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OL. II. SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, SEPTEMBER 12, 1873. NO. 11. L Gc. MEDBOCK. JETHXiO AHLINE. B, L- EODGEBS. k- TSi‘d!oek, ArSame AESodgcrs. ■rgv Herald is published in Sandersville, L-vjrv 1'riday morning. Subscription TWO DOLLARS per annum. Iilveriisements inserted at the usual rates, charge for publishing marriages or POETRY. The River Time. BY B. F. TAYLOB. wond> rful stream is the Iiiver of Time ! 1 it flov.-s through lire realm of tears ; :'i a fanldcsr ryt'i::; and a in Joical ruyine, j broadening swoop and a surge sublime, ■ , it bends with the ocean of years. j v the winters are drifting like flakes of snow ! And the summers like buds between ; i. i the ears and the sheaves,how they come and go, )n fan river’s breast, with its ebb and flow, As they glide in the shadow and sheen. ’here's a magic isle up the River Time, ■Where the softest of airs are playing; ' s a cloudless sky and a tropical clime, nd a voice as sweet as a vesper chime, f And the Junes with the roses are staying ; gul the name of that isle is the “Long Ago,” And we bury our teasures there ; ;here are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow, here are heaps of dust, but we loved them so, There are trinkets and tresses of hair. here are fragments of song thatnobody sings And a part of an infant’s prayer ; ihere’s a harp unswept and a lute without strings, There are broken vows and pieces of rings, And the garments she used to "wear. There are hands which are waved when that fairy shore By the mirage is lifted in air, And sometimes we hear, through the turbu lent roar, Sn eet voices we’ve heard in the days gone before, When the wind down the river is fair. Oh, remember for aye be that blessed isle, All the day of life till night; And when evening comes with a beautiful smile, And our eyes are closed in slumber awhile, May that greenwood Of soul be in sight! SELECT MISCELLANY. AN UNWELCOME PASSENGER. THE TEDDLEB’S STORY. A cold winter s niglit several years dice, found a stage load of passen- ;ers gathered together around the warm fire of a tavern bar-room in a New England village. Shortly af ter we arrived, a peddler drove up and ordered that his horse should be stabled for the night. After we had eaten supper we repaired to the bar-room, where the conversation flowed freely. Several anecdotes had been related, and finally the peddler was called on to give us a story, as men of his profession are generally full of adventures and anecdotes. He was a short, thick-set man, some where about forty years of age, and gave evidence of great physical strength. He gave his name as Lemuel Yinney, and his home was in Dover, N. H. “Weil, gentlemen,” he commenced, knocking the ashes from his pipe and putting it into his pocket, “sup pose I tell you about the last thing of any consequence that happened to me. You see I am now right from the West, and on my way home for winter quarters: It was during the early part of last spring, one pleas ant evening, that I pulled up in front of the door of a small village tavern in Hancock county, Indiana. I said it was pleasant—I meant warm. I went in and called for supper, and liad my horse taken care of. After I had eaten I sat down in the bar room. It began to rain about eight o’clock, and it was very dark out of doors. “Now I wanted to be in Jackson next morning, for I expected a load of goods there for me, which I in tended to dispose of on my way home. The moon would rise about midnight, and I knew if it did not rain 1 could get along through the mucl after that. So I asked the landloidif he would see that my horse was fed about midnight, as I wished to get off about tw r o. He ex pressed some surprise at this, and asked me why I did not stop for breakfast. I told him I sold my last load about out, and that a new lot of goods was waiting for me at Jack son, and I wanted to get there be fore the express agent left in the moring. “There were a number of persons sitting round while I told this, but I took little notice- of them. Only one arrested my attention. I had seen notices that week for the detection of a notorious robber. The bills gave a discription of his person, and the man before me answered very well to it.