Newspaper Page Text
VOL. II.
SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, JANUARY 30, 1874.
JJ G. MEDLOCKV ethro arlinx. r. l. RODGERS.
:{> Hcillocli, Arliite & Uodgers.
Tue Herald is published in Sandersville,
n every Friday morning. Subscription
irice TWO 1)0FLOSS per annum.
1 advertisements inserted at the usual rates.
Xo charge for publishing marriages or
il sixths.
POETRY.
E F.
nr SARAH T. BOLTON.
If our path was strewed with roses
That concealed no stinging thorn;
If the hour when one joy closes
^ Saw another newly bora—
If our dreams were full of beauty,
And oar waiting hours of peace,
Would we feel for those whose duty
Never gives their hearts release ?
If our dwelling were a palace,
Where we kn^w no pang or pain,
Where fixe red wine in life’s chalice
’ Bore no bitterness, no bane—
Would our sympathies awaken,
Would our velvet hands be spread
For the outcast, the forsaken,
Who has neither home nor bread ?
If our raiment were the finest
That the Indies could afford ;
If the daintiest food and rarest
Bcily crowned our glittering board,
Could our full hearts know the sorrow
Of the patient, toiling poor,
Who tremble lest to-morrow
Bring gaunt famine to their door ?
If wo knew no lack, no losses,
Disappointment, toil, nor care,
Would we succor him whose crosses
Are too wearisome to bear?
If we slept on silken couches
Prankt with costly gems and gold,
Would we pity binx who crouches
By the wayside in the cold ?
If the world werejuster, truer,
In its censure and its praise—
If our doubts and fears were fewer;
Fewer nights and weary days.
If there were no graves behind us
Vi’nere the loved and lost ones sleep,
No sweet memories to bind us,
Would we weep with those who weep ?
If our hopes were never blasted—
If our love grew never cold;
If our strength and beauty lasted
Till a hundred years were told.
Would our hearts be humbly given
To the Giver of such bliss—
Would we ever think of heaven
As a better place than this ?
SELECT MISCELLANY.
MARY MOORE.
All my life I had known Mary
Moore; all my life I had loved her.
Opr mothers were old playmates,
and first cousins. My first recollec
tions are of a boy, in a red frock and
morocco shoes, rocking a cradle, in
which reposed a sunny-haired, blue
eyed baby, not quite a year old.
That boy was myself—Harry Church;
that baby was Mary Moore.
Later still, I see myself at the old-
school-house, drawing my little chaise
up to the door that Mary might ride
home. Many a beating have I gained
on such occasions, for other boys
besides me liked her, and she, I fear,
was something of a flirt, even in her,
pinafore. How elegantly she came
tripping down the steps when I call
ed her name; how sweetly her blue
eyes longed at me ; how gaily rang
out her merry laugh. No one but
Mary could ever bring her heart so
soon to her lips. 1 lollowed that
laugh from my days of childhood till
I grew an awkward, blushing youth ;
I followed it through the heated noon
of manhood: and now when the
frosts of age are silvering my hair,
and many children climb upon my
knee, and call me “father,” I find that
the memories of youth are strong,
and that, even in my gray hairs, I am
following the music still.
When I was fifteen, the first great
sorrow of my life came upon my
heart. I was sent to school, ami
was obliged to part with Mary. We
were noxto see each other for three
long years. This to me was like a
sentence of death, for Mary was like
life itself to me. But hearts are
tough things after all.
I left college in all the flush of my
nineteenth year. I was no longer
awkward or embarrassed. I had
grown into a tall, slender stripling,
with a very good opinion of myself
both iu general and particular. If I
thought of Mary Moore it was to
imagine how I could dazzle and be
wilder uer with my good looks and
mderful mental attainments, and
never thinking she might dazzle and
in-Aildev me still more. I was a cox
comb, 1 know, but as youth and good I
looks have tled,_I trust that I may be j
believed when 1 say that self-conceit
lias left me also.
An advantageous proposal was.
made me at that time, ancl accepting
it, I gave up all idea of a profession
and prepared to go to India. In my
hurried visit home of two days, I saw
nothing of Mary Moore. She had
gone to a.boarding school at some
distance, and Was not expected home
uutii the following May. I uttered a
sigh to the memory of my little blue-
eyed playmate, and then called my
self “a man” again.
