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SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, JULY 11, 1878.
CIILUCII RULES FOR LADIES.
BY JOE POT.
Dross hard all morning, such is fate,
Thou enter church some minutes late.
All oyoswill then he turned on you,
And will observe your bonnet now.
Let humble modesty wreathe your face,
And take your seat with fault less grace.
Let a’l your thoughts be fixed on high.
And re-arrange your cardinal tie.
Think how religion's prone to bless,
And criticise your neighbor’s dress.
Let all your heArt bo filled with praise,
And notice Mis. Migglo’s lace.
Put from your mind nil thoughts of sin,
Ami re adjust your diamond pin.
Think of how good religion proves,
And then smooth out your button gloves.
Catch well tho procops as they fall,
And smooth the wrinkles in your shawl.
Think of tho sinner’s fearful fate,
And notice if your bonnet * straight.
Pray for the influence divine
That lady's basque, mark tho design.
Let tender peace posses your mind,
And criticise that hat behind*
Reflect on Christian graces dear,
A4O fix those curls beside your ear.
Let your heart warm wit h silent prayer,
And view that horrid greeu silk there.
Reflect, upon tho wicked’s ways;
See if your gold chain’s out of place.
Think of tho peace tho good shall find.
And wonder who that la behind.
Think of the burdens Christiana bear,
Ami notice those strange ladies there.
The last words hear with contiite heart,
And fix your pull back when you start.
The Hour Before Dawn.
The latest September days had come in
all their perfection—days when the pure,
cool air seemed like an elixir of life and
youth—when there was the first sugges
tion of tho exquisitely sad days of the
dying summer time in the hazy, red
gold atmosphere that hung silently over
tho hill-tops, and brooded like somo
palpable blessing over lowland and lawn.
Blanche Carroll sat on the low doorstep
of the farm-house, that had been her
home that summer, looking out through
the twilight with wistful eyes that were
blue as heaven’s dome* Thinking—
always thi-king, it seemed to her, since
those other days, rot yet a year had gone
by, when, instead of being what sho was
now, Mrs. Pemberton’s half assistant in
the duties of the family—hall sister,
daughter, friend —whatever one chooses
to call the intimate relation that existed
between them—when, instead of this, she
had been belle heiress, whoso sway was
undisputed, whose reign had been as
magnineiently triumphant as its sudden
ending had been pitifully sharp and
hitter.
Sho had never, in all her eighteen years
of gay, joyous life, known what is was to
have a wish ungratified—a want, however
imaginary, unfulfilled.
There had never been any lack of ready
money; there had been horses, carriages,
servants at the girl’s signal, and trips to
the Continent whenever the fancy seized
her.
Then had come tho terrible financial
earthquake, and a week after Blanche
Carroll had learned from the lips of her
distracted father, thateverthin.g must go,
even to her jewels and laces, and costly
little ele ;ances, so that his name would
riot be dishonored for the first time in his
life.
A week after that day, which had
seemed the moat dreadful of all possible
days, someone had come to her, and
added the blackness of darkness to her
woo by telling her how Mr. Cairoll was
found dead in his office chair—apoplexy
or paralysis—which was not yet decided.
Blanche almost collapsed under the second
blow. Never having remembered her
mother, she had loved her father With
' double intensity. Arid when he was dead
and bu'ied. the world yawned before her,
I with no protecting arm between her and
it—when there did not rem an a hundred
pounds iri all tho wide w i -he could call
her own.
Poor Blanche!
And yet it. was not the very worst. Tho
worst of all was Elmer Westeourt’s
defection, and scores of those whom she
had implicily believed wero best, truest,
dearest—others whose defection hurt her
for the time, but whom she learnt she
j could readily exist without.
But Elmer Westcourt. He had been
; all that wi- most noble, most perfect,
j grandest in masculine nature. To him
she had looked with almost tho rovoreueo
of a devotee to her patron saint.
His physical beauty had commanded
her passionate admiration, his qualities of
mind had called out all her keenest
approbation, and his peculiarly masterful
way had taught the girl for tho first
time in her life, how swoot it was to be
governed.