—He was a tali, well-formed man, rather slight framed, and had the appearance of a gentleman, save that his face bore those hard, cruel marks which an observing man can not mistake for but the index of a villainous disposition. “When I went to my bed-chamber I asked the landlord who that man was, describing the individual. He said that he did not know him ; he had come that afternoon, and intend ed to leave the next day. The host asked me why I wished to know, and if. I was acquainted with him. “I resolved not to let the landlord into the secret, bat to hurry on to Jackson, and there give information to the Sheriff, and perhaps he might reach the inn before the villain left, for I had no doubt of his identity. “I had an alarm watch, and having set it to give the alarm at one o’clock, I Went to sleep. I was aroused at the proper time, and dressed my self. When I reached the yard I found the clouds passed away, and the moon was shining brightly. The hostler was easily aroused, and by two o’clock I Avas on the road. The mud was deep, and my horse could not travel very fast. However, on we went, and in the course of half an hour I was clear from the village. At a short distance ahead lay a large tract of pine forest. The road lay direct through this wood, and, as near as I can remember, the distance •was 12 miles. Yet the moon was in the east, and as the road ran nearly west, I thought I should have light enough. “I had entered the wood and gone about half a mile, when my wagon wheels settled with a bump and jerk into a deep hole. I uttered an ex clamation of astonishment. But this was not all—I heard another exclama tion from some source. What could it mean? Hooked quietly around, but could see nothing; yet I knew the sound I heard was near me. As the hind wheels came up I heard something tumble from one side to the other of my wagon, and I could feel the jar occasioned by the move ment. It was simply a man in my cart! I knew this on the instant. Of course I felt puzzled. At first I imagined that some one had taken this method to obtain a ride. My next idea was that somebody got there to sleep; but this passed away as soon as it came, for no man would have broken into a cart for that purpose.—And that thought gentle men, opened my eyes. Who ever was there had broken in. My next thought was of the suspicious in dividual I had seen at the tavern. He heard me say that my load was all sold out, and of course he supposed that I had seme money with me. In this he was right, for I had over two thousand dollars. I thought he meant to leave the cart Avhen he supposed I liad reached a safe place, and then creep over and shoot me, or knock me down. All this passed through my mind by the time I had got arod from the hole. In a few moments my resolution was formed. My horse was knee deep in mud, and could slip off with out noise. So I dreiv my pistol, and having twined the reins about the whip stock, carefully slipped down in the mud, and as the cart passed on I went behind and examined the hasp. The outer door of the cart lets down, and is fastened by a hasp which slips over the staple, and is then secured by a padlock. The padlock was gone, and the hasp was secured in its place by a bit of pine, so that a slight force from within could break it. My wheel wrench stood in a leather backet on the side of the cart, and I quickly took it out and slipped it in the staple, the iron handle just sliding down. “Now I had him ! My cart was almost new, made of a stout frame of white oak, and made on purpose for hard usage. I did not believe any ordinary man could get out. I got into my cart as noiselessly as I got off, and then urged my horse on, still keeping my pistol handy. I knew that a distance of half a mile or further I should come to a hard road, and so I allowed my horse to pick his own way through the mud. “About ten minutes after this I heard a motion in the cart, followed by a grinding noise, as though some heavy force was being applied to the door. I said nothing, but the idea struck me that the villain might judge where I sat and shoot up through the top of the cart at me ; so I sat on the foot-board. “Of course I knew my unexpected E assenger was a villian, for he must ave been awake ever since I start ed, and nothing in the world but ab solute villainy would have caused him to remain quiet so long, and then start up in this particular place. The thumping and pushing grew louder, and pretty soon I heard a human voice. “‘Let me out of this!’ and he yelled pretty loud. “I lifted my head so as to make him think I was in my usual place, and then asked him what he was doing there. U me ou t and I will tell you,’ he replied. . “ ‘Tell me what you are in there for,’ I said. “ ‘I got in here to sleep on rags/ he answered. “ ‘How did you get in?’ I asked. “ ‘Let me out, or I’ll shoot you through the head!’ “At that moment my horse’s feet struck the hard road, and I knew that the rest of the route to Jackson would be good going, the distanc was twelve miles. I slipped back on the foot-board and took the whip. In fifteen minutes we cleared the woods, and we went at a keen jump, the chap inside yelling to be let out. Finally he stopped, and in a few minutes came the report of a pis tol -—one—two—three—four—one right after the other, and heard the balls whiz over my head. If I had been on my seat, one of these balls, if not two of them, would have gone through me. I popped my head up and gave a yell, and then said, ‘Oh! God save me! I’m a dead man! Then I made a shuffling noise as though I was falling off, and finally settled down on the fooLboard again. I now urged up the marpHby giving her an occasional poke with the whip-stock, and she peeled it faster than ever. “The man called out to me twice more pretty soon after this, and as he got no reply, he made some tre mendous efforts to break the door open, and as this failed him he made several attempts at the top. But I had no fears of his doing anything there, for the top of the cart is framed witji dovetails, and each sleeper bolted to the posts with iron bolts. I had it made so I could car ry loads there. By-and-by, after all else had failed, the commenced to holler ‘whoa’ to the horse, and kept it up until he became hoarse. All this time I kept quiet, holding the reins firmly and kept poking the mare with the stock. We were not an hour going that dozen miles— not a bit of it. I hadn’t much fear; perhaps I might tell the truth and say I had none, for 1 had a good pistol, and more than that, my pas senger was safe; yet I was glad when I came to the flour barrel factory that stands at the edge of Jackson village, and in ten minutes more hauled up in front of the tavern, and found a couple of men in the barn cleaning down some horses. “ ‘Well old fellow,’ said I, as I got down and went to the back of the wagon, ‘you have had a good ride, haven’t you?’ “ ‘Who are you ?’ he cried; and he swore as he asked the question. “ ‘I am the man you tried to shoot,’ was my reply. “ ‘Where am I? Let me out.’ “ ‘Look here, Ave’ve come to a safe stopping place, and mind! my pis tol is ready for you the moment you show yourself. Now lay quiet.’ “By this time the hostlers had come to see what Avas the matter, and I explained the case. After this I got one of them to run and rout the Sheriff, and tell him what I believed I’d got for him. The first streaks of light were just coming, and in an hour it would be broad daylight. In less than that lime the Sheriff came, and two men with him. I told him the whole affair in a few words, and then made for the cart. He told the chap inside who he was and if he made the least resistance he’d be a dead man. I then slipped the iron Avrench out, and as I let the door down, the felloAV made a spring. I caught him by the ankle and he came do Am on his face, and the mo ment I saw the chap I recognized him. He was marched to the lock up, and I told the Sheriff I should remain in toAvn all day. “After breakfast the Sheriff came doAvn the tavern and told me that I had caught the very bird, and if I would remain until the next morn ing I should have the reAvard of two hundred dollars that had been of fered. “I found my goods all safe, paid the express agent for bringing them from Indianapolis and then went to stoAv them aAvay in my cart. The bullet holes were found in the top of the vehicle just as I expected. ^They were in a line, about five inches apart, and had I have been where I usually sit, two of them must have hit me in the small of the back, and both charges of powder were heavy ones. “I afterwards found a letter in the Post Office at Portsmouth for me, from the Sheriff of Hancock county, and he informed me that the fellow who tried to kill and rob me was in prison for life.” Wanted—A Chance.