Newspaper Page Text
VOL. II.
OHKaMBSapBBIBSMIBa
SANDER® VILLE, GEORGIA, OCTOBER 10, 1873.
NO. 15.
.M. G. MEDLOCH. J33THBO ARLINE. E. L. EODGEBS.
J»y MedSwek, Arline & Rodijers.
Thb Herald is published in Sandersville,
Ga.. every Friday' morning. Subscription
price rWO DOLLARS per annum.
Advertisements inserted at the usual rates.
>, T .i ciiarge for publishing marriages or
deaths.
POETRY.
Prize Song of the Patrons of Husbandry.
BY MBS. M. F. TUCKER.
[T'\e -rize of $>", oSered by the National
Grange-,* Patrons of Husbandry, for a song
a do pie 1 to tne use of that. Order, has been a
wur'h.-d to Mrs. Tualrer, for the following,
w ;..it is announced, will be set to music
s-van. I'lie c-aretary, : n making the nn-
nonncement, says Mrs. T. had able compet
itors. and the decision was made in her fa
vor b\ Mr. Alien. -■ alitor of flarper’s maga
zine. ‘ V:.]
’I’is ours to guard a sacred trust,
We shape a heaven born plan ;
The noble purpose wise and just,
To aid our fellow man,
From Main to California’s slope,
Resounds the reaper’s song:
“We come to build the nation’s hope,
To slay the giant Wrong,”
Too long have Avarice and Greed
With coffers running o’er
Brought sorrow, and distress, and need,
To Labor's humble door,
From Main to California's slope,
Resounds the reaper’s song :
“We come to build the nation’s hope,
To slay the giant Wrong.”
A royal road to place and power,
Have rank and title been :
We herald the auspicious hour;
When honest Worth may win.
From Maine to California’s slope,
Resounds the reaper’s song;
“We come, to build the nation’s hope.
To slay the giant Wrong.”
Let every heart and hand unite
In the benignant plan,
The noble purpose, just and right,
To aid our fellow man.
From Maine to California’s slope,
Resouud’s the reaper’s song#
“We come, to build the nation’s hope,
To slay the giant Wrong.”
Omro, Winnebago Co., Tils.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
THE TWO WIDOWS.
A PLEASING STORY, WITH A GOOD MORAL.
Once on a time, two poor old wid
ows lived in the same hamlet and
under the same roof. But, though
the cottages joined and one roof
covered them, they had each a sep
arate dwelling; and although they
were alike in age and circumstances,
vet. in other respects they were very
different. For one dame was cove
tous, though she had little to save,
and the other was liberal, though she
had little to give.
Now, on the rising ground opposite
to the .widows’ cottages stood a
monastery, where a few pious and
charitable brethren spent their time
in prayer, labor and good works.
And with the alms of the monks,
and the kindness of neighbors, and
because their wants were few, the
chi women dwelt in tolerable com
fort, and had daily bread, and lay
warm at night.
Now one evening, when the covet
ous old widow was having supper,
there came a knock at her door. Be
fore she Opened it she hastily put
away the remains of her meal. “For,’'
said she, “it is a stormy night, and
ten to one some belated vagabond
wants shelter; and when there are
victuals on the table every fool must
be asked to sup.”
When, however, she opened the
door, a monk, with his cowl pulled
over his head to shelter him from
the storm, stepped into the cottage.
Much disconcerted at having kept
one of the brotherhood waiting, the
widow loudly apologized, and dusted
a chair for her reverend guest; but
the monk stopped her string of re
grets, adding, “I fear I cut short
your evening meal, my daughter.”
“Now iu the name of ill-luck, how
came he to guess that?” thought
the widow, as with anxious civility
she began to press the monk to take
some supper after his walk; for the
good woman always felt hospitably
inclined toward any one who was
likely to return her kindness seven
fold.
The brother, however, refused to
sup ; and as he seated himself the
widow looked sharply through her
spectacles to see if she could gather
from any charitable distention of the
folds of his frock, whether a loaf, a
bottle of cordial, or a new winter’s
cloak were most likely to crown the
visit. No undue protuberance be
ing visible about the monk’s person,
she turned her eyes to his face, and
found that the visitor was one of the
brotherhood whom she had not seen
before. And not only was his face
unfamiliar—it was utterly unlike the
kindly but rough countenances of
her charitable patrons. Not that
she had never seen boasted the no
ble beauty, the chiseled and refined
features of the monk before her.
