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YOL. II.
SANDERSYTLLE, GEORG IA, AUGUST 15, 1873.
<*
NO. 7.
J :i G . WEDLOCK. JETHRO AULtJfE. R. I.. RODGERS.
5Sy Jlcdtock, Arliuc & Kodgers.
The Herald is published in Sandersville,
On- every Friday morning. Subscription
price TWO DOLLARS per annum.
Advertisements inserted at the usual rates, i
No charge for publishing marriages or I
deaths.
POETRY.
IBettexh
“I give thee joy, my darling!”
Escaped—set free ! set free!
The young life’s hours of sorrow
Wore on, how wearily;
There is no sorrow yonder,
Where Jesus welcomes thee.
I give thee joy, my darling !
Thy sleep is calm and sweet,
And thy bosom heaves no longer
With that painful, fluttering heat
Till the resurrection morning
Lie still, oh, tired feet!
I give thee joy, my darling !
The weight is off thy breast!
This world is dark and stormy—
With Jesus, that is best
The last tear-drops have fallen :
Sweet eyes, now take your rest.
I give thee joy, my darling !
See where thy mother stands
And watches with rejoicing
Those motionless dear hands,
And thinks of thy glad spirit
Among the angel bands.
I give the^joy, my darling!
I, left here in the night,
Can sea beyond the river
Thy young brow bathed in light;
And on me falls the radiance
Of thy garments shining white,
I give thee joy, my darling!
For Jesus is thy King ;
And to his blessed presence
He will all His people bring,
There we, one day, together
Shall Hallelujah sing.
Anna Warner. ■
SELECT MISCELLANY.
Last hours ot Lady Jane Grey.
That clay, on the eve of which
Queen Mary sat in her closet with
her Spanish counselor, was Ash "Wed
nesday ; and Mary, on consenting
that her cousin should not live forty
hours longer, called to her presence
Father Feckenham, whom she had
just made Dean of St. Paul’s and
Abbot of Westminister, and bade
him go to the Deputy’s house in the
Tower, with news that Lady Jane
must die, and see what could be done
to save her soul.
Feckenham, who brought down his
message of the death to the Tower,
was startled to see the girl receive
his news with a sad and welcome
smile. It seemed to him out of na
ture, almost out of grace. He spoke
to her of her soul; of the sins of
men ; of the need of repentance;
but he found her calm and happy—
at peace with the world and at one
with God. He talked to her first of
faith, of liberty; of holiness; then
of the sacrament, the Scriptures,
and the universal Church. She knew
all these things better than himself;
and she held a language about them
far beyond his reach. With a sweet
patience, she put an end to the de
bate by saying that since she had
only a few hours now to live, she
needed them all for prayer.
The Dean was moved, as men of
his order are seldom moved. Con
vert this girl in a day ! Worn as he
was in church affairs, he knew that
no skill of his would be able, in one
winter day, to avail him against one
who combined a scholar’s learning,
with a woman’s wit. If her soul
was to be saved—and the Father was
anxious to save her soul—that order
for her execution on Friday morn
ing must be staid. With the sweet
voice pulsing in his ear, he rode back
to Whitehall, and told the vindictive
Queen, with the bold energy of a
priest, that her orders for that execu
tion on Friday must be withdrawn.
With much ado, the Queen gave way,
and the puzzled Father went back
to the Tower to resume his task.
Jane was kind but cold. She had
no use for him and his precepts in
her final hour on earth. His going
to Court about her sentence gave
her pain. She did not want to die;
at seventeen no one wants to die;
but she did not like the Queen to add
one day to her life under the hope
that she would act as Dudly and
Warwick had done, in giving up their
faith. That was a sacrifice she could
never make. TV hen Feckenham told
her that the Warrants for Friday were
recalled, she merely said she was
willing to did, if the Queen, her
cousin, was minded to put the law
in force against her. For the rest
she only wanted to be left alone.
“You are not to die to-morrow,”
he persisted.
“You are much deceived,” said
Jane, “if you think I have any desire
of longer life.”