There had never been an engagement
between them, and yet Blanche had been
so positively sure lie lovod her.
She had seen it in his eyes, time and
again. She had more than once listened
to sweot, suggestive words ho had spoken,
in his low, thrilling voice. She had, with
good reason, built the most beautiful
castles in their future together, ami had
been only waiting his pleasure to speak,
when hor trouble came to her.
And, with all other summer friends,
he, too, had left her, without a word,
without a sign, to think what she chose,
to suffer or not, as tho case might ho.
Then, in her distress, her won ided pride,
her desolation of soul, Blanche had
rushed away from London —away up
among tho cool, green hills of Cumberland
wliero she was not mistaken in supposing
she had one friend left —Mrs. Pemberton,
who, although personally a stranger to
hor, Blanche knew had been a dear,
warm friend in girlhood days of her dead
mother.
And so it came to pass that Blanche
Carroll made her home in the tenant,
farm-house, where, with light womanly
duties, and pleasant responsibilities, she
was bravely striving to forgot her bitter
past and the sound of Elmer Wcstcourt’s
voice and the look in his eyes.
She was thinking of all this as she sat
in the twilight, that cool, breezy Septem
ber night, and into the beautiful blue eyos
had come such a wistfulness and heartsick
woe that dear Mrs. Pemberton, looking
up from her knitting, saw the misery.
“It will never, never do,” she said,
energetically—so much so that her kindly,
emphatic tones brought a sudden dash of
color to Blanche's face. “It will never
and way you allow yourself to brood
on things that you can’t help. 1 am
really delighted to think John will bo
home so soon. lie will take you in charge,
and make you give up these useless
memories, which only scorn to make you
miserable. Such a dear, blessed old boy
as my John is, Blanche, and so handsome I
Why, I confidently expect, it will he a
case of mutual affinity, you and he, unless
ho has lost his heart abroad; this year lie
has been in Germany.
A ease of affinity for her! Blanche felt
a thrill of sick pain Mrs. Pemberton
never imagined her words had caused;
for, although she knew there was a lovo
story entangled somewhere with Blanche's
old life, the girl had been proudly reticent
of particulars, or Elmer Westcourt’s
name.
Mrs. Pemberton talked so much, so
often of her darling, “her blessed boy,”
her only son, John, who, to her, fulfilled
every dream of manly excellence and per
fection. And Blanche used to wonder
often what the quiet home would bo like
when Mrs. Pemberton’s son came into it.
She used to wonder how it would he
possible for her to endure tho presence of
any one who would in any way remind her
of man’s perfidy arid heartlcssnoss.
But if their lives —her life —was to be
invaded by a man. Well, alter a time
she grew to be ashamed of her morbid
cowardice of feeling, and resolved, with
a stern determination that was pitiful,
that John Pemberton—an odd, siren,“th
ful name it was to her—should not inter
fere with tho duties of the quiet life she
J had chosen, and which, although she was
j hardly conscious of it, was leaving its
impression arid discipline on the patience
and nobility of her nature.
Nevertheless, the pain—the very bit
terness of woe—was not removed. Her
father’s death she could, in the ordinary
healing course of nature, have got over.
, Loss of wealth, position, and summer
friends, would, after a time, have been as
a trifle to her.
But Elmer Westeourt's defection! So
long as she lived it would hurt her with
that keen, sick pain, which some women
do suffer —women with great purity and
trust of nature, who can no more imagine
deceit and cruelty in one they love than
themselves arc capable of it. Truly it
was her darkest hour.
To her, Elmer Westcourt would always
he the one who had power to touch her
heart. To her he would always be the
beloved, thougli not the lover—tho one
above all others, although unworthy,
1 strangely paradoxical as it was.
So Blanche tried her best and bra st.
, to enter into Mrs. Pemberton’s spirit of
; welcome for her son. She beautified his
room, that for more than a year had stood
alone in its onocoupaney. She baked
delioious cakes, and arranged toothsome
hills of fare, aad went through tho whole
house, leaving everywhere the impression
of her artistic touch that delighted Mrs.
Pemberton so thoroughly.
