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I Y- YOL. SANDERSYTLLE, GEORGIA, AUGUST 22, 1873. NO. 8. , M. G. MEDLOCK. JETHRO AI’.LINE. R. L. RODGEBS. g»y .vicdloclt, Irlinc ARodgcrs. The Herald is published in Sandersville, frt.. every Friday morning. Subscription price TWO DOLLARS per annum. Advertisements inserted at the usual rates. No charge for publishing marriages or j deaths. ° ' I POETRY. At the Garden Gate* Somebody came to the garden gate, While a soft, hand trimmed the flowers; And a blackbird piped to his listc-niug mate In a language as rioh as ours. Somebody blushed at the garden gate— A blush that was fair to see: And the sly sun peered as he fain would wait. And the blackbird paused on the tree. j Somebody spoke at the garden gate, ! As the shadows began to fall; i And the rose looked up, though the hour was ; late, ! And the peach blushed pink on the wall. • A sweet head fell at the garden gate On an arm that was strong and true; » And a chirrup of lips were heard to state ' What words refused to do. SELECT MISCELLANY. finger. A great many sensible ivo- men have married men solely because feme other woman wanted to mar- by them, just to show r the superior power of their attractions ; but Isa- r el would not go quite so far as that. She might be a little vain,—it would have been singular if she had not been, flattered as she had been,— but she was not heartless. The cherries were ripe on the tall trees in the front yard. The gilds went into ecstaeies over them. On ly they were up so high that they were “sour grapes.” “If we could only get some of them!” cried Maud Ilsley. “Do go up, Mr. Heminway % I wish I were* across, and put her down just as the UNCLE NED'S HIRED MAN. BY CLARA AUGUSTA. Pshaw, Aunt Hattie! Don’t talk to me of the refinement of a farmer. Uncle Edward was bred a lawyer, and it is unfair to instance him to support your argument, that, as a class, farmers have as much refine ment as any other.” “All true refinement, my dear Isa- j bel, is inborn, and does not spring i from outward influences. You will j change your mind yet. I expect to t live to see you the wife of a farmer.” j “Don’t, aunt! It is too preposter- j ous! I am sure I should rather die!” j “Oh, fiddlestick, Isa!” said Uncle Ned. “I am of your aunt’s opinion. I can show you some as fine speci mens of manhood who follow the plough as you can show me iu any other business. Now I hired a man yesterday-to help me through haying, as handsome as Apollo, and a great deal more sensible. Shall I intro duce you to him ? His name is Duke Hillary,and his hair curls like Cupid’s. Shall I have the pleasure of present ing him to my niece, the belle and beauty, Miss Isabel Leslie?” and Uncle” Ned made a mocking bow. Isabel’s lips curled proudly. “If I did not know you were jok ing, I should feel insulted. Intro duce me to a clod-hopper, indeed!” “This is no clod-hopper, Belle, but a gentleman of intelligence. Look here, mother; Hillary says the east meadow might be made to cut double the hay it does now, by under- draining and subsoiling.” And then followed a long disser tation on top-dressing and fall mulch ing and erossplo.ughing, in the midst of which, Isabel fled from the room in disgust, to the cool piazza. The hired men were grinding their scythes at the grindstone under the apple- tree. She would not look at them ; j of course she could feel no interest t in a gang of dirty workmen. One | of them, a tall, curly-haired young j fellow, with frank blue eyes, and i clear ruddy complexion, was wbistl- I ing “Annie Lawrie,” and he did not j stop when Isabel came out on the ; piazza. She was looking her best, in a very i recherche toilet of pink muslin and | ribbons ; but this “clod-hopper” had, j evidently, no eye for recherche toilets, j He went on turning the grindstone, and whistling, apparently totally in different that such a person as Miss Isabel Leslie was within a hundred miles of him. He finished his work, and went past her into the kitchen | for a drink of water, went past, so ! near he almost touched her, and ' never stopped whistling, and never ; glanced up. Isabel walked away with a gesture j of haughty scorn. Of course she did not care for the notice of this rustic clown ; but she had been so accustomed all her life to receiving admiration, that she hardly knew how to behave when one manifested an indifference like young Hillary’s. She kept thinking about his rude ness all the afternoon. He was an_ insolent, conceited thing, she