—The people who say that all they want is a chance—are you old enough to have found them out? Of all miserable souls these used to appeal most quickly to my sympathies. Of course there are plenty of genuine cases—I think I am expert enough noAv to detect them at a’glanee. But I am in clined to think that the vast majori ty of chance wanters are the peo ple most active in throwing chances aAvay. I.never saw an earnest man long in want of a chance. The trouble is. in; the man, not in the sit uation. The‘ individual of all others AA-ho has talked to me with the most persuasive pathos about the lack of fortunate, circumstances, i3 the man whom I have found, most ingenious in evading his opportunities. PAUL HAMPTON’S GOOD FORTUNE. BY E. ANDERSON. So necessary is fun to the mind, that a late philosopher says if you should build schools without play grounds, nobody would get beyond short division in a life time. “Oh, Paul! don’t you wish we were rich, like the family at Hill Lodge, and that papa could drive to toAvn every day in his carriage as Mr. Bivers does ? and there’s Juli an, too, only your age, rides a horse now—lie might have given you his little pony, it was very mean to sell it.” “Sister, let us be thankful that our fath r is able to walk, and not crip- E led like Mr. Rivers; and do you elieve that I, Avho am taller than Julian, Avould ride that little pony? A pretty figure I should cut with my longlegs almost touching the ground.’ “Ah, but sometimes I cannot help wishing Ave were rich,” and Dora Hampton sighed, as she glanced down at her faded calico dress. “Have courage and patience, little Sis; I hope soon to get a place and earn some money, then, when I grow to be a man, you are to be my little housekeeper. But here comes Juli an, riding at a full gallop down the hill; what brings him, I wonder, for we have not been very good friends of late ?” “Hallo, there!” cried Julian.— “Hold my horee while I come in for a few minutes.” Again he repeated the summons in a louder tone. “Who are you calling to, Master Rivers ?” “To you, of course: you don’t keep a groom, I guess.” “ We do not, sir, neither am I one; so when you condescend to ride doAvn into the valley, attend to your horse yourself.” Dora watched Julian as} he alight ed and tied his horse to the garden gate. He was handsomely dressed in a velvet suit, with riding gloves, and dainty, little, Avell-fitting boots ; but he looked pale and sickly, for his appetite Avas pampered with rich, imwholesome food, and he was al- loAved to sit up until all hours of the night. Then she glanced toward her brother. What a contrast! With his dark, handsome eyes, and noble brow and cheek, broAvned by expos ure to the sun; even those coarse, homemade garments looked Avell up on Lis erect figure. “I’ll never wish for riches any more,” thought Dora. “Puff,puff!” exclaimed Julian as he entered; “how smothering it is in this little room, with its low ceiling ! Oh, Dora! I did not see you in that dark corner.” “Look you, sir !” cried Paul, in dignantly, “this is my father’s dwell ing, and as such is sacred in my eyes. Stay without in future, aDd do not come here to insult us.” “Excuse me, Paul, for I really didn’t intend to offend you,” and Ju lian held out his hand. “I came to ask if you would go to toAvn with me ; I want a new riding whip, and no end of things.” “Not in the dusty highway at your horse’s heels ; but if you walk there by the meadoAv, and through the little wood, I don’t object, for I have some errands in town for mother.” “Agreed, then; may I put up my horse somewhere till we return?” “Yes, in the old barn ; there is plenty of straw and he will be quite safe there. I’ll assist you now, Juli an, and any time Avhen you treat me as your equal, and drop putting on airs.” “All right, Paul. But what shall I bring you from town, Dora ?” and Julian rattled a handful of silver dollars in his pocket. “Nothing, thank you.” Dora Hampton was not a whit less proud than her brother. The tAvo boys followed the narrow footpath through jhe meadow, tho’ almost hidden from their sight by the long, waAdng grass, Paul some times stopping to gather a feAV wild flowers, for the garden at Dale cot tage was not rich in floral ornaments. They did not wait to go round by the old bridge which spanned the little stream half a mile away, but draw ing off their shoes and stockings waded through the water, sitting awhile to rest on the other side, and planning a fishing excursion for a future day. Beyond the stream lay the little AA r ood, and there Paul gath ered the Avild honeysuckle and the delicate fern to add to his bouquet, hiding it beneath the rushes at the water’s edge until their return. The pleasant shady wood was passed, a winding lane succeeded, from whence the church spires and lofty buildings of the town were ris ible. The two companions soon reaching the suburb of the principal street, traversed it in all directions by many others. - They visited one store. Paul made the household purchases for his mother, and various others on Julian’s account, who soon disposed of all his money. “And now,” he said, I have not a red cent left.” “Precisely my case,” cried Paul, ‘Srith this difference, that I started out without any of my own. Hallo! • what’s this? Stop, stop, Jule.” The boy lifted something from be neath his feet; it was a pocket-book filled with notes, some of -high value. “How lucky!” exclaimed Julian, “just Avhen our pockets were empty. Let’s go halves on the spot, or, rath er, hurry on into the lane, and there count our treasure.” Our treasure! You had passed by, and were not the finder, neither is it mine to diride.” “I never heard such stupidness!