And she could not but notice that,
although only the rushlight illumi
nated her room, and though the
monk’s cowl went far to shade him
even from that, yet a bright light al
ways seemed to be on his face, mak
ing his clear skin almost transparent.
Her curiosity must have been great
ly stirred, had not her prevailing
passion of greed made her more anx
ious to learn what he brought than
who he was.
“It’s a terrible night,” quoth the
monk at length. “Such tempest
without only gives point to the in
door comforts of the wealthy; but it
chills the very marrow of the poor
and destitute.”
“Ah, indeed!” sniffed the widow
with a shiver. “If it were not for
the charity of good Christians, what
would poor folks do for comfort on
such an evening as this?”
‘ It was that very- thought, my
daughter,” said the monk, with a
sudden earnestness on his shining
face, “that brought me forth even
now through the storm to your cot-
t age.
“Heaven reward you!” cried the
widow xeivently.
“Heaven does reward the charita
ble!’ replied the mouk. “To no
truth do the Scriptures bear such
constant and unbroken witness, even
as it is written: “He that hath pity
on the poor lendeth unto the Lord;
and look; what he layeth out it shall
be paid to him again.”
“What a blessed thing it must be
to be able to do good!” said the
widow, piously, wishing in her heart
that the holy man would not delay
to earn his recompeuce.
“My daughter,” said the monk,
“that blessing is not withheld from
you. It is "to ask your help for those
in greater need than yourself that I
am come to-night.” And forthwith
the good brother began to tell how
two strangers had sought shelter at
the monastery. Their house had
been struck by lightning and burned
with all it contained; and they, them
selves, aged,. poor and friendless,
were exposed to the fury storm. “Our
house is a poor one,” continued the
mouk. “The stranger’s lodging-room
is already full, and we are quite with
out the means of makiug these poor
souls comfortable. You at least
have a sound roof over your head,
and if y T ou cau spare one or two
things for the night, they shall be
returned to-morrow, when some of
our guests depart.”
The -widow could hardly conceal
her vexation and disappointment.
“Now, dear heart, holy father!” cried
she, “is there not a rich body iu the
place, that you come for charity to a !
poor widow like me, that am in a case j
rather to borrow myself than to lend ;
to others?”
“Can you lend us a spare blanket?” |
said the mouk. ‘These poor strangers :
have been out in the storm, remem- ;
ber.”
The widow started. “What med
dling busybody told him that that the
baroness gave me a new blanket at
Michelmas ?” thought she; but at
last, very unwillingly, she went to her
inner room to fetch a blanket from
her bed.
“They shan’t have the new one,
that’s fiat,” muttered the widow;
and she* drew out the old one, and
began to fold it up. But though she
had dwelt upou its thickness and in
sufficiency to the baroness, she was
so powerfully affected at parting with
it, that all its good qualities came
strongly to her mind.
“It’s a very suitable size,” said
she to herself, “and easy to my poor
old arms to shake or fold. With
careful usage it would last for years
yet; but who knows how two wan
dering bodies that have been tramp
ing miles through the storm will kick
about in their sleep ? And who knows
if they’re decent people at all ? Like
ly enough they’re two hedge birds,
that have imposed a pitiful tale on
the good fathers, and never slept on
anything finer than a shock of straw
in their lives.”
The more the good woman thought
of this, the more she felt sure it was
the case, and the less willing she be
came to lend her blanket to “a couple
of cheating tramps.” A sudden idea
decided her. “Ten to one they bring
a fever with them !” she cried; “and
dear knows I saw enough good bed
ding burnt after the black fever, ten
years ago! It would be a sin and
a shame to burn a good blanket like
this!” And repeating, “a sin and a
a-shame” with great force, the wid
ow restored the blanket to its place.
“The coverlet’s not worth much,”
she thought; “but my good man
bought it the year after we were
married, and if anything happened
to it I should never forgive myself.
The old shawl is good enough for
tramps.” Saying which she took
a ragged old shalw from a peg,
and began to fold it up. And even
as she brushed aud folded, she be
gan to grudge the faded, rag. “It
saves my better ope on a bad day,”
she sighed, “but I suppose the fath
er must have something.”
And accordingly she' took it to the
monk. “It s not so good as it has
been, but there’s warmth in it yet,
and it cost a pretty penny when new.”
“And is this all that you can spare
to the poor houseless strangers?”
asked the monk.