When it was known in the Tower
that warrants were out, and that
Jane would die on Monday morning,
every one became eager to get some
token from her, to catch a last word
from her lips, a final glance from her
eye. To Thomas Brydges„the deputy,
in whose house she had lived nearly
eight mouths, she gave a small book
of devotions, bound in vellum, con
taining two scraps of-her writing,
and a few words by Lord Guilford
one of her notes was addressed to
Brydges himself, in words that must
have gone to his soul: “Call upon
God to incline your heart to his laws,
to quicken you in his way, and not
to take the word of truth utterly out
of your mouth.”
Sunday morning she spent in prayer,
and reading her book, a copy of the
Greek Testament, in which she ob
served a blank leaf at the end, and
taking up her pen, wrote some last
words to her darling sister, Lady
Catherine Gray, sad heiress of all
her rights and miseries.
“I have sent you, good sister Kate,
a book which, although it be not
outwardly rimmed with gold, yet in
wardly it is of more worth than preci-
ousstones.'"'It is the book, dear sister,
of the law of the Lord; his testa
ment and last will, which he bequeath
ed to us wretches, which will lead
you to eternal joy.”
When this tenderly reared girl of
seventeen was summoned to the
scaffold, her two gentlewomen could
hardly walk for weeping; but Lady
Jane, who was dressed in a black
gown, came forth with a prayer book
in her hand, a heavenly smile on her
face, a tender light in her gray eyes.
She walked across the green, passed
through the files of troopers, mount
ed the scaffold, and then, turning to
the crowd of spectators, softly said :
. “Good people, I am come hither
to die. The fact against the Queen’s
highness was unlawful; but touch
ing the procurement and desire there
of by me, or on my behalf, I wash
my hands thereof in innocency, be-
fere God and in the face of you, good
Christian people, this day.”
She paused, as if to put away from
her the world, with which she had
now done forever. Then she added;
“I pray you all, good Christian
people, to bear me witness that I
die a true Christian woman, and that
I look to be saved by no other means
than the mercy of God, in the merits
of the blood of his only Son, our
Lord tfcsus Christ. And now, good
people, while I am alive, I pray you
to assist me with your prayers.”
Kneeling down, she said to Fecken
ham, the only divine who Mary
would allow to come near her : “Shall
I say this psalm?” The abbot falter
ed, “Yes.” On which she repeated,
in a clear voice, the noble psalm :
“Have mercy upon me, O God! af
ter thy great goodness ; according to
the multitude of thy mercies do
away mine offenses.”
When she had come to the last
line, she stood up on her feet, and
took off her gloves and kerchief,
which she gave to Elizabeth Tylney.
The Book of Pslams she gave to
Thomas Brydges, the Lieutenant’s
Deputy. Then she untied her gown,
and took off her bridal gear. The
headsman offered to assist her, hut
she put his hands gently aside, and
drew a white kerchief round her eyes.
The veiled figure of the executioner
sank at her feet and begged her for
giveness for what he irad now to do.
She whispered in his ear a few soft
words of pity and pardon, and then
said to him openly; “I pray you,
dispatch me quickly.” Kneeling be
fore the block she felt for it blindly
with her open fingers. One who
stood by her, touched and guided
her hand to the place which it sought;
when she laid down her noble head,
and saying, “Lord, into thy hands I
commend my spirit,” passed, with
the prayer on her lips, into her ever
lasting rest.— W. H. Dixon.
Wash fob Trees.—In answer to an
inquiry whether lime is beneficial to
an orchard, the Germantown Tele
graph replies to a correspondent as
follows: “Where apple orchards are
kept permanently in grass, as they
should be, a top dressing of lime,
of say thirty bushels to the acre
every five years, will prove very bene
ficial. As to whitewashing the trunks
of trees, we refer our correspondent
to the preparation for that purpose
prescribed by William Saunders, of
the government gardens at Washing
ton, which has proved of the great
est benefit. This wash is made as
follows .• Put half a bushel of lime
and four pounds powdered sulphur
in a tight barrel, slacking the lime
witli hot water, the mouth of the bar
rel being covered with a cloth. This
is reduced to the consistence of or
dinary whitewash; at the time of ap
plication half an ounce of carbolic
acid is added to each gallon of the
liquid. Mr. Saunders says: “I gen
erally apply it in spring, before the
leaves make their appearance, but I
am convinced that it would be more
effective if applied later; but then
it is difficult to do so when the tree
is in foliage.” Mr. Saunders applies
the wash not only to the stem of the
tree, but to some extent to the main
branches.”