In a year, I thought as the vehicle
whirled" away from our door—in a
year, or three years at the very most
—I will return, and if Mary is as pret
ty as she used to be, why then, per
haps, I may marry her.
And thus I settled the’ future of a
young lady whoyi I had not seen for
four years. I never thought, of the
possibility of her refusing me—never
dreamed that she would not conde
scend to accept my offer.
But now I know that had Mary
met me then she would have despis
ed me. Perhaps in the scented and
affected student she might have found
plenty of sport, but as for loving me,
I should perhaps have found myself
mistaken. India was my salvation,
not merely because of my success,
but because my laborious industry
had counteracted the evil in mv na
ture, and had made me abetter man.
When at the end of three years, I
prepared to return, I said nothing of
the reformation of myself, which I
know had taken place. They loved
me as I was, I murmured to myself,
and they shall find out for them
selves whether I am better worth lov
ing than formerly.
I picked up many a token from
that land of romance and gold for the
friends I hoped to meet. The gift
for Mary Moore I selected with a
beating heart; it was a ring of rough,
virgin gold, with my name and lier’s
engraved inside—that was all, and
yet the sight of the little toy strange
ly thrilled me as I balanced itrupon
the tip of my finger.
To the eyes of others it was but
a smal], plain circlet, suggesting
thoughts, perhaps, by its elegance, of
the beautiful white hand that was to
wear it. But not to me—how much
was embodied there—all these de
lights were hidden within that little
ring of gold.
Tall, bearded, and sun-bronzed, I
knocked at the door of my father’s
house. The lights in the parlor win
dow, and the hum of conversation
and cheerful laughter, showed me
that company was assembled there.
I hoped that sister Lizzie would come
to the door, aud I might greet my
family when no strange eye was look-
carelessly on.
But no, a servant answered my
summons. They were too merry in
the parlor to heed the long-absent
one who asked for admittance. A
bitter thought like this ran through
my mind as I heard the sound from
the parlor, and saw the half-suppress
ed smile on the servant’s face.
I hesitated a moment before mak
ing myself known or asking for any
of the family. And while I stood si
lent a strange apparitien grew up be
fore me; from behind the servant
peered out a golden head, a tiny, de
licate form and a sweet childish face
with blue eyes, so like to those of
one who had brightened my boyhood
that I started with a sudden feeling
of pain.
“What is your name, my pretty?”
I asked, while the wondering servant
held the door.
“Mary Moore.”
“And what else?” I asked quickly.
She lifted up her hands to shade
her face. I had seen that very atti
tude in another, in my boyhood,
many and many a time—and aswer-
ed in a sweet, bird-like voice:
“Mary Moore Chester,” lisped the
child.
My heart sank down like lead. Here
was an end to all the bright dreams
and hopes of my youth and manhood.
Frank Chester, my boyish rival, who
had often tried in vain to usurp my
place beside the girl, had succeeded
at last, and had won her away from
me. This was the child—his child
and Mary’s.
I sank, body and soul, beneath this
blow, and hiding my face in my hands
I leaned against the door, while my
heart wept tears of blood. The lit
tle one gazed at me, grieved and
amazed, and put up her pretty lips
as if about to cry, while the perplex
ed servant stepped to the parlor and
called my sister out to see who it was
that conducted himself so strangely.
I heard a slight step, and a pleasant
voice, saying:
“Did yoil wish to see my father sir?’
I looked up. There stood a pretty,
sweetfaced maiden of twenty, not
much changed from the dear little
sister I had loved so well. I looked
at her for a moment, and then stilling
the tempest of my heart, by a mighty
effort I opened my arms and said:
“Lizzie, don’t you know me ?”
“Harry! oh, my brother Harry!”
she cried, and threw herself upon
my breast, and wept as if her heart
would break.
I could not weep. I drew her gent
ly into the lighted parlor, and stood
with her before-them all.
There was a rush, and .a cry of
joy, and then my father and mother
sprang toward me, and welcomed me
home with heartfelt tears. Oh, strange
and passing sweet is such a greeting
to the way-worn traveler. And as I
held my dear old mother to my heart,
and grasped my father’s hand, while
Lizzie clung beside me, I felt that all
was not yet lost; and although an
other had secured life’s most choicest
blessing, many a joy remained for
me in the dear sanctuary of home.