“Ah, indeed good father,” said she
“and that will cause me many a
twinge of rheumatics. Folks at my
age can’t Jie cold at night for noth
ing.”
“These poor strangers,” said the
monk, “are as aged as yourself, and
have lost everything.”
But as all he had said had no effect
in moving the widow’s compassion,
lie departed, and knocked at the
door of her neighbor. Here he told
the sauie-tale, which met with a very
different hearing. This widow was
one of those liberal souls whose poss
essions always make them feel un
easy unless they are being accepted,
or used, or borrowed by some one
else; and she blessed herself that, i
thanks to the baroness, she had a I
blanket fit to lend to a king himself, I
aud only desired to know what eise j
she had with which she could serve !
the poor strangers, aud requite the j
charities of the brotherhood. ' j
The monk confessed that all the j
slender stock of his household goods
in the. monastery was in use, aud
one after another he accepted the
loan of almost everything the widow
had. As she gave them he put them
out through the door, saying that he
had a messenger outside; and hav
ing promised that everything should
be duly restored on the morrow, he
departed, leaving the widow, little
else than the chair iu which she was
to pass the night.
When the monk had gone, the
storm raged with greater fury than
before, and at last one terrible flash
of lightning struck the widow’s house,
and, though it did not hurt the old
women, it set fire to the roof, and
both cottages were soon ablaze. Now,
as the terrified old creatures hobbled
out into the storm, they met the
monk, who, crying “Come to the mon
astery!” seized an arm of each, and
hurried them up the hill. To such
good purpose did he help them that
they seemed to fly, aud arrived at
the convent gate they hardly knew
how.
Under a shed by the wall were the
goods and chattels of the liberal
widow.
“Take back thine own, daughter,”
said the monk; “thy charity has
brought its own reward.”
“Butthe Strangers, good father?”
said the perplexed widow.
“You are the strangers,” answered
the monk; “and what thy pity thought
meet to be spared for the unfor
tunate, Heaven in thy misfortune
hath spared to thee.” Then turning
to the other widow, he drew the old
shawl from beneath his Rock, and
gave it to her, saying. “I give you
joy, dame, that this hath escaped the
flames. It is not so good as it has
been ; but there is warmth in it yet,
and it cost a pretty penny when new.”
Full of confusion, the illiberal
widow- took back her shawl, murmur
ing, Lackad&y!
If I had but know-n it was ourselves
the go.od father meant.”
The monk gave a shrewd smile.
“Ay, ay, it would have been diff
erent, I doubt not,” said he; “but ac
cept the lesson, my daughter, and
when next, thou art called upon to
to help tbe unfortunate, think that
it is thine who needs that would be
served; and it may be thou shalt
judge better of what thou caust
spare.”
As he spoke, a flash of lightning
lit up the ground where the monk
stood, making a vast oreole about
him in the darkness of the night. In
the bright light his countenance ap
peared stern and awful in its beauty,
and when the flash had passed the
monk had vanished also.
Furthermore, when the widows
sought shelter in the monastery, they
found that the brotherhood know-
nothing of their strange visitor.
A Fable.
While I w-as walking in the garden,
one bright morning, a breeze came
through aud set all the flow-ers and
leaves a fluttering. Now-, that is the
way the flowers talk, so I pricked up
my ears and listened.
"Presently an elder tree said:
“Flowers, shake off your caterpil
lars.”
‘ Why?” said a dozen, altogether,
for they were like some children who
alw-ays say “why,” when they are
told to do anything.
The elder said: “If you don’t
they’ll gobble you up.”
So the flowers set themselves to
shaking, till the caterpillars were
shaken off.
In one of the middle beds there
was a beautiful rose, who shook off
all but oue, and she said to herself,
“O, that’s a beauty; I’ll keep that
one.”
The elder overheard her and call
ed out, “One caterpillar is enough
to spoil you.”
“But,” said the rose, “look at his
brown aud crimson fur, and his beau
tiful black eyes, and scores of little
feet. I want to keep him. Surely,
one won’t hurt me.”
A few- mornings after, I passed
the roso again. There was not a
w hole, leaf on her ; beauty was gone;,
she was all but killed, and had only-
life enough to weep over her folly-,
while the tears stood like dew-drops
on her tattered leaves. “Alas! I
didn’t think' one caterpillar w : onld
ruin me.”
