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li. M. BLACKBURN, Publisher. VOL. VIII. LITERARY DEPARTMENT. MI3B ANNA C. M. BLACKBURN....Editob. For the Madison Home Journal. LAND OF THE SOUTH. BY J. B. G. f AN ORGANIZED DEMOCRAT. Ta Dr. J. C. C. Blackburn, Editor of the Madi son Home Journal, for his true and unwaver ing devotion to principle during the past political campaign, tnc fallowing lines fcre most respectful!/ dedicated. Lind of the South—my native home! Mr heart e’er yearns for thee; Thy daughters bloom in loveliness, Thy bois are bsave and free. Then tell me not of other climes, Where bleak winds ever blow, Where summer ne'er doth warm the soul Where reigns eternal snow. Land of the South—home of the pine, Of orange and jessamine too; Thy fields abound with grain and fruits With Iragrance ever pure. Then tell me not of other lands— Not e'en of India’s coast; Of healthful air—of incense sweet, Thou e'er shall be my boast. Land of the South—ol Washington, Who did tliy foes dely; Beneath thy blight and -olden sun His sacred ashes lie. Tiien may no cloud o’er thee arise, To dim thy radiant light, To give thee praise, to Help thee on, Shall e’er be lay delight. Land of the South —sweet sunny clime. The lairest 'ncath the skies! Above thy plains and valleys green, The proudest mountains rise. Then 1 will praise thee in my song, The land I love so well, -And in thy bosom, on thy soil, O, may I ever dwell. Woodland Cottage, Nov 7th, 1878, From the deepest chambers of a heart that ever beat in unison to the above sentiment, we return our most grateful acknowledge ments to our esteemed friend, J. B. G., for dedicating his beautiful 3ines to us. Nothing is more grate ful to the care-worn editor who has labored continuously for the propagation of correct principles than the consciousness of duty performed, whether successful or not. As grateful as this may be, the endorsement from an old and tried friend, as expressed in the foregoing dedication, fills the heart too big for utterance. God bless my old friend, companion of sunnier hours ! He may ever rest assured that, like him, as long as we have a heart to feel, a mind to think, a pen to write, an arm to strike, we shall ever defend the organized Democracy. J. C. C.B. For the Madison Home Journal. LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. The fair lily is an image of holy innocence ; the rose a figure unfc”. love ; faith is represented to us in the blue passion flower; hope beams forth from the evergreen; peace from the olive branch ; im inortality from the immortelle; the cares of life are represented by the rosemary ; the victory af the spirit by the palm ; modesty by the little violet; compassion by the ivy ; natural honesty and fiidelity by the oad ; how friendly they look upon us with child-like ayes. Even the dispositions of the human soul are expressed by flowers. Thus, silent grief is por trayed by the weeping willow; melancholy by the cypress ; the night rocket is a figure of life, as it stands on the frontiers between light and darkness. Thus, Nature, by these flowers, seems to betoken her loving sympathy with us ; and whom hath she not often more consoled than heartless and voice less men are able to do ? For the Madison Home Journal GEMS OF THOUGHT. Reflection. —The moon in her glory, the earth in her beauty, shine by a reflected light. The enchanting colors that beautify the flowers, and make “the brook almost murmur down the painted landscape’’ are intimately connect ed with reflection. How impor tant then, to have a pure cultivat ed and well storod mind, that our own meditations may be pleasing and useful, and that they may re flect light and joy on those around us! Fiukuty.—True to your promi ses, faithful to perform all our du ties in the several relations in which Providence has placed os. The mother shows fidelity in her love for children. God shows his fiieh We cannot trust one who • - no fidelity. “Be thou faithful unto death.” Benevolence.— This is of God. It shines in the refreshing show ers, whispers in the gentle breeze, flows in the running stream, “sparkles in the diadem of night,” crowns the year with goodness and our lives with blessings.