said to herself; she wished Uncle Ned could see him as she saw him. He’d get dismissed before sundown, she was sure. And then she run her crochet needle into her finger, and it hurt her so that she tossed the white kitten away with her foot, and push ed off Towzer when he came to lay his nose on her knee. All because Duke Hillary did not stop whistling when she thought he ought to. That night* a party of friends came out from the village, which was al- •most a city. Among them Mark Heminway,” Isabel’s most devoted admirer. Mark was young, stylish, andj being wealthy, was considered a “great catch.” lie was something of a dandy, and in her heart Isabel despised him; but the other Mrls were all trying to win him, and°she rather enjoyed showing them that she could twist him round her little a squirrel for about twenty minutes.” “They can be reached with a lad der,” said Isabel. “The boys had one here this morning. It is there by tlie fence now. Cannot you get us some, Mr. Heminway ?” “Indeed, you must excuse me, la dies,” said Mark nervously. “It is so far up, aud my head might get dizzy. And if oue should fall, it might be likely to injure him.” “So it would,” said Isabel sarcas tically. “Of course, we don’t want you to expose yourself, Mr. Hemin way. Not for the world. We never should survive it if you came to harm through attempting to cater to our silly appetites.” Duke Hillary was coming up the path, self-possessed, and indifferent as ever, swinging his straw hat in his hand, and whistling. “Look here, fellah !” cried Hemin way. “You get us some cherries, will you ? The ladies are positively dying for some.” Duke surveyed him coolly, and ran an indifferent eye over the la dies. “There’s a ladder. Why don’t you get them yourself ?” he asked, evidently enjoying the dandy’s help lessness. “I get them, indeed! I am not used to climbing trees like you country fellahs, and I wouldn’t like to run the risk of breaking my neck. I’ll give you a quarter if you’ll get us some,” A red flush leaped to Duke’s face. He seized the basket from Isabel’s hand, and went up the tree like a cat. He gathered the basket full, and laid them at the feet of Maucl with a graceful bow. Mark fumbled in his pocket for the promised quar ter, but something he saw in Duke’s face restrained him from offering it. He thanked him instead. Maud smiled and blushed at his preference. Isabel felt irritated, she hardly knew with whom. She would not eat any of the cherries. She was afraid they would disagree with her, she said, telling a little white lie for appearance’s sake. She knew Duke Hillary was sitting on the doorstep not a rod off, and lie should not see her eating cherries he had picked. She hated him, she said to herself, with her whole soul. Two or three days passed on, and Isabel grew more and more bitter to wards Duke. He not only did not notice her, but he had twice won Towzer away from her when she was patting the dogs head; and Spot, flie kitten, would leave her any time when Duke came in. Besides, he brought home such a beautiful clus ter of golden-hearted water-lilies, just what she had been pining for, and gave them to Aunt Hattie. Af ter that, she would not look at them, or inhale their fragrance. The odor was too strong for her, she said. The next day, Isabel went across the river in search of blackberries. The stream was not very wide, and was crossed just below the east mea dow by a narrow foot-board. Isabel enjoyed the day finely, and did not think of going home until the distant rumble of thunder warn ed her that a storm was approaching. She had a mortal terror of a thunder shower, and forgetting how very in- dignified a lady looked running, she set off for the river at the top of her speed. "When she arrived there, she found to her unutterable dismay that the foot-board was gone! “Oh, dear! dear! What shall I do ?” she cried aloud, as a peal of thunder much nearer than the first burst in the air. “Do you want to come across?” asked a pleasant voice, and looking over she saw Duke Hillary on the opposite side. He had just finished his swarth, and was picking up his jacket to go home. Her face flushed; she would not have answered him, but a blinding flash of lightning made her forget pride in fear. “Yes, I do,” she said, “but the foot-board is gone.” - “So I perceive,” he returned, a slight smile curving his handsome mouth,—“but I will take you across.” He stepped into the water, and came to her side. She drew back haughtily. It was a little