They Say So.—As a rule, whoso
ever habitually- uses the phrase “they
;>ay so” deserves to be distrusted. It
s quite certain to be the preface to
•something injurious, which has eith
er a slender basis or none at all. No
one uses it w ho has a good or com
mendable thing to relate of another,
and it is generally a prelude to some
scandalous or untrue story. It is a
lypocritical phrase, for it pretends
.o disbelieve the tale which it w-ould
lave another believe. And it is cow-
irdly—more cow-ardly than a lie,
hough that is as cowardly as any-
•jhing can well be ; for a lie is a stab,
and it makes no pretence to be oth
erwise ; but “they say so” is a stab
which feigns tisat it is not a stab.
A downright lie tells that which is
contrary to the truth, but “they say
so” does this and more ; it falsely 7
alleges the testimony of a public ru
mor which it invents in support of a
alsehood to whicli it gives currency,
ft insinuates a slanderous or evil re-
)ort, and supplements it with evi
dence which itself had fabricated to
make its falsehood bear the color of
truth. It is safe to act upon the
principle that whenever it is used to
the discredit of another, “they so is
half a liar.”—Christian Intelligencer.
Down the Hill.—The evening of
every man’s life is coming apace.
The day- of life will soon be spent.
The sun, though it may be up iu
aid-heaven, will pass swiftly down
he western sky, and disappear.
What shall light up man’s path w-hen
the sun of life is gone dow-n ? He
must travel on to the next world;
but w-hat shall illuminate his foot
steps after the nightfall of death,
amid the darkness of his journey ?
What question more important,
practicable, more solemn, for each
reader of our journal to himself?
That is a long journey to travel
without a friend. Yet every man
must perform it. The time is not
far distant when all men will begin
the journey. There is an evening
star in the natural world. Its ra
diance is bright and beautiful, and
cheering’to the benighted traveler.
But life’s evening star is a good
hope of heaven. Its beauty and
brilliancy are reflected from the Son
of Righteousness, whose bright rays
light up the evening of life, and
throw their radiance quite across
the darkness of the grave into Im
manuel’s land. It has illumined the
footsteps of inauy a traveler into
eternity. It is of priceless value.
A thousand worlds cannot purchase
it; yet it is offered without money
and without price, to him that will
penitently receive it.—Ex.
How the Grangers Came.—The
Augusta Chronicle gives this over
awing account of how the Grangers !
sprang into existence, “like Minerva j
from the brow of Jupiter, full grown ;
aud completely ai med
“It came like a clap of thunder
from a clear sky. Apparently before
the cloud gathered, the storm burst
forth in all its fury. While the
movement and its probable effect
upon the politics of the country were
being discussed, the party was thor
oughly organized in a dozen States
of the Union, and in one—among
the wealthiest and most influential
—was marching to an assured victo
ry. The Granges sprang into life
like Minerva from the brow of Jupi
ter, full grown, completely armed.
They- were born an army, and the
first manifestation of their existence
was a great victory.”
Keep a List.—1. Keep a list of
your friends; and let God be the
first in the list, however long it may
be.
2 Keep a list of the gifts yon get;
and let Christ, who is the unspeak
able gift, be first.
3. Keep a list of your mercies,
and let pardon and life stand at the
head.
4. Keep a list of your joys; and let
the joy unspeakable and full of glory
be first.
5. Keep a list of your hopes; and
let the hope of glory be foremost.
6. Keep a list of your sorrows;
aud let sorrow for sin be first.
7. Keep a list of your enemies;
and however many- there may be, put
down the “old man” and the “old
serpent” first.
8. Keep a list of your sins; and
let the sin of unbelief be set down as
the first and worst of all.—Promp
ter.
There is dew in one flower and not
in another, because one opens its
cup to take it in, while the other
closes itself and the drop runs t>ff.
So God rains goodness and mercy
as wide as the dews ; and if we lack
them, it is because we will uot open
our hearts to receive them.
“Mamma, why don’t you wear a
hush ?” asked little Johnnie of his
mother the other day.
“A hush !” said the lady, “what do
you mean ?”
"“Why I asked Aunty, what that
was that made her back stick out so,
aud sho said, “Oh hush Johnnie.”
Woman’s best Ornament.
BY REV. E. P. ROGERS.
