’t have to' pay the
rent.”
“Why, my children,” exclaimed
Mrs. Bradford, “what possesses yon?’
But at this moment Sqnire Hill
at the door; and though
not seen him forygars, she
knew it was her long-lost brother.
She was very weak; and starting
np to meet him, her joy was so great
that it-overpowered her, and she fell
fainting in his arms. They soon bro’t
her to, however, and such a rejoicing
and such a feast tho inmate of the
little Cottage had never seen before.
Squire Hill told his sister how he
had searched for her two whole
years. Tbe old homestead was oc
cupied by strangers, and they conld
tell him nothing about her. He had
become rich, and had built that
splendid house, hoping to find her
some time, and take her to live with
him. And she, in her turn, told bim
how many letters she had written
and sent to sea, little dreaming that
ho was seeking for her in their own
land; and-«he dreamed still less that
the rich Squire Hill, whom she had
lived so nearforthe pastfew months,
and who she feared would soon turn
her out of doors, was her only broth
er, whom she had almost given up
as lost.
Of course they all went to live in
the Squire’s mansion, and Mrs. Brad
ford soon recovered the use of her
hand.
One thing troubled the children.
They could find nothing of Snow
ball, and they were afraid he had
got lost. The day they found their
uncle, they were so excited about
him that they forgot all about Snow
ball, and had not seen him since.
But one morning Uncle George called
Daisy and Violet to see something
he had ; and follow him into the
garden, in one of the paths they saw
Snowball, with another lamb by his
side exactly like him; and they were
harnessed in a beautiful little car-
riage in the shape of a nautilus
shell. Daisy and Violent went to
caress Snowball; and on liis neck
they saw a collar with his name on
it, and on the collar of the other was
“Snowflake, while on the side of tho
carriage was painted, in bright let
ters, “Daisy and Violet.”
Such a dainty little affair could
not be found in all the country around.
Seated within, holding the reigns,
were a pair of twin dolls, their eyes
sparkled with delight, as though
they were enjoying a fine ride.
The children fairly danced for joy;
and running to their uncle, they
overwhelmed him with thanks.
Uncle George kissed them and
said, “My dear little nieces, as often
as you play with your lambs, may
you remember that it was yonr duti
ful love for your mother that has
bronght ns all so much happiness.”
Life.
Don’t mistake life. Don’t draw
wrong conceptions of what it takes
to make life. All there is of life is
love. Ambition is bnt crumbling
straw to beBuried by time. It Hies
upon the lips, but enters not the
heart to make it truly glorious. All
these conquests—this adding of aores
—this piling np wealth for others, is
nothing to the growing of that lore
for others, which will carry'us safely
over the wondrous sea where those
whose hearts are heavy with Inst and
passion, base and selfish, desirous
only for personal gratification, will
sink to rise no more.
A Frenchman, resolved to be rid
of life, went a little before high tide
to a post set up by the seaside. He
had provided himself -with a ladder,
a rope, a pistol, a bundle of matches
and a vial of posion. Ascending the
ladder, he tied one end of the rope
to post, and the other end round his
neck; then he took the poison, set his
clothes on fire, put the the muzzle
of the pistol tonis head, and kicked
down the ladder, he sloped the pis
tol so that the ball missed his head,
and cut through the rope by which he
was snpended; be feu into the sea,
thus extinguishing the flames *ef his
clothes, and the sea-water he involun
tarily swallowed, counteracted the
poison, and thus, in spite of his pre
cautions, he remained unhanged, un-
shot, ttnpoisoned, tsnbnrned and un-
drtwned. •