He returned his back pay and iaet
his Creator with a clear conscience”
is the solemn conclusion of an obit
uary on a deceased western congress
man.
Shakspeare says Macbeth doth
murder sleep. The retribution is
fearful; for how many actors murder
Macbeth.
A Heroic American Student.
At the gala regatta of the South
German Boating Association at
Marnheim, in Baden, on the 13th of
June, there took place an event
which shed considerable lustre on
American gallantry, and which end
ed in a most romantic manner. On
the above mentioned day the banks
of the Rhine were lined with spec
tators, among which the South Ger
man aristocracy was fully represent
ed. Just as the crews of four boat
ing socioties were speeding past the
last pillar of the new bridge, a thrill
ing spectacle attracted all eyes. A
handsomeyounglady, most elegantly
dressed, who had been leaning over
the low railing of the bridge, sudden
ly lost her balance and fell into the
water, which was at least seventy-
five feet underneath. Two or three
heartrending shrieks burst from lips
of those standing near, and then the
thousands of spectators, losing all
interest in the race, looked with
breathless suspense for the result of
this terrible accident. The poor
young lady struck the water heavily,
and disappeared at once. The Rhine
is at that place deep and rapid; and
when the aged father of the unfor
tunate lady, in a voice of agonizing
grief, offered a princely reward to
whosoever would save his daughter,
there was no response.
All at once a tall young man, in
the costume of a German student,
and wearing the gold embroidered
cap of the Yandal Society, of Heidel
berg. rushed to the left bank of the
river, and plunged boldly into the
water—a leap of thirty feet. There
was a loud shout of applause, and
then again a pause of breathless si
lence. All eyes were riveted on the
gallant swimmer as he struggled
against the rapid current at the very
spot where the young lady had dis
appeared. He dived down. What
a minute of suspense! But all at
once a heavy burden fell from all
those oppressed hearts. The swim
mer emerged from the depth, and on
his arm held the senseless body of
the young lady. Another shout of
applause rang the welkin. Now two
boats rowed rapidly toward the pair;
for the young swimmer was visibly
growing faint, and, when he with his
fail- burden was drawn into one of
the boats, he sank down in utter ex
haustion. When the boat reached
the left bank, the young hero was at
once the object of a fervent ovaton,
while the young woman’s father took
the latter in his arms, and carried
her, still in an unconscious condition,
into a carriage.
The jjtoung hero was a Kentuckian,
named Clarence Goodwin, a law stu
dent at the University of Heidel
berg. The oldest and most experi
enced fishermen on the Rhine pro
nounced his exploit a truly heroic
deed, and already on the following
morning the Grand Duke of Baden
conferred on young Goodwin, who is
only nineteen years old, the large
golden medal for deeds of conspicu
ous courage and devotion. But a
still sweeter reward awaited him.
The young lady, whose life he had
saved, and who, notwithstanding the
terrible shock she had suffered, had
soon revived, was the only daughter
of the Count of Ileigem, one of the
wealthiest South-German noblemen.
Her father went himself to the sav
ior of his daughter, and, after thank
ing him in the most touching man
ner, brought him to the young Coun
tess. The latter thanked young
Goodwin with tears in her eyes, and
said that her life-long gratitude be
longed to him. During the next
few days the two were seen frequent
ly together on the public promenade,
and everybody in Mannheim be
lieves that they are engaged to be
married.
The Spirit of Invention.—Three
hundred years ago, before man had
gained control of the forces of Na
ture, and was yet fighting for the
bare liberty to study them, Lord Ba
con thus estimated the import of in
ventions in the world’s affairs
“The introduction of new inventions
seemeth to he the very chief of all
human actions. The benefits of new
inventions m#y extend to all mankind
universally, but the good of political
achievements can respect but some
particular cantons of men; these
latter do not endure above a few
ages, the former forever. Inventions
make all men happy without either
injury or damage to any one single
person. Furthermore, new inven
tions are, as it were new erections
and imitations of God’s own works.”
Sorrow.—At whatever sign of
genuine sorrow, no one but a brute
can mock. Sorrow is not more a
chastener of the true soul than it is
an iiispirer of reverence. There is
a measure of grief that is spiritual,
elevating, purifying, divine. Most
humanizing and divine is that im
mortal picture of Niobe. The tears
of a mother over her dead babe—
her first * born—or the sadness of
whatever heat is bereaved—these
are sacred symbols of the divine
that stamp and hallow our brother
hood—our humanity. ,
Why the Bed Sea is called Red.