Let me urge upon my female read- ,
ers, especially those who are in youth, |
the importance of taking loftier and !
better views of life than those taught!
by the vain world. It is a sad thing !
to see so many of the young and i
fair, whose life is most a blank—I.
will not say a blot—whose keen sus- !
ceptibilities, whose noble powers,
whose deep affections, whose pie- !
cious time is lavished only upon j
dress and gayety, and fashionable j
visiting; who wear the bright ap- i
parel of the butterfly, and are as j
light and graceful, and as useless too; !
whose conversation finds no higher }
or more improving subject than the :
idle gossip of the day, the last party-,
or the never-failing topic—dress;
whose readidg is the miserable trash j
which is inundating every conimuni- :
ty, and enervating and dissipating
the minds of our youth; whose i
whole life seems to be an aimless, !
frivolous life; and who, as they flit
by us on their airy wings, provoke
the inquiry: “For what were these
pretty creatures made ?”—I pray 7
-you, take loftier views of life than
these. While I would not draw you 1
from the rational pleasures of socie- ;
ty, nor bring one gloomy cloud up-
your youthful sky, I still would plead
for some serious hours, some indus- .
trious moments; some time ap-1
portioned to the culture of the mind, !
the enriching of the memory with !
stores of useful knowledge. I would j
plead that the capacities and :
aspirations of the immortal part re- ;
ceive some ministration, and that;
the moral faculties" be cultivated aud '
stimulated, and the generous im- !
pulses of the soul be expanded iu
labors, for the best good of those •
around you. Be assured there is no j
beauty like that of goodness—there
is no power like that of virtue; per-1
sonal beauty- may attract the admi
ration of the pagsing hour, but it is
the richer beauty of moral worth, |
the loveliness of the soul, that com- !
mands the deepest reverence, and
and secures the most enduring affec
tion. Even men who have no re- ;
ligion themselves, but who are men
of judgment, and whose opinion is i
worth the most, respect and admire !
a lady- most, who displays in her
character the-“beauty-of holiness.”
If there is one sight more than
any other, in this world of sin and j
sorrow, which combines all the ele
ments of beauty, of nobleness, and of
worth, it is that of a young aud love
ly female, whose youth and beauty,
whose depth and richness of affection
aud whose powerful influence on hu- i
man hearts, are ail consecrated to \
the cause of truth and holiness, and
as an humble offering at the Savior’s j
feet! Such a being is, indeed, wor- ;
thy of the reverence and admiration j
of "every true and noble heart; and
she will command it, even wiiea the
light of her beauty is quenched, and .
the flower of her loveliness is faded. \
But if there is a sad, heart-breaking ;
sight on earth, it is that of one gifted
with all the charms which nature J
lavished upon her daughters, pros- !
tituting them upon the altar of van- j
ity or fashion, and starving the soul
on the unmeaning flattery of a vain :
and hollow-hearted world ; running
a giddy round of gayety, frivolity, |
and dissipation; laying up in the !
future a cheerless and forsaken old
age, and a miserable, remorseful 1
eternity.
“Oh, -wliat is woman? What her smiles, :
Her lips of love, her eyes of light?
What is she, if those lips revile
The lowly Jesus ? Love may write
His name upon her marble brow,
And linger in her curls of jet:
The light spring flowers may meekly bow
Before her tread; and yet—and yet
Without *hat meeker grace, she'll be
A lighter thing than vanity !”
Mirth at Mealtime.—Everybody j
should plan to have pleasant con- j
versation at the table, just as they j
have for good food. A little story- j
telling, a little reading—it may be of j
humorous things, anecdotes, etc., I
w-ill often stimulate the joyous ele-
ment of the mind and cause it to .
act vigorously. Try and avoid go
ing to the table all tiled out. Let all ;
troublesome topics be avoided. Don’t
discipline children. Think and say-
something pleasant. Cultivate mirth, !
and laugh when anything witty is
said. If possible, never eat alone.
Invite a friend of whom you are fond,
aud try and have a good time.
Friendship and friendly intercourse
at table whets the appetite and pro
motes the flow of animal spirits.—
Herald of Health.
Two Titusville, Pa., lawyers enter
ed into a solemn compact not to
drink intoxicating liquors for a year
except when out duck shooting, un
der forfeit of $100. One of them
quenches his thirst without losing
the ducats by keeping a duck in his
back-yard to fire at when he is dry,
and the other has invested in one
also.
A Roman Catholic priest has been
sent to prison for a fortnight in
Prussia for publicly preaching that
marriages among Protestants is mere
Neglect of Duty.