— Do you really intend to restore that pocket-book, if inquired for? No one saw you pick it up.” Yes, One did, who sees all things ; but I shall not count the money now; my father will do that when he comes home, and keep it until we hear of the owner.” “And that owner reward you with thanks, or, perhaps, a miserj or ten dollar note.” “I shall rejoice to have earh much honestly.” The walk home was far less pleas ant to the two boys; Julian all the way coveted a share of the newly found treasure, and Paul grave and silent with the responsibility of his charge. They no longer hunted the brown squirrel, nor paused to watch the fish leaping to the surface as the sunbeam danced upon the water, nor plucked the Avild-flowers in their path—even the little bouquet was forgotten—but they hurried on to the cottage, where Julian, uttering a hasty “good-bye,” mounted his horse and rode away. Mr. Hampton held a situation as clerk in an office in the town; he always went there early, but the fol lowing morning Paul accompanied him. They bought a paper, eagerly scanning the advertisements under the head of “Lost,” and Avith a wildly beating heart, Paul read aloud, “$200 Reward,” then followed a description of the pocket-book and its contents. $200! He was breathless with ex citement. ‘This appears to be the property of OAven AVainright, one of our lead ing merchants,” said Mr. Hampton, yon shall take it to him, my boy, relating how and where you found it.” It was not long before Paul return ed, his handsome face glowing Arith pleasure. “After inquiring my name, father” said he, “and your employ ment, Mr. AVainright asked what I should do with the Teward ? I an swered give it all to my father, for he will know best how to lay it out. So here it is sir,” and Paul counted out ten $20 bills. And a real Godsend it is, Paul.” But stay—you have not heard all. Mr. AVainright seemed pleased with my answer, and taking$25 more from the pocket-book gave it to me, also, saying, “This, my honest boy, is for yourself.” He next asked my age, and oh! father, I do believe my fortune is made, for I am to come again, bringing you to with me, to morrow morning, and he promises to give me then a “post of trust” in uis warehouse; and, I met old Miss EimAvood, who once had the school- house near our cottage, and she is going with me to the drygoods store, to help me choose two pretty dresses for mother and Dora; and, dear fath er, try to get off with me after noon —we’ll go home together and have a real banquet together in honor of this good luck.” Mr. Hampton made a sign in to ken of assent, for at that moment he could not speak. Oh, what a happy evening that was! The little cottage in the val ley resounded with the children’s songs and cheers, as Paul’s ‘banquet,’ for so they called it, was partaken. I question if the great house upon the hill was half so joyful a place. It was wonderful what that $200 effected. It put a bright paper on the little parlor walls, and a new car pet over the* floor, so strewn with rosebuds and green leaves that one feared to crush them by walking on it. Trees and shrubs were planted in the garden, and floAvers round the wiudows—oh, you would hardly know Dale cottage now. Even Julian Rivers is convinced that it was a far Ariser, as well as more honorable course, to restore that money, for Paul advances each year in his situation. And dear little Dora is so proud of her brother! She will -now and then remember a highly important commission, and write him a note, sending it by some one going to town, merely for the pleasure of seeing the direction, “Paul Hampton, care of Owen AVainright, Esq.” “Here’s another letter from your sweetheart, Paul,” said a fellow clerk one day. “No, it’s from my own, dear little Sis,” was Paul’s reply, “but if I meet with such another true, kind girl for a sweetheart, also, I shall think myself a lucky fellow.” And so Paul keeps steadily upon his course, with every