A question that has pnzzled schol
ars found a solution some time since
in the observations of an American
submarine diver. - Smith’s Bible Die
tionary dismisses learnedly the name
of the Red Sea, written e eruthra tha-
lassa in the Septuagrnt. The Dic
tionary surmises that the name was
derived from the red western moun
tains, red coral zoophytes, etc., and
appears to give little weight to the
real and natural reason which came
under our American’s notice. On
one occasion the diver observed,
wliiie under sea, that the curious
wavering shadows, which cross the
lustrous, golden floor, like Frauen-
hofer’s lines on the spectrum, began
to change and lose themselves. A
purple glory of intermingled colors
darkened the violet curtains of the
sea chambers, reddening all glints
and tinges with an angry fire. In
stead of the lustrous, golden firma
ment, the thallas spheredarkened to
crimson and opal. The walls grew
purple, the floor as red. as blood ;
the deep itself was purpled with the
venous hue of deoxidized life-cur
rents.
The view on the surface was even
more magnificent. The sea at first
assumed the light tawny or yellow
ish red of sherry wino. Anon this
wine-color grew instinct with richer
radiance; as far as eye could see,
and flashing in the crystalline splen
dor of the Arabian sun, was a glori
ous sea of rose. The dusky red
sandstone hills, with a border of
white sand and green and flowered
foliage, like an elaborately wrought
cup of 'Bohemian glass enameled
with brilliant flowers, held the spar
kling liquid petals of that rosy sea.
The surface, on examination, proved
to be covered with a thin brickdust
layer of infusoria slightly tinged
with orange. Placed in a white
glass bottle, this changed into a deep
violet, but the wide surface of the
external sea was of that magnificent
and brilliant rose-color. It was a
new pleasing example of the lustrous,
ever-varying beauty of the ocean
world. It was caused by diatoma-
ceie, minute algre, which under the
microscope revealed delicate threads
gathered in tiny bundles, ana con
taining rings, like blood disks, of
that curious coloring matter in tiny
tubes.
This miracle of beauty is not with
out its analogies in other seas. The
medusae of the Arctic seas, an allied
existence, people the ultramarine
blue of the cold, pure sea, with the
vivid patches of living green thirty
miles in diameter. These minute or
ganisms are doubly curious from
their power of astonishing produc
tion and the strange electric fire they
display. Minute as these micro
scopic creatures are, every motion
and flash is the result of volition,
and not a mere chemic or mechanic
phosphorescence. The Pliotocaris
light a flashing cirrus, on being irri
tated, in brilliant kindling sparks,
increasing in intensity until the
whole organism is illuminated. The
bring fire washes over its back, and
pencils in greenish yellow light its
microscopic outline. Nor do these
creatures lack a beauty of their own.
Their minute shields of pure trans
lucent silex are elaborately wrought
in microscopic symbols of mimic
heraldry. They are the chivalry of
the deep, the tiny knights with lance
and cuirass, and oval bossy shield
carved in quaint conceits and orna
mental fashion. Nor must we des
pise them when we reflect upon their
power of accretion. The GallioneUce,
invisible to the naked eye, can, of
their heraldic shields and flnty ar
mor, make two cubic feet of Bilin
polishing slate in four days. By
straining §ea-water, a web of green
ish cloth of gold, illuminated by
their play of self-generated electric
light, has been collected. Humboldt
and Ehrenberk speak of their vorac
ity, their power of discharging elec
tricity at will, and their sporting
about, exhibiting an intelligent en
joyment of the life God has given to
them. Man and his works perish,
but the monuments of the infusoria
are the flinty ribs of the sea, the
giant bones of huge continents,
heaped into mountain ranges over
which the granite and porphyry have
set their stony seal forever. Man
thrives in his little zone; the popu
lous infusoria crowd every nook of
earth from the remote poles to the
burning equatorial belt.
Josh BileinGs on Hens.—The best
time tew set a hen iz when the hen
iz reddy. I kan’t tell what the best
breed iz, but the Shangbiis the meen-
est. It kosts az much tew bord 1 az
it duz a stage boss, and you mout az
well undertaik tew fat a fanning mill
by running oats thru it.