Editors Ioiua Granger.—I fear that
some of us neglect our duty as re
gards the assembling of ourselves to
gether regularly; or in other words,
we are not as punctual in attendance
at our regular meetings as we should
be. This is decidedly wrong, and
cannot be viewed in any other light.
Let me ask what was our object in join
ing the Patrons of Husbandry ? Was
it not that we might improve our
condition, morally, socially, and in
tellectually? And perhaps I might
with truth add financially? Most
assuredly- it was. But this cannot
be done if we absent ourselves, and
neglect to do “the things which so
nearly concern our temporal salva-
tfon.” Then let us press on in the
good begun work, and never “weary
in well doing” until we reach the
goal, for which the order was first
organized. As respects non-attend
ance, I “know how ’tis myself.” We
are very busy sowing wheat; or we
have commenced plowing com; or we
have some fence" to build or repair;
or this or that, and the other thing,
that requires our attention, and we
don’t see how we can leave them all
and go to the Grange. But we sure
ly cau attend, at least, once month,
if we only think so; besides we are
pretty sure to hear something to our
advantage, which we would have
missed, if we had staid at home. It
is all right and proper to work, for
we have to “earn our bread by- the
sweat of our brow-;” but should we
not economise a little, even in this
respect, if by so doing we can im
prove and elevate onr condition ?
The most of us have a w-ay of our
own about farming; but if we attend
each meeting, and hear the subject
“talked up” in all its bearings, per
haps we will hear of a plan that will
suit us, and we will adopt it in pref
erence to onrjown. Therefore, broth
er Patrons, let us endeavor to be
worthy Patrons in deed, as well as in
name. The remark is true that “we
have no way of judging of the future
but by the past,” and judging from
the past, we think we had just cause
for an organization of this kind
Composed for the Iowa Granger.
Plant Trees.
Farmers, the time is here now for
planting trees; and precious time
too, as time waits for no man ; and
he who does not plant now will have
to wait one year longer. Remember
that one year in the growth of trees
makes a large difference in the out
come. When we approach a land
owner and ask him why he does not
plant trees, wo are often told the old
story of “Oh, I intended to do it last
spring, but I was so very busy that
I had really no time;” or it may be
he will tell yon that times were so
hard that he could not spare means
to buy trees. But, brother farmers,
do you not know that “Procrastina
tion is tbe thief of time ?” But now
let me say to you, if you have your
affairs so arranged that it will be
impossible for you to plant trees
this spring, make up your mind that
yon mil not let another season pass
without tree-plantidg largely, and
having made up your mind to that
effect commence action at once. Lay
off your plat of ground for next sea
son’s tree-planting; cultivate it well
this season in some field crop that
will leave the land in condition for
fall plowing. Plow the land deep
this fall; throw up the under soil
that has lain hidden from the sun’s
genial rays for “Lo! these many
years,” and let the sun, air and frost
take action on the land thus pre
pared, and next spring it will be in
fit condition to receive and grow
well all or any kind of trees that
may be planted. But do not stop
here. On the preparation of the
land, look about for the trees where
with to plant. Most kinds of trees
can be obtained with little or no
cost; you need not go or send to the
Rochester Nursery, or the Bloom
ington Nursery, or to the old Colo
ny Nursery in Massachusetts, to ob
tain your supply ; but look after the
soft-maple seed that will now be ma
tured in about one month from this
time ; gather up those seeds, plant
them in good soil, and next spring
you can have a supply: The white-
ash, the box-aider, the elms and
m, , , - r ii many other varieties oi voung trees
Then let us do our duty cheerfully i ,, . n
- , , i : mat are wortny of cultivation, can.
m every respect, that we may come * - - - - J ...
off conquerors iu the end.
; be obtained easily, in large quanti-
| ties, on all of our river or creek bot-
Sun-Pbesting on Fruit.—Boys and i toms. So by looking the thing up
girls, if you wish to astonish any ! * u time, there need be no cash out-
members" of the family or any coming ! But if you want to grow eyer-
guesis by some time allowing them greens, send to some responsible
to discover their initials neatly print- i nurseryman who maxes evergreen
edonapear,peachorapple,asithangs ! raising a specialty, and order of
•‘ branch, this is the way to him—avoid tree-peddlers. If you
- - - want to plant fruit trees, buy of your
home nurserymen. Believe none of
the large stories told you by smooth
tongued agents, who go around the
country telling you that their trees
are better than those grown here in
our own county. "Washington coun-
on its branch, this is the way to
carry out your plan: Just before the
fruit ripens, cut the desired letters
from a sheet of thin, tough paper,
and paste them on the side of the
fruit most exposed to the sun.