prospect of future advancement, and with the brightest hopes of growing up to a noble manhood, in spite of his hum ble beginning. His employer places the greatest confidence in him, and Dora is justly proud of her brother. They have both learned, on more than one occasion, the truth of the old maxim—Honesty is the best pol icy : for does not Paul owe all his bright prospects and ambitions to that one little act of restoring the lost pocket-book to its owner ? Methods of Making Coffee. ; The roasting of'coffee in the best ] manner requires great nicety, since j much of the quality of the beverage ] depends upon the operation. It is j usually roasted in a hoIloAv cylinder • made of perforated sheet-iron, which | is kept turning over a brisk fire. When the coffee has assumed a deep cinnamon color and an oily appear ance, and the peculiar fragrance, is perceived to be sufficiently strong, it should be takeq from the fire, well shaken, and permitted tocooIT" more than half a pound at once should be roasted for domestic use, and the cylinder should never be above one-third filled. This opera tion, and the subsequent grinding of the beans, should be performed just before the coffee is needed for use. The French, who are celebrated for their coffee-making, use various kinds of combination, such as Java, Mocha, Rio, and Maracaibo. These coffees are so delicately and in such due proportions mixed as to produce a bouquet of aromatic flavors. With respect to quantity, at least one ounce of eoffee should be used to make three ordinary sized cupfuls. The coffee-pot should be first warmed, and the water poured over the coffee. AVhatever is used for clearing, Avhite of eggs, isinglass, Ac., should be dis solved before mixing. There are about one hundred and seventy-five patents in existence for coffee-pots. The best form known is one which distils the coffee, never allowing it to boil. By this process the infusion does not become black, bitter, or stale, and can be served at any time, with all the aroma of the bean. Anecdotes of a Deaf Man. Wind mills, made famous by the exploits of Don Quixote, in olden times, were in common use in the early settlement of this country, and then one man who followed the busi ness of putting up wind mills, Caleb Snyder, of Franklin County, Georgia was of this calling. Now Caleb was very deaf, and like most deaf men he had a habit of guessing at what was said and answering at a venture. On one occasion as Caleb was mak ing a wind mill near the public high way, he saw a man approaching on horseback. Now, said he, that man will ask me what I am making. I’ll tell him a wind mill post. He’ll then ask me how deep I put it. I’ll tell him up to this knot on the post. He -will then ask what I will charge to make him one. I’ll tell him $25. He’ll say he won’t give it. Ell tell him if he won’t somebody else will. The stranger approached with the salutation, “Good morning sir.” Caleb replied, “wind mill post sir.” “Please inform me how far it is to the next house ?” “Up to this knot sir.” n The stranger somewhat indignant, replied “you must be a fool.” fa Twenty-five dollars sir.” “I’ve a good mind to get down and give you a hell of a whipping sir.” H you don’t somebody else will.” A Temperance Sermon. The Peoria (HL) Revieio prints this plain story: Springfield has just had a sensation. A former State official, and a man who has occupied high positions, not only in the com- momvealth, but in the nation, has been on a spree for a few days. He visited at Bunn’s banking-house, and demanded fifty dollars. It was refused him; whereupon he abused the teller and had to be ejected. He ■risited a saloon and asked for a drink of whisky. The bar-tender told him he had none; whereupon, he grew so violent that he had to be ejected by force. Drunken, friendless, and an outcast—such is the fate of one who aspired to be President of the United States. He is now a perfect wreck, and even his friends have come to the conclusion that the only service he can render is to die. Whis ky has swamped him as it has many others. The Sabbath a Loving Day.