There ain’t no profit in keeping a
lien for his eggs if he laze less than
1 a da,
Hens are very long lived, if tha
don’t kontract the throte diseaze,
I kan’t tell eggzactly how tew pick
out a good heft, but az a general
thing, the long eared ones, I kno are
the leest apt tew scratch up the gar
den!
[From the Detroit Free Press.]
The Parrot and the Clergyman.
Last winter a Gratiot street sa
loon keeper went to Cincinnati on a
visit, and while seeing the town he
came across a saloon sporting the
wickedest old parrot which ever
learned to speak the English language
Gratiot street stood by and heard
the bird “rip and teai*” for a straight
hour, and when he came home that
parrot came with him. All the way
up here the purchase “went for”
brakeinen and baggagemen, ripping
out oaths which Captain Kid couldn’t
have handled, and the further North
he came the more wicked he grew.
Reaching Detroit, his cage was hung
up in the saloon, and “Jack” has
been there ever since up to Friday.
It was a poor day when he didn’t
learn some new oath or slangy ex
pression, and finally he became so
that nobody but a hardened villain
could talk with him. He was sold
last Friday for $20, and his owner
kept him about an hour, and then
sent him as a present to a minister’s
wife who had been attentive to his
family during sickness. She was
very grateful, having often thought
how nice it would be to have a talk
ing parrot around the house. “Jack”
seemed put out by the change of
owners, and he set on his perch all
Friday night and refused to say a
word. Saturday morning the min
ister’s wife started for Pontiac, and
she carried “Jack’s” cage into her
husband’s study that neither might
be lonesome. She had been gone
about an hour, and the good man
was scribbling away, when all at
once the parrot shouted:
“Hearts is trumps!”
The good man gave a jump and
looked out of the window, thinking
that a couple of bad boys were play
ing euchre under his shade trees.
He could see no one, and supposing
that he was mistaken, he seated him
self and began to write ’again, when
the parrot shouted:
“Not any gin, thank ye!”
Horrified the clergyman looked
around and he saw “J ack” trying to
wink at him. Half doubting it was
the bird which had spoken, yet de
termined to find out, he inquired:
“What?”
“Shut up, or I’ll put a head on ye !”
replied Jack, hanging to the cage
with one claw and shaking his feath
ers.
“Is it possible?” exclaimed the
good man, drawing nearer to the
cage:
“Champagne Charlie was liis name—
Champagne Charlie was his name,”
sang Jack, swinging furiously ou the
stick.
“Vile bird, you shall go out of
here!” said the minister in an ex
cited voice, “I would as soon har
bor a highwayman.”
“Rouse mit him!” cried Jack, and
then he chuckled and cackled as if
he was laughing heartily.
“It is a sin^nd a shame that men
have taught an innocent bird to use
such language,” continued the good
man, as he picked up the cage.
“Hit him with a beer tumbler,”
replied the parrot, trying to fasten
his claws into the ministerial Teg.
“Little did my wife dream what a
viper she was bringing into the
house,” mused the man. “I shall
hire some boy to cany you away.”
Send for the Black Maria,” re
plied the bud, and while he was be
ing carried out ho continued, “Who
stole the wheelbarrow.”
The minister reached the stoop
and called to a boy who was playing
mumblety-peg on the grass.
“Here bub,” he said, as the boy
came up ; “take this bird off some
where and give him away, and I’ll
give you two shillings.”
“Oh, dry up now!” growled “Jack,”
seeming to know that he was to
change places again.
“Give him to any one who will take
him,” continued the minister. “I
have received a shock which fairly
makes me tremble.”
“Chuck him under the table!”
called the bird, as he went through
the gate, and when he was nearly a
block away he could be heard sing
ing r
“We -won’t go home till morning—
Till daylight does appear.”
Yitue and Knowledge.—Virtue is
a power for good in itself. On the
other hand knowledge is power for
good only as it is allied to virtue.
Unsanctified knowledge is often a
dangerous instrumentality, while un
lettered virtue is a tower of strength
to society. A character in its near
est perfection, combines the two,—
virtue—religion—and knowledge.
These form the safeguard of a na
tion, and are objects of the highest
importance in the State.