— Wherever there is sorrow, there it would be present with its balm ; where there is suffering, there it sheds its benign and healing in fluence. It is good will to all and all may feel its gracious and ten der emotions. “The heart benev olent and kind the most resembles God.” _____ For the Madison Home Journal. DOGSBOHO, Messrs. Editors: I am now re leased from duties, and think if I a coach-and-six, that I could not recreate better than get in it and take you to the place of my recent sojourn. We would go sev en miles aDd reach a cross road where stands a big shop—our Ex change. This is connected with the christening of the place, but in such an erroneous and scurrilous manner that I reject it and take the true and romantic one. It is said in times past—and I say now —that there were beauties in Dogsboro, so powerful in their charms, that admirers craided to see them—“flung the gazer on his knee.” And a wag whose inind was a mud-hole to shape figures ridiculous, figured them as dogs burrowing, which makes the “what’s in its name.” We could now go on to the mill—Furlow and Few’s—and see it rising pic turesquely near the pond and the dam which roar3 the Niagara of the place. We could get oat and staud upon the new bridge cross ing over by the falls in a Hogarth curve of beauty, and indulge in sentiment and love thoughts kin dled by little Cupid so hot that we would melt and drop, frying, to the water below ; but before we dropped away I would tell you of the cold spring that the thoughts of whose waters could congeal you, & that I could take you to it hid in the grove and set in the hill bright er and more valuable than the “starry diamond in the crown of kings.” And from here to the shoals a little beyond and see them “Dividing and gliding and sliding, And (ailing and brawling and sprawling And driving and riving and striving, And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling: And thumping and plumping and bump ing and jumping. Ah ' hing and flashing and splashing and clashing; And so never ending, but alwavs descen ding, Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar.” And admire the huge rocks lying about like thunderbolts cast by angry Jove at some defiant giant. When we had surfeited upon these, and in this manner, I could introduce yon to some of our citi zens. First, Mr. Furlow, upon the hill to the river, whose word is a gem and whose record is a history or worth in the minds of his ac quaintances. And now, Mr. Car ter and hia boys, living like men and delighting the chamDions of honest poverty; and Mr. Few, res olute, onward, and like Shak speare, can stand proudly by his works; and next, the Messrs. Knott, Tom and John, who have done their part in life, and thrive. Here we will take the left, down the road, as we are again at the crossings, and see Mr. Stovall, an octogenarian without a stain upon his escutcheon, and who has set tled his children around him, or namenting him like a wreath upon his brow, as a poet laureate of the poetry action. And then Mr. Head —Tom—who, like many a poor and penniless boy, has, by untir ing industry and rigid economy, risen from an humble condition in life to a high position of wealth and place. We would here have to stop if I was not ultra in my point and anxious to introduce you to another venerable friend, white with the snows of years that have been verdant and fruit ful with pure good—my friend, Robert Harris, Esq. And I can’t forget Mr. Reese, a little on, go uial and stirring, and who attach ed me to him so much. Rut now we must turn, and back to Mr. Prior’s, a matt of thought, and who watches and prays, and is ev ery way doing his duty ; and last ly, though not least—as there is no least, and as we can’t see all -A- Nation may T>e Governed and yet Toe Free. for the present—Mr. James Sto vall, a most kiudlv, splendid man, “fat and sleek” like those Caesar prefers, and “who sleep o’nights;” and we omitted our ladies, mat rons whose virtues my unhallowed pen is too gross to describe, and angels who shine brighter than stars in the firmament of their charms. John T. Pou. A SNEER. A sneer is a sneer of slander. It benefits the character of one who is willing to wound, and is afraid to strike. It is the devil’s argument. “Doth Job serve God for naught," was his comment up on the fidelity which he conld not deny, and hence desired to depre ciate. Who can contradict a sneer? Who can ward off a sneer? No matter how pure a reputation may be, the sneerer can soil it by uttering a suspicion which ene mies credit, and of which friends are ignorant. It is like a puff of wind which scatters the thistle down and does mischief which the husbandmen can never undo. Men whose hearts ar6 full of mal ice sneer at those whose goodness reproves them, and their words and glances, light and empty as they are, fiy to every quarter, like the breath of pestilence. The shifting winds catch up the vile infection, and multitudes who are poisoned by it are never reached by antidotes. No human charac ter is pure enough to escape a sneer, no reputation can refute it The tongue can no man tame, and malice within the soul will sneer its way out, until mockers and scoffers and all who love to make malice, shall be involved in a common ruin in a day of doom. WHAT TO TEACH BOYS. A philosopher has said that true education for boys is to ‘teach them what they ought to know when they become men.’ What is it they ought to know, then ? 1. To be true—to be genuine. No education is worth anything that does not include this. A man had better not know how to read —he had better never learn a let ter in the alphabet, aud be tiue and genuine in intention and in action, rather than, being learned in all the sciences and languages, to be at the same time lalse iu heart and counterfeit in life.— Above all things teach the boys that truth is more than riches, more than culture, more than any earthly power or position. 2. To be pure in thought, lan guage and life—pure in mind and in body. An impure man, young or old, is a plague spot, a leper who ought to be treated as were the lepers of old, who were ban ished from society. 3. To be unselfish. To care for the feelings and comfort of others. To be just iu all dealings with oth ere. To be polite To be generous noble and manly. This will in clude a genuine reverence for the aged and things sacred. 4. To be self-reliant aDd self helpful, even from aarly childhood —to be industrious always and self-supporting at the earliest pro per age. Teach them that all hon est work is honorable, and that an idle, useless life of dependence on others is disgraceful. When a boy has learned these four things ; when he has made these ideas a part of his being, however young Le may be, how ever poor, ot however rich, he has learned some the most important he ought to know when he be comes a man. With these four, properly mastered, it will be easy to find all the rest. —A. L. Sewell in Horne Arts. A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. [From Iho Charlotte Obaenrer.j In a neighboring county not many miles distant from this place, there lived in the year 183 —an honest and sincere old Dutchman, whom we will call Ja cob Schneider. Jacob was a member of a good Christian church, which was wont, in those days, to conduct its services in the German language. Jacob himself was not much advanced in Murray, and spoke the lan guage with a heavy accent, in fact, read the gospel as printed by the German publishers. The Sa cred Book was called in that lan guage—at least Jacob so denomi nated it—a schrif. The honest Teuton had heard the gospel ex -1 iouinled for many years, aud had requeutly winced under the stern admonitions of the succes sors of the apostles.—The yoke seemed to him a little galling. It must lie noted, however, that though not much advanced in the school* of literature, hi* mind, by MADISON, GA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1878. force of circumstances, being about the time of the Texas revo lution, had expanded beyond that of most men’s in that neighbor hood. He had reflected much on sacred subjects, and the adapta bility of the scriptures to the wants and conditions of men. He had arrived, by dint of hard thought to conclusions which he desired to annonnee on the first fitting occasion. Therefore, on one day, when a congregation had assembled for divine worship, Ja cob addressed them in the follow ing terse and earnest manner: “Brethren; I haf a few words to say. I does dink de abostles of de old dimes was very shmart men; but dey did not hnder shtandt what suited depeebles off de bresent day. I does derefore rnoof dat haf some new abostles abbointed to write anew schrif und pring it more nearer unto de peebles of de bresent day. And as for de men, dey ought to be shmart men und fit for de pisness. I vood nominate, for one abostle my son Beeter, who is mighty goot at engrafing a tomb stone. He vood make a wery good abos tle. I dinks dat my neighbor, John, who is wery explite in de German and de English tongues, he vould make a wery goot abos tle.” At about this po nt of the old man’s speech a sadden and unac countable panic fell upon the con grega on and they scattered. Whether they ever reassembled, whether the apostles were ever appointed and whether or not the new book was written, the repor ter cannot tell. It may be that it was written and deposited in the sacred archives of the nop old church. If so. it is to be hoped that the antiquary may yet bring it to light. It may be ad led that Jacob passed out of life at a good old age, and Peter “engrafed” his tombstone. DICK TURNS THE TABLES. A SOCIALIST IN THE FULLEST SENSE OF THE TERM —HOW HE OIITAINED A DRINK AND A CIGAR WITHOUT COST. In the inner room of the court sat the two great minds of the Toombs Police Court—Dick the messenger and the fat little Ger man janitor. For want of anything better to do they were chewing straws, and Dick was surveying with melan choly pensiveness the departed glories of his gaiters, which even the most barefaced liar of a shoe maker would no longer warrant to hold water. ‘Oh, why wasn’t I born rich in stead of good looking ?’ exclaim ed Dick, picking up a fresh straw from the floor. ‘Doan make such shtale re marks, Mmder Dick,’ said the jan itor. ‘Pesides, why do you vant t® be rich ?’ ‘Well, that’s a good one. May be you don’t want to be rich?’ ‘No, I doan want to be rich. You needn’t laugh ; I dells you de truth. I doan want ter be rich, nor ter become rich. Pecause why ? Pecause I can get along much petter, live easier, drink more pier dan if I vas rich ; in short, pecause I am a socialist.’ ‘And does socialism put any money in your pocket ?’ innocent ly asked Dick. ‘No, no ; socialists only work for de glory. Dey doan want no money. Deir geed is— ’ ‘Creed, yon mean,’ interrupted Dick. ‘Oil de same. Der greed is that wbat pelongs to anybody else pe longs to dam as veil. What’s yours is mine. If you got a dol lar, dat’s mine as veil, and dere fore we divide. If yon got a mil lion, dot’s mine too ; if you got a carriage, I have got a right to dat to ; if you go to a restaurant and git somedings to eat, I have as much right to dat dinner as yon have, if I doan got any money. Doan you see?’ ‘Oh yes. So, if the man at the corner grocery has liquor, and I have the mouth to pour it in, then he must share with me. Is that it?’ ‘Exactly.’ •Well, that isn’t so bad.’ ‘You see, efery rich man is your prother. He must share unit you. What’s de use for you to pe wch ? You’ve got him, he must look out for you.’ ‘But wbat when be is rich no more —when he has divided with all his brothers ?’ ‘Oh, you wander from der ques tion, Mishtor Dick. 1 haf always found dot you Irishmens never stick to der ouestiou.’ ‘That’s wuat the cook said to the turkey, lie asked the turkey ; how it would like to tie cooked at -1 ter it was killed—fried or broiled. The tnrkey said it didn’t want to be killed at all. Oh, you wander from the question, said the cook, and he killed it.’ The little janitor looked contem tnouslv at Dick. ‘Come over and have a drink,’ said Dick. ‘There’s nothing go ing in the court just now.’ They went. They had drinks and cigars. ‘Now,’ said Dick, lighting his cigar. ‘I was thirsty, and also wanted to smoke. You’ve got the money. You’re my brother—you are a socialist—now you pay for the drinks.’ ‘But didn’t you ask me out?’ ‘I know. But 1 haven’t got any money and you have. What’s yours is mine. Therefore you pay?’ The janitor paid. ‘Dot vas der last time I efer dells an Irishman anydings more,’ said he, as he walked back to the court room, giving the Thomas cat a sociable kick to arouse him from his dreams. AUNT HANNAH. Her Sad Experience at a New Faugled Revival. •Baltimore Bulletin ] Aunt Hannah is an old colored ! woman in South Baltimore, who has made her living for years by selling pies, grnger cakes and ap ples at a little street stand. She prides herself on being “an old fashioned darkey.” She is about sixty years old and came original ly from the Eastern Shore, to which place she means to return ultimately in order—to die. She may be recognized by an im mense bandana handkerchief which she wears on her head in the form of a turban, by her coal black face and shining teeth, and by her extraordinary neatness and pnuctilious courtesv. The other day a gentleman who does busi ness in South Baltimore, and who has patronized her for yeara, stopped at her stand, as he’often does, to buy an apple. “How’s business, aunt Han nah?” he asked. “Poorly, chile,” she replied shaking her head sadly. “How’s that ?” “Well, sah, the gentlemen like you is about de only customers I has now. Dese niggers about heah is gettin’ too high-toned.” “Too high-toned ?” “Yes, sah. Dey say dey can’t buy from me bekase I isn’t quali ty—l isn’t dere style.” “Why aren’t you their style ?” “Well, I tell you, massa; you see, its nil these here rewivals. Yon see I’s a church member, and I believes in ole fashion shoutin’ like we had in de good old massa’s days. It ’pears like shoutin’ does me a heap of good ; sort o’ makes ma warm all over. Bat they won’t allow shoutin’ in our church no mo’. When I heard dat I ups, I does, and I says to the preacher; “Whar do you git dat from, any how ?” ‘Mrs. Bramble,’ he says— ‘l ain’t no Mrs. Bramble,’ I says, T’s old Hannah.’ ‘Aunt Hannah,’ hesays, ‘don’t disturb da harmo ny of de meetin.” I says to him, says I. “What’s I got to do with de hominy of de meetin’ ? A!! I wants is to holler at meetin’, jnst as I always does.’ He says, ‘it isn’t considered de thing any more annt Hannah, to shout at meetin.’ ‘Go loDg, chile,’ I says, and lef him. De next Sunday in meetin’ when de time come for goin’ to de mourners’ bench, I seed all de high-toned darkeys a settin’ as quiet as mice, lookin' jest like de white people does in dere church. So I ups, I does, an’ begins to shout. Dey all look as if dey’d nebber heard such a thing before. One young gal hid her face be hind her fan and laughed. ‘What you laughin’ at?’ I says, ‘yon sas sy’— but I ’membered de mourn ers’ bench and stopped.’ De preacher looked at me wid de white ob his eyes and says, ‘Sis ter, don’t disturb de hominy of de mectiu.’ But I keeps on shoutin' an' de folks all around looks os if dey was skeered. Birne by de preacher says. ‘Will somebody remove de sister from de church?’ And, massa, dey took me and put me ont! I bad a mind to grab ’em, but I rasseied wid de debble an’ I beat him.” “What sort o’ revival’s din?” I said, as dey was carryiu' me out. Dey looked at each other and laughed, and told me 1 was old fashioned, wasn’t quality, hasn’t any tone. I hasn't been to meet in’ since an’ all my customers is a dronpin’ off one by one.” “Well, what are you going to do about it, iiauualt?” “I kaiu't say, in**** , but—if I catches one o’ dem high-toned gals about heah, aud kin lay my hands on Iter, I'll show hor what an old-fashioned rewival is,” SHARP LAWYER CAUGHT. One of those shrewd, sharp and saroastic lawyers of that class who take demoniacal joy and unspeak able pride in twisting a witness in to a labyrinth of difficulties, had occasion some time ago to cross examine a gentlemen of some lit tle prominence. The sharp law yer managed, after much skillful naanceuvreing, to so confuse the witness that the only answer he could obtain to his question wan, ‘I don’t recollect.’ When the lawyer lmd had this answer returned to him a score or so of times, his patience gave out. ‘Tell me, Mr. J.’ he exclaimed with biting sarcasm, ‘do you ever remember anything?’ ‘I can,’ was the response. ‘Can you carry your memory back for twenty years and tell me a single instance that happened then ?’ ‘Yes, I think I can,’ returned the witness, who had gained some composure. ‘Ah!’ exclaimed the lawyer, glee fully, rubbing his hands in ortho dox legal fashion. Now that is consoling. What is this instance which you remember so well ?’ ‘Well sir. I reinember that twenty years ago, when yon were admitted to the bar, your father came to me to borrow thirty dol lars to buy you a suit of elothes that you might make a presenta ble appearance at commencement and I have a distinct recollection that your father never paid that thirty dollars back to me. Confusion changed hands at this point of the proceedings, and the lawyer dismissed the witness without more ado. DEVOL’S ESCAPE. “The closest place that I was ever in my life,’’ said Devol, “was in ’SO. I was coming up the riv er from New Orleans on the steamer Fairchild, and had won a great deal of money. The boat landed at Napoleon, and about twenty-five of those killeis there, who in those days did not think any more of killing a man than they did a rat, got aboard. I opened ont and won a great deal of money, and four or five watch es. Everything went along smoothly enough uutil about four o’clock m the afternoon, when they began to get drank. Oue of them said : ‘Where is that damn ed gambler? I’m going to kill him.’ ‘l’m with you,’ said anoth er. ‘I, too,’ said another. And the whole party rushed to their state rooms, and got their pistols. I slipped up, and got bet ween the pilot-house and the roof. They searched the boat from stem to stern, but did not think of looking under the pilot-house. 1 whisper ed to the pilot t-ht when he came to a bluff bank to throw her stern in and give mu the word, and I would jmnp off. At about six o'clock he gave mo the word, aud I ran and jumped. I was weight ed down with tha watches aud gold I had won, and the distauco wan more than I thought, aDd I missed the bank and stuck tight waist deer>, in soft mud at the water’s edge. The killers saw me and as the boat swung ont they opened fire on me. I oould not move, and the bullets whistled past my ears and spattered mud and water all over my face. I had given the pilot one hundred dollars in gold and he threw the boat out, so that I was out of sight very quick.” The Path of Rectitude. —lt has been said that some daring explo rer has just discovered some grass from the ‘path of rectitude,’ and we are not at all surprised at the discovery. The path of rectitude is traveled by so very few people in these degenerate days, that the grass must grow in great exuber ance. In fact, the path itself if al most obliterated. There was a time when it was called a great highway: but the cunning open ed a track of policy beside it, and the world has generally preferred its greater smoothness to the rug ged