When, in the course of time, you re
move the paper from tbe ripe surface,
you will find the letters distinctly j *7 has a ^PP 1 ! of ali kiude of fruit
marked upon it. There are other
ways of printing fruit, but this is the
most simple.—Hearth and Home.
A Keokuk (Iowa) lady-, while bus
ily engaged in the pursuit of her do
mestic duties, encountered a mouse
in the flour barrel. She summoned
the hired man and told him to get
the shot gun, call the bull-dog and ! one of the most beautiful among the
station himself at a convenient dis- ! States of this nation. So, c-ultiva-
tance. Then she climbed half-way tors of the soil, persevere in this
trees that any farmer may want to
cultivate. Then buy of y r our home
nurseries those trees that you have
to buy.. Gather young trees and
seeds for yourselves in the forest,
and by persevering in the good work
of tree raising and tree planting, in
this beautiful and fertile State of
ours, it will be at no distant day,
up stab's and commenced to push
the barrel vigorously with a pole.
Presently the mouse made his ap
pearance and started across the floor.
The bull-dog went in pursuit. The
hired man fired and the dog dropped
dead. The lady fainted and drop-
good work, and Nations yet unborn,
will rise up and call you blessed.
J. Miceet.
The Age of Christ when Cruci
fied.—A forthcoming volume of
Chevalier Ernst Bunsen on the
ped down the stairs, aud the hired “Chronology of the Bible,” which is
man. thinking she was killed, lit out issued simultaneously not only on
man, thinking she was killed, lit out
and has.not been heard from since.
The mouse escaped.
both sides of the Atlantic, but in
four of tbe leading languages of Eu
rope—English, French, German and
. ,, . .... Italian—will present some features
A rather amusing incident^occur- o{ extraordinary interest. One of
red on the Cheshire rauroad the oth- the most startlil j g and on ihe whote
er day One of the passengers con- tbe most novel 0 ° { its eecentrieitiea
siderably annoyed the conductor by j wfll be tbe ca i cu i at j OII wHieH assigns
repeatedly asking him to tell him | to cbrist the of f orly _ niEe Te »r*
w The conduc- - -
when he got W—
at the time of his crucifixion—an
or toid him if he would keep quiet: event which according, to this tW
he would te 1 him when begot there. | took place in the rear thirty-fix*
The conductor having so much to J Q ‘ f the cc f mmon era .
attend to, or from some other cause ! , , m ,
forgot it until they were two miles j There is said to be a lawyer the
past the station, when, suddenly re- ; wilds of Arkansas who three yeant
membering it, he rung the bell and i ago could neither read nesr writer
the train was run back to the station. j and who has never read fisat three
He then informed the gentleman that j law-books since. We art? acquaint-
he was at TV . “All right, said ed with but one man who knows that
he, “I was not very well this morn- j lawyers address, and if he is bribed
ipg a P d m y 'rife told me to take a G r tempted to reveal it to the Prne*
pill when I got as far as here.”
Two Negatives.—A boy in one
of tbe schools asked his teacher if
ident before a Chief Justice of &a
United States Supreme Cou;t shall
have been appointed, may ghostly
, . . ,, , . gallinippers pursue him in'his slum-
he could go out m the yard, and was ^through life, andphautom night-
answered m the negative. Aftes^ forever W . ab ‘ ve ^ pi f loir
the lapse of a few minutes he asked | o{ Ms mother-in-law.-Coziner Jaur,
again and was again answered in the | na j_
negative. Waiting a few minutes ' t m , t
the lad got up aud started fear- the ■. Nothing is more indicative of Am
doo r- j earnestness of life than the sight of *
“TV here are you going, asked the ! well developed male creature spend-
teacher. .... , I ing eight hours a day in trying |p
“I am going ou 'the yard.” ■ wear out a dry goods box with fit
‘"But did I not answer you in the ; seat of pants.
negative, when you asked me?” : —
“Yes; yon made use of two nega-; “Who dat hit me ? Whar’s dat
tives in succession, and von have al- j tern ?” were the exclamations of £
ways taught me that two negatives , astonished Virginia darkie after bejj>
make an affirmative.” J thrown something like a hupdred fit
He was allowed to go out. t br 9 locowotrwp