There were four other inmates of
the room, who had risen on my sud
den. entrance. One was the blue
eyed child whom I had already seen,
and who now stood beside Frank
Chester, clinging to his hand. Near
by stood Lizzie Moore, Mary’s eld
est sister, and in a distant corner to
which she had hurriedly retreated
when my name was spoken, stood a
tall and slender figure, half hidden
by the heavy window curtains that
fell to the floor.
When the first rapturous greeting
was over, Lizzie led me forward with
a timid grace, and Frank Chester
grasped my hand.
“Welcome home, my boy!” he said,
with the loud, cheerful tones I re
membered so well. “You have chang
ed so that I never would have known
you; but no matter about that, your
heart is in the right place, I know.”
“How can you say he is changed?”
said my mother, gently. “To be
sure he looks older and grower, and
mere like a man than when he went
away; but hi3 eyes and smile are the
same as ever. It is^ a heavy heart
which changes him.He is my boy
stiil.”
“Aye, mother,” I answered sadly,
“I am your boy still.”
Heaven help me! At that mo
ment I felt like a Toy, and it would
have been a blessed relief to have
wept on her bosom as I had done
in my infancy. But I kept down the
beating of my heart, and the tremor
of my lip, and answered quietly, as
I looked into his full handsome
face—
“You have changed, too, Frank,
but I think for the better.”
“Oh, yes—thank you for the com
pliment,” lie answered with a hearty
laugh. “My wife tells me I grow
handsomer every day.”
His wife ! Could I hear that name
and be silent still.
“And have you seen my little girl?”
he added, lifting the infant in his
arms, and kissed her crimsoned cheek.
“I tell you, Harry,’ there is no such
other in the world. Don’t you think
she looks verj- much like her mother
used to ?”
“Very much,” I faltered.
“Hallo!” cried Frank, with a sud
denness which made me start vio
lently, “I have forgotten to introduce
I you to my wife; I believe you and
she used to be playmates in yonr
younger days—yes, Harry, and he
slapped me on the back—“for the
sake of old times, and because you
were not at the wedding, I will give
you leave to kiss her once, but mind,
old fellow, you are never to repeat
the ceremony. Conte, here she is, I
for one want to see how you will
manage those ferocious moustaches
of yours in the operation.”
He pushed Lixzie, laughing and
blushing towards me. A gleam of
light and hope almost too dazzling
to bear, came over me, and I cried
out before I thought, “Not Mary.”
It must have betrayed my secret
to every one in the? room. But noth
ing was said, even Frank, in general
so obtuse, was this time silent. I
kissed the fair cheek of the young
wife, and hurried to the silent figure
looking out of the window.
“Mary—Mary Moore !” I said in
a low eager tone, “have you no wel
come to give the wanderer?”
She turned, and laid her hand in
mine, and said hurriedly—
“I am glad to see you here, Har
ry”
Simple words, and yet how blessed
they made me. I would not have
yielded her up at that moment for
an emperor’s crown. For there was
the happy home group and dear
home fireside; with sweet Mary
Moore. The eyes I had dreamed of
day and night were falling beneath
the ardent gaze of mine, and the
sweet face I had so long prayed to
see was there beside me. I never
knew the meaning of happiness until
that moment.
Many years have passed sines that
nappy night, and the hair that was
dai’k and glossy is fast turning gray.
I am grown to be an old man, and
can look back to a happy, and I hope
a well spent life. And yet, sweet as
it has been, I would not recall a sin
gle day, for the love that my man
hood so bright, shines also upon my
white hairs.
An old man ! Can this be so? At
heart,Iamasyoungasever. And Ma
ry,with her hair parted smoothly from
a brow that has a slight furrow upon
it, is still the Mary of other days. To
me she can never grow old or chang
ed. The heart that held her in in
fancy and sheltered her in the flush
and beauty of womanhood, can nev
er cast her out till life shall cease to
warm it. Not even then, for love
still lives above.
Go in for “Hog and Hominy.”—
From all we can learn from our ex
changes, there is a reawakening on
the question of making more bread
and meat- in Georgia. The fact that
from the cotton lands of Louisiana
and Alabama, where the crop par
tially failed, a cry has gone up to
Congress for bread, should warn our
Georgia farmers not to rely solely on
“king cotton.” The cotton crop may
fail any season, but if the farmer can
raise his own bread and meat, he
will not have to humble liis spirit by
soliciting charity. Our northern
counties produce superior wheat,
and we can grow corn everywhere.