Better it is, to ward the right con
duct of life, to consider what will be
the end of a thing than what is the
beginning of it; for what promises
fair at first may prove ill, and what
seems at first a disadvantage may
prove very advantageous.
A shrill old lady in Memphis" when
ever she loses her scissors, rouses the
whole family with! “Where’s them
shears appeard to.
Children and Christianity.
In an address at the late anniversa
ry of the American Sunday School
Union, Rev. Dr. Armitage said:
I find a child in no religion but in
the religion of Jesus. Mohammed
seemed to know nothing about chil
dren in their mythology. Their gods
were not born as children. They
were never endowed with the at
tributes of children. They never
threw themselves into the social ties
of children. Oh,* no! That would
not have been natural. That would
not have been divine in their con
ception. And hence they make no
provision for chilclren.
But the great elemental fact of
Christianity is the holy Child Jesus.
Born of a woman, born under the
law, in total helplessness physically,
laid in a manger; cared for by no
man; but the child of the Everlasting
Father, and the Prince of Peace. So
that the Gospel of Jesus is the only
religion on earth that makes provis
ion for a child, and is the only re
ligion in which a child is laid at
the basis and foundation of its
faith.
The Bible is the child’s book as
well as the philosopher’s book; and
if the stern facts of the Bible,
beautiful in love, came to the heart
of the sturdy old tinker in Bedford
jail, they also stole upon the heart
of his little blind Mary at his feet!
So that the philosopher and the child
stand on equal ground in the matter
of salvation. A child is not expected
to depend upon the faith of mystery,
but the faith of great, grand, moral
facts. The Saviour is a fact; Sin is a
fact—not a doctrine, nor a theory,
merely; God is a fact.; Holiness is a
fact; Heaven and Hell and Christ
and Faith and Love are all facts ;
and when a child feels that he is a
living fact, and a loving God in
spires him with love, with faith, with
obedience, what can Gabriel more
than love and believe and obey God
in return?
The Baby’s Tender Heart.
What parent has not at some time
thought that the baby in his house
was the most affectionate, and the
most wonderful in its utterances, of
any child that ever lived ? A brother
clergyman, who has a little daughter
of two years of age, remarkable, at
least, for precocity in talking, relates
an incident which has touched us
deeply, and may interest others.
A sailor called at our brother’s
door, and told a story of suffering.
His ship had been on fire, and him
self and comrades were badly
burned and maimed. His scarred
aims were exhibited, and an appeal
was made for a few pennies, not so
much for a few pennies, not so much
for himself as for his comrades who
were still more badly injured. Baby
seemed to understand all, and with
quivering lip seconded the sailor’s
appeal. Money was handed to the
little one, who, offering to the wound
ed man, said, “Here, poor manny,
all burned up, here some pennies
for you, poor manny.” The poor man,
understanding the prattle of little
May, could only answer with tears.
How deep into his heart fell the
baby’s love; how more precious than
ever to the father and mother was
this tender hearted, unselfish child.
What deep signifieance does such
an instance of true charity impart
to the words of the Master, “Of such
is the kingdom of heaven.”
One of the many capital punish
ments in use under the Chinese
Criminal Code is that of deprivation
of sleep, which generally proves fatal
in about ten days. Five foolish
young Belgians lately tried this ex
periment upon, themselves with
more or less disagreeable results.
They laid a wager that they would
remain awake seven days, on con
dition that they might use all pos-
sibile means of keeping off sleep.
They arranged the employment of
their time in the following manner:
The night was spent in dancing and
drinking quantities of coffee; during
the day they rode, fenced or shot at
a mark, taking coffee every half hour.
One of these young men won the
wager, but lost twenty-five pounds
in weight; two fell asleep after re
maining awake one hundred and
thirty hours; one was seized with in
flammation of the lungs; the fifth
was overcome by slumber while on
horseback, fell and broke his arm,
and thus ended this very unnecessa
ry ordeal.
The King and the Soldier.
Federiek of Prussia had a great
mania for enlisting gigantic soldiers
into the Royal Guards, and paid an
enormous bounty to his recruting
officers for getting them. One day
the recruiting sergeant chanced to
espy an Hibemiarnwho was at least
seven feet high; he accosted him in
English, and proposed that he should
enlist. The idea of military life and
the large bounty so delighted Patrick
that he immediately consented. ,
“But, unless you cam speak Ger
man, the king will not give you so
much.”