— “Mother, I suppose one reason why they call the Sabbath a holy day is because it’s such a loving day,” said a little boy, as be stood by his fath er’s side and looked up into his mother’s face. “Why is not every day a loving day?” "asked his mother. “I love father, and father loves me, and we both love you and baby every day as well as Sunday.” “Well, but you’ve no time to teU us on week days,” said the little boy. “You ham to work, and father has to go off early to his work, and he is so tired when he comes home; but Sunday he takes me on his knee and tells me Bible stories, and we go to God’s house together, and oh, ’tis such a lovingday T’ “Don’t Scold Me.” “Don’t, Tommy—don’t do that. You know it makes mother’s head ache.” “Does it make your head ache, mother ?” asked the child, curiously, and with a pitying tone in his voice, as he came creeping up to his moth er’s side, and looking at her as if in doubt whether he would be repulsed or not. “Sometimes it does, my son,” re plied Mrs. Lyon, kindly; “and it is ahvays unpleasant. AV on’t you try to play without making so much noise ?” “Yes, mother, I’ll try,” answered the little fellow cheerfully. “But I loofefGfEeameatly at his moth er, as if something more was in his thoughts. “AVell, dear, what else ?” said she, encouragingly. “AYhen I forget, you’ll tell me, won’t you?” “Yes, love.” “And then I’ll stop. But don’t scold me, mother, for then I can’t stop.” Mrs. Lyon’s heart was touched. She caught her breath, and bent her head down to conceal its expression, until it rested on the silken hair of the child. Be a good boy, Tommy, and mother will never scold you any more,” she murmured gently in his ears. His arms stole upward, and as they were tAvined closely about her neck, he pressed his lips tightly against her cheek—thus sealing his part of the contract with a lass. Hoav SAveet to a mother’s taste were these first fruits of self-control! In the effort to govern herself, what a power had she acquired. Only first fruits Avere. these. In all her after days did that mother' strive with herself, ere she entered into a contest with the inherited erils of her children; and just so far as she was able to overcome evil in herself, was she able to overcome evil in them. Often, very often, did she fall back into the old states; and often, very often was self-resistance only a slight effort; but the feeble influence for good that flowed from her words or actions whenever this Avas so, warned her of error, and prompted a more rigorous self-con trol. Need it be said, that she had an abundant reAvard ? Sunbeams.-—Of course you have noticed what a different aspect every thing wears in the sunshine from what it does in the shadow ? And did yon ever think what an analogy there was between the sunlight of the cloudless skies and the sunshine that gleam sin to the darkened cham ber of the human soul ? How bright and beautiful are the golden beams that break at last through the riven clouds to lighten up the Avorld again after a succession of dark and stormy days. How peaceful and happy are the blissful words of hope and cheer that touch the heart and fill the soul with emotions of peace and joy af ter a long period of sorrow and de spondency, when uttered by some disinterested friend. There are none living that do not, in a greater or less degree, have an influence over the earthly happiness of others. The sense of contributing to the pleasure of others augments our o\ra happi ness. Unselfishness, Christian char ity, and loving kindness, are the sun beams of the soul. Advice fob Young Men.—Presi dent AVhite, of Cornell University, said recently, in an address to the students: “If there is any man whom from the bottom of my heart I pity, it is the man who believes that all mankind are cheats and SArindlers, and who considers life merely a game of grasping and grip ping. H there is any young man for whom I feel deep regret, as for a man sure to fail, sure to live and die wretchedly, it is the young man who goes forth into the world believing that the onjy motive's in the world are selfish motives. Depend upon it that selfishness is not the only mo tive in this world— nay, it is not even the strongest motive. Good definitions are rare, as all who consult AVebster’s Unabridged well know. The editor of this pon derous volume ought to be grateful to the little boy, when asked by his sister what capital punishment was, replied that it was being locked up in the cupboard with the jam ana other nice things. Patience is the ballast of the soul, that will keep it from rolling and tumbling in the greatest storms; and he who will venture out without this to make him sail even and steady will Certainly make shipwreck and drown himself, first in the cares and sorrows of the world and then in perdition. “How do yon keep out of quarrels?” asked one friend of another. “Oh, easily enough,” was replied. “If a man gets angry with me, I let him have All die quarrel to himself.”