Let the people look to it that they
have plenty of “hog and hominy”
the coming fall.—Constitutionalist.
Tea Culture in Georgia.
Mrs. E. J. Screven, of McIntosh,
Liberty county, Georgia, contributes
the following interesting article on
the successful culture of tea in our
State, to the Rural New Yorker :
I was very much gratified on hear
ing that you were pleased with the
samples of tea I sent you. As you
requested me to write to you again, I
have thought that an account of our
experience in tea culture might be
interesting to you, and to some of
your readers, as several persons,
since reading your notice of my tea,
have sent to me for seed, and inquir
ed as to how the plant was cultiva
ted.
When the United States Govern
ment, through the agency of Mr. For
tune, introduced -the Chinese Tea
plant (Thea Bohea) into this country,
I and distributed them by the aid of
its Senators into various sections of
; the land, my father had fifty plants
sent to him. They arrived in good
order, growing in genuine Chi
nese soil, and were from three to four
inches high. We put them at once in
larger pots, with fresh rich soil
around them, but were very careful
not to disturb the ball of earth which
surrounded their roots. During the
first summer, they were kept in a
partial shade and watered freely
whenever necessary. They grew off
beautifully, and by the next winter
were from eighteen to twenty-four
inches high, and looked very healthy.
In the month of January we planted
them out in our vegetable garden,
five feet apart each way. They grew
remarkably well, not one dying, and
stood both the cold of winter, and
the heat of summer as well as our
natural plants.
When three years old, we made
our first gathering of leaves. We
had the directions Mr. Fortune gave,
for the preparation of tea, and we
were particular in following them
closely. Of course we had none of
the conveniences which are used in
China, but we tried to imitate them
as nearly as possible. We plucked
the leaves in the afternoon and spread
them out upon a table until next morn
ing. We then rubbed them in our
hands, and dried them in a common
Dutch oven, stirring all the time with
the hand to prevent scorching the
leaves. Each turn was dried in five
minutes, then taken out and rolled
again. This process of rolling and
drying was continued until they ap
peared perfectly dry. It was then
put in glass jars and kept well secur
ed from the air. In about three
months’ time we began using it, and
were delighted with our success. Of
course all our friends must have a
drawing and each one pronounced
it excellent. Since that time we
have made our own tea every spring,
and we consider it so far superior to
the imported tea that we find no
pleasure in drinking the latter.
We made quite a mistake in plac
ing our tea plants five feet apart, for
they have grown so large that it is
impossible to walk betwen then, and
they are about ten feet high. These
bushes produce seed every season in
great abundance. From these seeds
we now have between fifteen and
twenty thousand plants of various
sizes, and we continue to plant the
seeds out every fall. As soon as they
ripen, many of them fall to the ground
and come up thickly under the pa
rent tree. We have quite a grove
set out, ten feet apart, and from these
we are now collecting the most of
our leaves.
The climate in this latitude suits
them perfectly, and there is no more
trouble in cultivating them than
there is with the apple or pear.
When a plantation is once establish
ed it lasts a life time, and after the
bushes are three old, they require
only the weeds to be kept out of them
for they shade around their roots so
perfectly as to kill out the grass. If
our government would again become
interested in making tea one of our
staple productions, we would, in a
few years, be quite independent of
Chinese production.
Don’t be too Critical.—Whatever
yon do, never set up for a critic. We
don’t mean a newspaper one, but in
private life, in the domestic circle, in
society. It will not do any one any
good, and it will do you harm—if
you mind being called disagreeable.
If you don’t like one’s nose, or ob
ject to any ones chin, don’t put your
feelings into words. If any one’s
manners don’t please yon, remember
your own. People are not all made
to suit one taste : recollect that. Take
things as you find them, unless you
can al;er them.^Even a dinner, af
ter it is swallowed, cannot be made
any better. Continual fault-finding,
continual criticism of the conduct of
this one and the speech of that one,
the dress of the other and the opin
ions of t’other, will make home the
unhappiest place under the sun. If
you are never pleased with any one,
no one will ever be pleased with you.
And if it is known that you are hard
to suit, few will take pains to suit
yon.—Hearth and Home.
A parlor match—popping the ques
tion in the drawing-room.
Men who Win Women.