“Oh!” said the Irishman, “sure
it’s I that don’t know a word of Ger
man.”
“But,” said the sergeant, “three
words will be sufficient,, and these
you can learn in a short time. The
king knows every man in the
guards. As soon as he sees you, he
will ride up and ask you how old.you
are; you will say, “Twenty-seven
next, how long have you been in the
service: you must reply, “Three
weeksfinally, if you are provided
with clothes and rations; you an
swer “Both.’ ”
Pat soon learned to pronounce his
answers, but never dreamed of learn
ing the questions. In three weeks
he appeared before the king in re
view. His Majesty rode up to him,
Paddy stepped forward with “pre
sent arms.”
“How old are you?” said the king.
“Three weeks.” said the Irishman.
“How long have you been in the
service?” asked his majesty.
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Am I or you a blockhead?”
roared the king.
“Both,” replied Patrick, who was
instantly taken to the guard-room,
but pardoned by the king after he
understood the fact of the case.
The newspapers talk of the gigan
tic railroad power, and of the enor
mous railroad monopoly, but when
we come to examine figures it will,,
be seen that it id not easy to speak
in exaggerated terms of the railroad
influence. It is truly gigantic. The
corporations whose lines stretch for
60,000 miles, the cost of which is
more than $3,000,000,000, are an
army of giants. Their total receipts
last year were $110,000,000. These
are the astonishing statements of a
work on the Railroads of the United
States, which has just made its ap
pearance.
Whisky.—It is said that one hun
dred and thirty thousand places are
licensed to sell spirituous liquors.
Three hundred and ninety thousand
persons are employed in these grog,
shops. If we add to them the num
ber employed in distilleries and whole
sale liquor shops, we shall have at
least 570,000 persons employed in
sending their fellow-mortals to pre
mature graves. In the National
Beer Congress, at their ninth annual
sessiog, at Newark, N. J., in 1869,
the President presented statistics
showing the whole amount of capital
employed, directly and indirectly, in
the manufacture of beer to be $105,-
000,000, giving employment to 56,-
663 men. Crime is mostly caused
by drunkenness. Criminals cost
America $40,000,000 per year. The
liquor traffic annually sends to prison
100,000 persons, reduces 2,000,000
children to a state worse than or
phanage, sends 60,000 anually to
drunkards’ graves, and makes 60,-
000 drunkards. The people of Ameri
ca, according to the report of Com
missioner Wells, swallowed from the
counters of retail grog shops in one
year, poison liquor to the amount of
$1,573,481,856. This terrible busi
ness aginst the laws of God and man
is rapidly increasing, and loudly calls
for some measure of protection.
Sowing not in Vain.—Henry Ward
Beecher has the following on the
subject of sowing where there seems
no prospect of reaping any profit in
return. He says:
“A mother has, perhaps, the hard
est lot of anybody. Her life is one
perpetual emptying of herself of her
own convenience in behalf of her
little child, that for many years can
return nothing, and can never make
any adequate return, for her care of
it. There is no other instance of
such spontaneous and thorough emp
tying of one’s own nature for another
that we know of in this life. A^rl
yet no mother worthy of the name,
ever gave herself thoroughly for her
child who did not feel that, after all,
she reaped what she had sown. No
person was ever called to suffer for
a principle, and suffered manfully,
that he was not himself conscious
that he was a victor. When your
name is cast out, and trodden under
the feet of men; when you are count
ed as the offscourihg of the earth
for faithfulness to duty, do you not
experience a peculiar joy ? Can you
not, then, understand what the apos
tle meant when he said, “My breth
ren, count it all joy when you fall into
divers temptation ?”
Diligence.—We find*in Scripture
that most of the appearances which,
were made to eminent saints were
made when they were busy. Moses,
kept his father’s flock when he saw
the borning bush-; Joshua is going ;
round about the city of Jericho when
he meets the Angel of the Lord?
Jacob is in prayer, and the angel of
God appears unto him; Gideon is
threshing and Elisha is plowing,
when the Lord cdflsthem; Matthew
is at the receipt of custom, when.he _
is bidden to follow Jesus; and James
and John are fishing. The Almighty
Lover of the souls of men is not
wont to manifest himself to idle per
sons. He who is slothful and inac
tive can not expect to
company of his Saviour.
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