too much, to have this plebeian farmer touch her. Duke read her aright. He turned to the river. “Very well, just as you like. I am going up to the house, after I get the cows, and I will speak to your uncle about your situation. He will probably send some one down for you.” The insufferable fellow ! He was going off as though a lady’s staying out through a thundei’-shower was of no consequence in the world. A blind ing flash over her head decided Isa bel. She held out her hands to him, hating herself at the same time for making such a concesssion. “I will suffer you to take me over,” she said coldly. k. “Not unless you wish it,’’-said Mr. Duke Hillary, quite as coldly. “I do wish it,” she said. “I shall be very grateful to you.” He lifted her carefully, took her rain began to fall in torrents. Isa bel shuddered ; her thin clothing was drenched through in a m omen t. Duke was not a cruel fellow, and he was naturally chivalrous. Ho put his jacket around her, and drew her under the shelter of some wide- spreading beeches, still keeping his arm around her. “It is impossible to get to the house,” he said, “and we must make the best of it. Stand on this side of ine; the storm comes from the west, I think. There, do not be frightened—it will soon be over.” Here a crash of thunder close at hand so terrified Isabel that she clung to him, forgetting that he was a clod hopper, and that she hated him. Duke did not release the little soft hand she had put into his; some- j how, he liked to hold it, and she was ' so frightened. The rain did not last long, and j when the thunder got distant, Isabel 1 began to realize that she had made I a very pretty fool of herself for Mr. ] Duke Hillary to laugh at. She broke away from him abrupt- j ly, aud without a word started oft' ■ through the wet grass for her aunt’s j house. Duke looked after her, a i quizzical smile on his face, and be- t gan to wliistle. Isabel heard him, i and her cheeks burned like coals, j He was positively insulting ! and she ! resolved never to speak to him as j long as she lived, and to hate him ! more deeply than ever. She should only stay two weeks longer at the i farm-house, and then she should! never see or hear from him again. Aunt Hattie met her at the door I with a score of anxious inquiries, j Where had she been? Was she wet? : Where did she getshelter? and where ! could Duke Hillary be ? The other i men came up long ago; had Isabel ; seen Duke? Isabel replied pettish- | ly, that she supposed he was about ' his business, if he had any ; and j Aunt Hattie sighed to think she could ' not bring about a more amicable i state of things between lier favorite i Duke and her favorite niece. The days came and went, and it ! was the first of September. Isabel ! was to return home in a week. Her ' stay had been prolonged by Aunt j Hattie’s entreaties, but her mother i refused to let her remain any longer. 1 She was still hating Duke with all • her heart. Aud he was as supreme- ■ ly indifferent to it as the Grand ' Mogul. Only once had he offered ; her any courtesy. Ho brought in a 1 superb branch of cardinal flower one } night, and gave it to her. ' “Scarlet flowers look well in black ; hair,” he said, smiling, with a glance i at her jetty braids. She colored hotly, flung the flower , on the floor, and trampled on it. I She had read presumption in his : eyes, she thought, and that she • would not bear. He looked at her unmoved, though his heart beat a little quicker, and then went off whistling as usual; and after he was gone,—such is the inconsistency of some women—Isabel picked up the crushed flower, aud put it in her bosom. Uncle Ned owned two spirited horses, which Isabel had been teas ing to be allowed to drive. It was rather a hazardous proceeding, and it was a long time before she gained bis consent. But she conquered at last, and Duke was ordered to liar- , ness them to the carriage. Isabel, > equipped for the drive, came out, I just as he had adjusted the last j buckle. _ j “Miss Leslie,” he said, obeying his sense of duty, “Dick is very refrac tory this morning, and I would ad vise you to postpone your drive, or take some one with you.” She stopped into the carriage, re sisting his offered assistance, and gathered up the lines. She was looking splendidly, and she knew it. “Thank you, Mr. Hillary. When I want advice, I ask for it.” She started Dick with the whip, and the animal bounded off. Hillary stood a moment medita ting; then ho went to the stable, and suddenly