hut more wholesome route maintained by the upright. Seven Wonders. —The seven wonders of the world were the Pyramids of Egypt, the Pharaohs of Alexandria, the Walls and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, the Htatue of the Ulympiau Jupiter, the Mausoleum of Artemisia, and the Coliossus at Rhodes. How to lose flesh : Htart a meat market and trust every one that comes along. ■m me •—- bio *ll service is true servVe whne it lasts. Of fri*u<i*, howev er humble, acorn not oue. Two Dollars a Year in Advancb LITERARY NEWS. A Great Book House. —One of the cheapest bookstores in the world is that of T. B. Peterson it Bros., 306 Chesnut St., Fhiladei* phia, Pa. They publish the writ ings of Mrs. E. D. E. N. South worth, Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, Mise Dupuy, Mrs. Warfield, Mrs. F. H. Burnett, Mrs. Ellen Wood, Geo. W. M. Reynolds, Sir Waiter Scott Capt. Marryat, Henry Cockton, Eugene Sue, Gaorgo Sand, W. H. Ainsworth, Frank Farleigh, T. A/ Trollope, Mrs. Dorsey, Caroline Lee Hentz, Charles Dickens, : Charles Lever, Wilkie Collins, Al exander Dumas, Samuel Warren, Fredrika Bremer, ElleujPickering, Mrs. Grey.SMrs, Newby, GustaTe Aiinard, C. G. Leland, George Lippard, Emerson Bennet, Miss Pardoe, T. S. Arther, W. H. Her bert, G. P. R. James, and many other popular writers, as well as “Peterson’s Dollar Series of Good aud New Novels,” and “Peterson’* Sterling Saris* of New and Good Books,” and “Peterson’s Square 12mo Series,” sud they would eall the attention of all book buyers tti the fact that they are now pub lishing a number of cloth and pa per covered books in attractive style, including a series of 25 cent, 50 and 75 cent novels in new style covers. They are new and cheap editions of the works of the moat popular English and American authors, and are presented in ati attractive style, printed from legi ble type, on good paper, especial ly adapted for all Look stores, gen eral reading, hotel news stand*, and railroad sales, and are fur nished at such a low price that they will meet with a ready sale wherever properly introduced. In fact, all of the best books by the best uuthors can be obtained of Messrs. T. B. Peterson <fc Bros., Philadelphia, Pa., and retail and wholesale orders will be filled at lowest prices, as all their book* are sold at prices to suit the times. Send for their catalogue. Pro it the American Register, published in Paris : “Amongst the interesting items of literary intel ligence in Paris at the present time, it may be mentioned that Madame Durand, better known to the world of renders under the name of Henry Grevilie, has made a contract with Miss Helen Stan ley, a correspondent of the New York Evening Post, whereby she will hereafter translate all of Hen ry Greville’s novels from the orig inal mauascript in Freuch, into English, for their publication in America simultaneously with their appearance in Paris. By this ar rangement they will retain all their flavor. Miss Stanley having both the ability and the conscien tiousness requisite for doing them justice. She has just finished translating ‘L’Aimee, or a Friend/ and the manuscript of it has been forwarded from Paris to T. B. Pe terson & Bros., Philadelphia, who will publish it in America, simul taneously with its appearance in Paris, in uniform style and price with their editions of ‘Sonia,’ ‘Sa veli’s Expiation,’ and ‘Gabrielle/ by the same author issued by them. The Beene of the story of ‘L’Aimee, or a Friend,’ is laid in Paris, at the present time, and shows eminently Henry Grevilie’* great talent for analyzing charac ter. She draws her pictures in * way she possesses above all oth ers, and this story of French home life in Paris will tench many hearts as it shows how the love of a true and good woman will meet with its reward and triumph at the last. Had Henry Grevilie never written another work, this one alone would establish her fame. Thou shalt cherish thy father and thy mother. To honor father and mother is better than to wor ship gods of heaven and earth. If a child should carry father and mother one upon each shoulder, for a hundred years, be would not then do more for them than they have for him. - m A beautiful smile is to the coun tenance what sunbeam is to the landscape. It embellishes an in ferior face sud redeems an ugly one. Give bread to a stranger, in the name of the universal brotherhood which binds all men together un der the common Father of Na ture. 1 don’t like to talk much with j people who al ways sgree ynth me. It is amusing to coquette with an echo a little while, Imt one soma | tires of it. Nothing does so (<>ol a man a* Tbia doth make them fools which otherwise are not, and show them to he foot* j that are not. NO. 40.