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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.