mounting Comet, the blood horse, which was Uncle Ned’s especial pride, took a road running parallel with the one Isabel had ta ken. Two or three miles farther oi the roads joined, just above a preci pitous piece of causeway, severa feet above the river. He reache., this dangerous place bofore Isab( did; for in the distance he heard th rumble of her carriage-wheels. H threw himself off Comet and stor. awaiting her. Some subtle instinct told him that she would need him when she did come. ’ We have all felt such premonition!; can any of us account for them ? j She came in sight around an angle of the road. Duke saw at a glance that Dick was runnikg away with her. She maintained - her presence of mind, and held the Veins in a firm hand; but her slight strength was no check upon those. two strong headed horses. At that time Dick plunged sud denly out of the road; the wheels struck a stone, the carriage was over turned, and Duke was just in time to catch Isabel as shb was being hurled upon the stone]. But not in time to save himself o:,her from go ing over the precioicA Down they went with fearful velocity, alighting at last in a bed of juniperbushes, which broke somewhat the force of For a moment Isabel was | well than to plead law poorly. Be honest : a stove cold is better than a stove hot with stolen fuel. The laboring man holds the same relation to the merchant, manufac turer, attorney, physician and min ister, that the locomotive does to a train of elegant and well-filled cars : they would stand still for ever if the engine did not move them. There is many an honest, hard working poor man, who rises himself and calls his family before sunrise, the fall. stunned, then she roused herself, and looked around. Duke lay beside her, as pale as death, the blood oozing slowly from a cut in his temple. She grew white as marble. In that one moment of horror she realized what life would be to her without Duke Hillary. She bent over him, lifted up his head, and pressed wild passionate kisses on his pale lips. “O Duke! Duke!” she cried, “I have killed you! and Ilovedyou so!” His eyes flashed wide open, his arms enfolded her; two strong, ex acting, despotic arms they were. She struggled, but he held her fast. “Isabel, I love you so, too! Those kisses were sweet, but you had it all your own way; it is my turn now. Be quiet, darling ; it is too late to af fect colduess. I love you; you love me.” “But I tried hard to hate you.” “I know you did, dear ; I give you credit for doing your best. But you couldn’t, and so you were not to blame.” Isabel went home, leaning on Duke Hillary’s arm, while Comet, in a very meditative mood, followed be hind. But it was not until after she had been some time his wife, that Isabel found out that she had married a wealthy man, and that he had only been masquerading while acting as Uucle Ned’s hired help. And Aunt Hattie was in the secret all the time. The Oldest City. Damascus is the oldest city in the world. Tyre and Sidon have crum bled on the shore. Baalbec is a ruin, Palmyra is buried in a desert; Nine- vah and Babylon have disappeared from the Tigris and the Euphrates. Damascus remains what it was be fore the days of Abraham—a center of trade and travel—an island of verdure in the desert; a presidential capital, with martial and sacred as sociations extending through thirty centuries. It was near Damascus that Saul of Tarsus saw the light above the brightness of the sun; the street, which is called Strait, in which it was said he prayed, still runs through the city. The caravan comes and goes as it did a thousand yeai’s ago; there is still the sheik, "the ass, and the water-wheel; the merchants of the Euphrates and the Mediterranean still occupy these with the multitude of their w r ares. The city which Mohammed survey ed from a neighboring height and was afraid to enter as it was given to man to have but one paradise, and for his part he was resolved not to have it in this world, is to-day what Snliau called the eye of the East, as it was in the time of Isaiah, the head of Syria. It is still a city of flowers; the streams of Lebanon and the silk of gold still murmur and sparkle in the wilderness of the Syr ian gardens. Maxims for Working Men. A good advertisement for a work ing man is a seat in church. The savings-bank is a safe debtor. Ffty cents for a good lecture is better than half that sum for a cir cus. Dress neatly. A well-clothed man commands favor and respect, while one in slovenly attire can hardly bor row his neighbor’s saw-horse. If you wish to personally compre hend the completest meaning of the old adage, a fool and his money are soon parted, buy a lottery ticket. Never sacrifice money for what people will say. It is better to buy a fair piece of beef at fifteen cents a pound, and leave the sirloin for some other man who would buy your kind except for the name. The man is always most honored who is most excellent in what he un dertakes. It is better to saw wood Family Recipes. 