God has so made the sexes that
women, like children, cling to men;
lean upon them as though they were
superior in mind and body. They
make them the sums of their systems,
and they and their children revolve
around them. Men are Gods, if they
but knew it, and woman burning in
cense at their shrines. Women,
therefore, who have good minds and
pure hearts want men to lean upon.
Think of their reverencing a drunk
ard, a liar, a fool, or a libertine. If
a man would have a woman to do
him homage, he must be manly in
every sense; a true gentleman; not
after the Chesterfield school, but po
lite, because his heart is full of kind
ness to all; one who treats her with
respects, even deference, because she
is a woman ; who never condescends
to say silly things to her ; who brings
her up to his level, if his mind is
above hers ; who is never over-anx
ious to please, but always anxious to
please, but always anxious to do
right; who has no tune to be frivolous
icith her. Always dignified in speech
and act; who never spends too much
upon her ; never yields to temptation
even if 3he puts it in his way ; who |
is ambitious to make his mark in the |
world, whether she encourages him j
or not; icho is never familiar icith \
her to the extent of being an adopted .
brother or cousin; who is not over i
careful about dress ; always pleasant j
and considerate, but always keeping j
his place of the man, the head, and j
never losing it. Such deportment, !
with noble principles, a good mind, !
energy and industry, will win any
woman in the world who is worth
winning.
The record of the Georgia Peniten
tiary shows 549 convicts in March,
1873. The monthly instalments from
April, 1872, to April, 1873, are given
and show a enrious, steady and reg
ular increase. In April, 1872, the
stock of felons was 404. The num
ber went up by regular gradations
each month. Of the 549 only 18 are
women. During the year 58 were
discharged by expirations of their
terms, 21 died, 26 escaped, five were
killed, and two sent to the lunatic
asylum. The heaviest crop of con
victs turned out by the courts for any
one month was thirty-six in Novem
ber. The smallest month’s harvest
was four in August. The number of
convicts now on hand arc 611, of
which 90 are white and 524 are black
There is but one white woman in the \
penitentiary and 10 blacks. The most !
common crime is burglary, and the
next, larceny. There are 206 bur
glars and 126 thieves. There are 60
murderers among the felons, 45 rav-
ishers, 79 charged with assault to
murder and 16 of manslaughter. Cha
tham is the best represented, having
64 convicts; Fulton, 48; Richmond,
36; Bibb, 34; Houston, 26; Thomas,
14; Troup, 13; Mnscogee, 12; Cobb,
Floyed, Clayton and DeKalb, each
11; Greene, Dougherty and Brooks,
each9. All the convicts come from
thirty-two counties. The old peni
tentiary system has cost Geogia §570,
535 from ^December, 1811, to March,
1869. Under the system practised
for a year or two of leasing out the
convicts they have paid an income in
to the Treasury." From April 1, 18-
72, to October 1, 1873, the sum of
§35,213 65 has been realized to the
State. Grant, Alexander & Co. have
paid §25 a head. Their lease expires
in April of this year, and as railroad
building has stopped, they probably
cannot profitably lease the convicts
longer. Even now they have not
work all the time for so large a force.
The question will then arise as to
what disposition will be made of the
convicts by the State. The old pen
itentiary conld only take care of some
two hundred convicts, the average
number before the war. The large
increase since the war is an alarming
feature of crime, due to negro enfran
chisement, and full of trouble and
perplexity to the State in the future.
It is one of the problems for the Leg
islature to solve.—Atlanta Constitu
tion.
God Counts.—A little boy and girl,
brother and sister, were playing in
the dining-room, where their mother
had set a basket of cakes on the tea-
table and then had gone out.
“How nice they look,” said Charlie,
reaching out his hand to take one of
the cakes.
“Oh, don’t do that, Charlie,” said
his sister Jane, “you know mother
told us not to take any of them.”
“But mother didn’t count them ;
and she won’t know if I take just one,”
said Charlie.
“But remember, Charlie, that God
counts,” said his sister, “and’ He
will know.”
Charlie put back the cake, and
turned away from temptation, look
ing very serious. Presently he said:
“Yon are right, sister. God does
count; for the Bible safs,: “He telleth
the number of the stars,” and “The
hairs of your head are all numbered.’”
Destroy the passion tor tale-telling
Lisp not a word that will injure the
character of another, and, as far a3
yon are concerned, slander will die.
