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. . 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. •