1.—Fob Repairing Family Jars.— Mutual Love well stirred with For bearance, mixed with Readiness to Forgive, and general Good Temper is an admirable cement. It is well to let all family jars be shelved at once. 2.—Preserving. Temper is best kept by using as j little vinegar as possible. The Heart/ by using abundantly of the Oil of Grace. Treasures, by laying them up where neither moth nor rust dotJi corrupt. 3.—Creams. The milk of True Faith, if it stands long enough, yields the'crreauibf as surance ; if flavored with the Essence of Love, it is a delicious dish. How good aud beautiful would it be, if our tastes, impulses and inclin ations were so pure that we might live freely and naturally, as the birds or the flowers, trusting without mis giving to our spontaneous sympathies and movements. “Among all my boys,” said an old man, “I never had but one boy who took after me, and that was my son Aaron, who took after me with a pole.’ Early Marriages. There is no school which God ev er opened, or permitted to be open ed, which young people can so ill af ford to avoid as the school of care and responsibility and labor in the honsehold ; and a young man and a young woman, marrying, no matter from what source they came togeth er, no matter how high their fathers have stood, one of the most whole some things they can do, having married for love, and with discretion, is to be willing to begin at the bot tom, and bear the burdens of house hold life so that they shall have its education. I tell you, there are pleasures which many young married people miss. I would not give up the first two years of my married life for all I have now. I live in a big house, with a brown stone front, and very fairly furnished ; but after all, among the choicest experiences of my life were those that I passed through in Indiana, when I hired two chambers up stairs; when all my furniture was given to me, and was second hand at that; and when the very clothes which I had on my ‘ ack had been worn by Judge Bir- ey before me. We were not able to hire a servant. We had to serve ourselves. It was a study every day how to get along with our small means—and it was a study never to be forgotten. I owe many of the pleasures which have run through my life to being willing to begin where I had to begin, and to fight poverty with love, and to overcome it, and to learn how to live in ser vice and helpfulness and in all the thousand ingenuities which love sweetens and makes more and more delightful.—H. IF. Beecher. j 4-r How Old Joe became Beautiful. Poor old Joe was an ugly old man, indeed, nearly everybody called him “Ugly Joe.” The old people used him as a kind of a scare-crow for their children, so that the poor little things ran off whenever he came near. But this was a great pity, for poor old Joe was as harmless as they were, and dearly loved little children. Often he tried to coax them to him, but they would have nothing to do with the poor old man. So one day he went up to the graveyard, and there, off by itself, he found a neg lected little grave, with no little stone to tell who lay beneath, and over grown with weeds. Carefully old Joe pulled up every weed, then sod ded the little grave with fresh, green grass, and brought sweet wild flowers and planted them upon it. Every day he spent much time upon it, till he seemed to love that little grave ; and one morning he was found lying close beside it, with his arms stretch ed out above it, cold and dead; for poor old Joe had gone where there would be many to love him, and they buried his body close beside the lit tle grave he had loved. A day or so after old Joe was buried, a lady and gentleman came to the village. They were the parents of the child who slept beneath the lit tle grave. They had left the village some years before, too poor to buy a three hundred and sixty-five daviy little tombstone to place above their in the year. In nine cases out of ’ - x 1 1 - ten, when his children arrive at his age, they will be called up by