NO. 31
A Word to Ladies.
Practical Thoughts.
A cool head, an investigating mind, , ,
a warm heart, and diligent hands f A Aunt Fannie says she can always
te-hl u..„x I tell when there are children m £the
with benevolence and honesty, piety
and perseverance, will insure success
in any laudable undertaking within
the sphere of personal ability ; will
house. The chairs are not set back
in thefmost perfect order, little toys
arescattered about, littlechairsstand
‘‘ j in the corner and large ones are tied
secure respectability! in virtuous so-1 .... , . , , . , .
ciety, and enable ns to m Q et death 1 Wlth rems shownig what wonderful
with composure. A cool head will
save us fr om the embarrassments and
disgrace which passionate people of
ten experience. By investigation,
we learn the nature of things, and
how to adapt means to ends. Sym
pathy and kindness to others will
enlist their interest in our behalf.
Diligence, which effects something
every moment, will accomplish much
in the aggregate of time. The spir
it .of true benevolence will aid in
forming habits of industry and econ
omy; and this is of great importance,
especially to those who wish to ac
complish much with small means.
Strict honesty is always “the best-
policy,” and will secure the confi
dence of all but those who are so
jealous they can trust nobody but
themselves. True piety will give
confidence in onr Creator, and en
courage perseverance, and some
times lead to success, even when onr
prospects are difficult and doubtful.
By perseverance, that which seems
impossible may sometimes be ac
complished, and without it no one
will ever accomplish much.—New
England Offering.
Good Advice.
Whatever be yonr calling, be proud
of it. Are you a shoemaker? Try
to make a better shoe than any other
man can make. Yes, whatever yonr
trade or profession, excel in it if you
can.
Bear in mind that any kind of
honest labor is honorable, but choose
well. “In whate’er you sweat, indulge j
your taste.
If you like the free life and lion
horses they have been in some little
child’s imagination. In different ways
but just so surely canjwe or ought we
to tell when there are young ladies
in a house; when you are ushered in
to a parlor—very humble though it
may be—and see pretty tidies on the
chairs, mats^on^the tables, ^transpa
rencies in the windows, wax, worst
ed, or agricultural wreaths’of flowers
neatly framed, vines arranged about
the pictures, and many pretty things
to gratify the eye, yon may be sure
there is a young lady there,fand yon
may be sure of finding her amiable
ancl sensible, and if you are interest
ed enough to make^fnrther inquiries
into her accomplishments, her fond
mother will tell you that she can
make bread and cake equal to her
self, knows how to do plain sewing,
ancl is a good student beside. All
the fancy things shelias done are the
produet^of leisure minutes, a few at
a time, perhaps before dinner after
the table was set, when school was
through in the afternoon, or even an
hour’s early rising in the morning ac
complished wonders. Ancl so it does.
If every young lady would occupy all
her spare minutes, she would find
many hours of useful work accom
plished in a year; ancl it is a very sat
isfying thing to look back npon a
year, or even a month, or even a week,
and see substantial work well done
to show for the time spent.
I called at the house of a friend,*-
not long since, who had a blooming
daughter of sixteen. The mother
met me at the door looking careworn
The sitting-room was cold
and in disorder, so I was shown into
, ,» , . , the kitchen. “Jennie,” she apologiz-
est labor of a farmer do not drag ; ed < ts time to help me
out ffing years in tne study of law or • these B short m0 rnings, that I do not
medicine, for that would only be van- j gefc wo , k done ° erj ear]y . Sho
1 y ant vexation o spin , >u go ; j i;(S p e 0 ff t Q school as soon as
breakfast is over, and evehings she
goes to dancing-school, or tq see the
girls, aud so has little time to help
me.”
j A fire was soon kindled, and the
sitting-room put in order, but it had
nothing cozy or cheerful about it—no
pictures, no mantle ornaments, no’
climbing green about the room; and
from that, I felt I could darw pretty
accurately the character of this
daughter.