ser vants. A meerschaum-pipe and bank book always quarrel, and the upshot of the encounter generally is, that one puts the other out of doors. Work harder at drilling rocks, for instance, if your employer never vis its you than if he frequently does. He* will know of your faithfulness when he pays for the drills. The poverty of childhood is more frequently than otherwise the step ping-stone to wealth. It is better to eat one meal a day and pay for it, than to eat three and have two of them charged. The larger your account with Trust the sooner Debt will take your bus iness into liis hands. It costs a poor man more to let his children wander iu their every day clothing, Sabbath days, than it does to dress them for church. Want is a far less uncomfortable companion than debt. Never envy a rich neighbor ; his boys will drive your children’s car riages. A poor man’s character is worth two dollars to him where his hands are worth one. A full purse and a brandy bottle rarely occupy opposite pockets in the same coat. Never dodga a dirty job. The richest deposits of gold are frequent- lv overlaid by the debris.—Christian Weekly. Hope is the ruddy morning ray of joy, recollection is its golden tinge; but the latter is wont to sink amid the dews and dusky shades of twi light ; and the bright blue day which the former promises, breaks indeed, but in another world, and with an other sun. Who ever brings the tales of others to you, will be sure to carry tales of you to them. child’s grave, but had now come wealthy. They were surprised when they saw the little grave so well taken care of, and the mother wept when she heard the story of old Joe. And over his grave they placed a beauti ful monument, with these words en graved upon it: “He will beautify the meek with salvation.” And in the resurrection day may we all be as beautiful as old Joe will be.—Our Paper. The Value of a Newspaper. The following is the experience of a mechanic concerning the benefit of a newspaper: Ten years ago I lived in a town in Indiana. On returning home one night, for I am a carpenter by trade, I saw a little girl leave my door, and I asked my wife who she was. She said, Mrs. Hams had sent her after their newspaper ; which my wife had borrowed. As we sat down to tea my wife said to me by name : “I wish you would subscribe for the newspaper ; it is much comfort to -me when you are away from home.” “I would like to do so, said I, but you know I owe a payment on the house and lot. It will be all I can do to meet it.” She replied; “if you will take this paper, I will sew for the tailor to pay for it.” I subscribed for the paper; it came in due time to the shop. While resting one noon and looking over it, I saw an advertisement of the coun ty Commissioners to let a bridge that was to be built. I put in a bid for the bridge and the job was awar ded to me, on which I cleared $300, which enabled me to pay for my house and lot easily, and for the newspaper. If I had not subscribed for the news paper I should not have known any thing about the contract, and could not have met my payment on my house an lot. A mechanic never loses anything by taking a newspa per. • The Masonic Grand Lodge Build ing.—The new Temple designed for the accommodation of the Masonic Grand Lodge of Georgia, and which has been in process of erection for nearly two years, is nearly comple ted. Located on Mulberry street with a frontage of seventy feet, and height of stories fully sixty feet, it is imposing. The first floor now occupied for mercantile purposes is fifteen, the second, intended for gen eral public business, or a Town Hall, is twenty, and the third for the meet ings of the Grand Lodge, is sixteen feet high. The round cost of the building, including the grounds, will be $62,000. It will take one thou sand yards of carpet to cover the main floor of the Lodge Room, which will cost $2,500. The chan deliers, chairs, and other necessary articles, will run the items of furni ture and fixtures to about $5,000 in all. Before the whole thing i> fin ished, the round cost will not fall short of $75,000. But the “Brothers of the Mystic Tie” will have the sat isfaction of knowing that their Lodge is the finest and most impos ing in all the South.—Atlanta Con stitution. Pocket Edition of Hell Fire. A young parson of the Universal- ist faith, many years since when the Simonpure ISniversalism was preached, started westward to attend a convention of his brethren in faith. He took the precaution to carry a. vial of cayenne pepper in his pocket to sprinkle his food with, as a pre ventive of fever and ague. The con vention met, and at dinner a tall Hoosier observed the parson as he seasoned his meat, and addressed him thus: “Stranger, I’ll thank you for a lit- tel of that ’ere red salt, for I’m kind o’ curious to try it/’ “Certainly,” returned the parson; “but you will find it rather powerful; be careful how you use it.” The Hoosier took the proffered vial and feeling himsef proof against any quantity of raw whisky, thought he could stand the “red salt,” with impunity, and accordingly sprinkled a junk of beef rather bountifully with it, and forthwith introduced it into his capacious mouth. It soon be gan to take hold. He shut his eyes, and his features began to writhe, denoting a very inharmonious con dition physically. Finally he could stand it no longer. He opened his month and screamed—“fire!” “Take a drink of cold water from the jug,” said the parson. “"Will that put it out?” said the martyr, suiting the action to the word. In a short time the unfortunate man began to recover, and returning to the parson, his eyes yet swimming with water, exclaimed: “Stranger, you call yourself a ’Versalist, I believe ?” “I do,” mildly answered the par son. “Well, I want to know if you think it consistent with your belief to go about with hell fire in your breeches pocket?” ABlusli. What is there more mysterious than a blush, that a single w r ord or look or thought should send that in imitable carnation over the cheek like the soft tints of the summer sun set? Strauge it is, also, that the human face is capable of blushing, that the hand or foot does not turn red with modesty or shame any more than the glove or sock that covers them. It is the face that is heaven. The blush of modesty that tinted woman’s face when she awoke in Eden’s sunny land still lingers with her fair daughters. They caught it from the rose, for all roses were first white; but when Eve plucked one, the bud seeing her own fair face —more fair than the flowers-blushed and cast its reflex on her velvet cheek. The face is the tablet of the soul, wherein it writes its actions. There may be traced all the intellectual phenomena with a confidence amount ing to a moral certainty. If inno cence and purity look outward from within, none the less do vice, intem perance and debauchery make their indelible impression upon it. Idiocy, rage, cowardice and passion leave their traces deeper, even, than the virtues of modesty, truth, chastity and hope. Even beauty glows more beautiful from the pure thoughts that arise within it. A Rustic Moralist.—Rector (go ing his rounds)—“An uncommonly fine pig, Mr. Dibbles, I declare !” Contemplative Y i l l a g e r—“Ah ves, sir, if we was only, all of us, as fit to die as him, sir !” There is a good deal of sound wis dom in the suggestion of the farmer: “If you want your boy to stay at borne, don’t bear too hard on the grindstone when be tarns the crank.” Balky Horse.—Above all things, don’t whip your horse. If of a ner vous, high-lifed nature, be kind to him, yet prompt. Let him know, as soon as you can, what you require of him. Never take him out of his position except by doing as you re quire. Be patient; stay by him ; / keep every one else away. Never lead him; sit patiently; sing or whistle, as though nothing were the matter, and your horse will seem, as it were, to be ashamed of himself, and improve, and finally forget for ever, the tricks some dunce has taught him.— Wm. Horne, V. 8., 31. A school-boy being requested to write a composition upon the subject of pins, produced the following: “Pins are very useful. They have save the lives of a great many men, women, and children—in fact, whole families.’ “How so ?” asked the puz zled teacher. And the boy replied, i“Why, by not swallowing them.” ' Thismatelies the story of the oth er hpy who defined salt as “the stuff that makes potatoes taste bad, when you don’t put on an}’.” Beautifcl Sentiment.—One pound of gold may be drawn into a wire that would extend around the globe. So one good deed may be felt through all time, and cast its influ ence into eternity. Though done in the first flush of youth, it may glad den the last of a life, and form the brightest and most glorious spot on it, _ A little girl seeing a hen about to j brood her chickens, cried out: “O!! don’t sit down on those beautiful | little birds, you great ugly old roos ter.” How to make a tall man sbort- Ask him to loud you five dollars.