Girls, you do not realize the extent
of your powers and influence if yon
do not^exert them for the benefit of
the home circle. Be more at home,
and less in the street. Think less
of the boys, if you would have them
think more of you. Consider that
your mother has the best claim on
your time, and that it will greatly
relieve her if you take more interest
in the work. Rise and put the house
in order before breakfast, in the
morning. Learn to cook on Satur-
„ , , • i i j dav. Learn fancy work, every kind
On an animal becoming choked £ can . Adorn your walls and man-
with any hard substance that can- ^ ^ pictur ^ and pre tty things.
not pass the gullet, harsh measures ! t* 4
didn't be lised until allothers have |
day. ’ Let her rather be proud of
you, and let your parents be proud
of yon, and, when you are old enough,
you will have a husband to be proud
of yon.
immediately to the farm, and in the
life you love enjoy that perfect peace
of mind peculiar to every individual
that feels he is in his fort, doing what
God designed he should, aud who
wili never have to realize that cold,
humiliating, and sickening feeling,
that his life has been a failure.
Suffer not that feeling to creep ov
er you, but be up and doing. “Look
well to the ways of your footsteps.”
Keep clean the house of clay in which
God has placed you. Touch not,
taste not that which will corrupt it.
Go not to your grave a compostition
one-third whiskey, one-third tobacco
and the remaining third corruption,
so filthy that even the ghonls and ra
venous worms would scorn to touch
you.
Be true to yourself. Deal honest
ly and plainly with your fellow-men.
Remember that—
' “The pleasure is as great
In bein'? cheated as to cheat.
failed. The practice of placing a
block against the throat and endeav
oring to break the obstruction with
a mallet, as is sometimes practiced,
is simply brutal. One of the sim
plest and at the same time most ef
ficacious remedies is to give a half
pint of lard oil or melted lard, by
drawing out the animal’s tongue,
raising the head and administering
from a thick bottle. This lubricates
the gullet, sickens the stomach, re
laxes the muscles of the throat, and
in coughing the lodged substance
will generally pass up or down.
If the choking has existed so long
that inflammation of the throat has
ensued, resort must be had to prob
ing. Any flexible rod, either whale
bone, vulcanised rubber, etc., with a
sponge or soft substance affixed to
the end, will answer. Introduce the
soft end into the throat, holding the
animal’s head np, and, the obstruc
tion being reached, press it down
firmly at any risk, for it is now a case
of life or death.
To relieve the inflammation, ap
ply a slippery-ekn poultice, keeping
A Deacon’s Dinner.
When you are carrying several ar
ticles and one of them slips, it is best
not to try to recover it. Roberts was
helping bis wife to prepare the din
ner table on Sunday, as one of the
Deacons was to take dinner with
them. Roberts took a plate of steak
in one hand and the coffee pot in the
other, and had a dish of peas on the
arm with the steak. The wind blew
the dining-room door partly too as
he approached it, and putting out
his foot to push it back, the arm with
the peas moved out of plumb, and that
dish commenced to slide. A cold streak
flew up Roberts’ spine, and his hair be
gan to rise, and he felt a sudden sick
ness at the stomach, but he dodged
ahead to save the peas, partly caught
them, made a wrong move, lost them
again, jobbed at them with the coffee
it in close contact with the throat by S P°b , an( l upset the steak dish,
securing the folds in which it is placed
by means of coTds to the horns, keep-
. ing the animal on light, soft food,
assisted with linseed tea, until the
inflammation is subdued.
Bealttful Pink Dye.—Take three
parts cream tartar and one of coch
ineal, nicely robbed together; tie a
teaspoonful in a mustard-bag; put
this with a quart of boiling water ;
dip in the articles to be colored, pre
viously cleaned and dipped in alum ;
if wished stiff, put in a little gum
arabic.
Mr. Josh Billings philosophically
remarks that “We laff at sheep be-
kause when one of them leads the
way the rest follow; however ridikil-
ns it may be; and I suppose the
laff when they see ns do the very
same thing.”
and in springing back to avoid the
gravy* stepped .on the eat that belong
ed to the family down stairs, and came
to the floor in a heap, with the steak,
peas and a terribly mad cat
under him, and an overflowing pot of
scalding coffee on top of him.
Then he bounded up and jump
ed on the steak dish, and picked up
the other dish and threw it out of
the window, and finished that per
formance in time to hurl the coffee
pot and the remaining contents after
the cat, which was making the very
best time down the front stairway,
The Deacon didn’t stay to dinner.
Roberts retired to the bedroom with
a bottle of sweet oil and and a roll of
cotton batting, and Mrs. Roberts
went over to her mother’s to cry. -
What is the proper age for a par
son? Why, the parsan-age, of course.