“John will appreciate it so, bless his
dear heart. Blanche, I never wanted
1 anything in all my life as I want my boy.
And do, Blanche, make him feel, so lar
| as you are concerned, that you make him
welcome, will you?”
Up in her room, hours after, Blancho
remembered particularly what dear old
Mrs. Pemberton had said about her con
tributing her share towards welcoming
and pleasing the coining guest; and as she
stood beforo the glass, brushing out long,
lustrous hair, that was full of gleams of
sunshine, she thought how far past the
time was when she could boa pleasure
or a pride to any one.
She thought how worn out she had
grown to be, how aged and old-womanish
her fierce, ceaseless fight with fate had
left her, and she smiled wearily at tho
idea of her being even thought of when
John Pemberton came.
I think Blanche really thought it was
so—that she was worn and faded, when,
instead of her old-tiiuc, radiant, sparkling
beauty, sho saw a sweet, subdued, serious
loveliness, which others recognized and
admired, if she did not.
Sho had never, in all her flush of
beauty, wealth, and happiness, made a
fairer picture than hlio looked that day,
after she had dressed for Mrs. Pember
ton’s son’s home-coming.
She wore white, with delicate blue
ribbons, and her lovely hair was piled
high on her head in a golden confusion of
flossy pulls, tenderly rings, und glossy
braids.
It seemed strange to Blanche that sho
could not possibly tako an interest in the
coming cf this gentleman—she who, not
so very long ago, had so thoroughly en
joyed a flirtation, Sho wondered why, in
spite of herself, she was so listlessly in
different, end honestly tri and to catch the
infection of Mrs. Pemberton’s excitement
of joy.
The old lady had put on her best dross
—a rich, rustling silk —to do honor to her
son’s coming; and Blanche thought, as
sho went into her parlor, that she had
never seen a sweeter tableau of placid,
aged beauty, and happy old days, than
Mrs. Pemberton offered, in her lace cap
and gray pull’s, and pale lace lighted by
such glad eyes.
“How your son ought to worship such
a mother!” sho said, with a warmly
graceful little impulsiveness—a character
istic of other days, to which she seldom
gave way now- “Mr. Pemberton surely
does ”
Mrs. Pemberton jumped up from hor
chair at the sound of carriage-wheels at
the door.
“He has cornel Oh, Blanche! But
whatever possessed you to think his name
was Pemberton? Why, John is my first
husband's son!”
And Blanche slipped out of the hack
door as tho gentleman came in the front
one—went away up-stairs again, leaving
mother and son to the sweet sacredricss of
their glad mooting.
In all her life, Blanche had never felt
so lonely as in that half hour she spent
up-stairs, knowing how entirely forgotten
she was. She was not selfish, either, hut
it seemed as if all the trouble she had ever
known came surging its waves of keen
remembrance over her.
She realized as she had never done be
fore how pitiful!) alone she was in the
I world, and then into the midst of the
j ha r wing thoughts, tho tears that L i
; left her lioiirt but had not yet reached her
sweet, sail eyes, into the midst of the
desolation of irer young life, came Mrs.
Pemberton’s voice, quick, glad, exultant,
as she called from tho fool of the stairs;
“Blanche, Blanche, do come down!
There’s a mystery f can’t quite under
| stand. Come here!
And Blanche, half smiling at the dear
j old lady’s pardonable excitement, went
j promptly, to be presented to her son.
Mi Pemberton caught her by both
;,:ti.. to drag her perforce to her pallor.
“It beats uli I e\.-r did hear ol 1 J
, never was so
Just then a tall handsome gentleman
i e:ime through the parlor door, with quick
: - .cei steps, and Blanche looked and saw
j Jiimei Westcourt.
•Blanche Carroll 1 My darling, whom
I thought f had lost until a few minutes
ago! Blanche, my lovo!”
And the girl stood looking at him,
clutching Mrs. Pcuiuei ■ >r. hand ill a
t lee-like grip, that was chiil as death, her
f-eo pale as her dress, her eyes full of
NUMBER 28.
mingled piteous bewilderment, and won
dering doubt, and mute eostacy.
“To think [ never once thought of
telling you that John’s name was West
court! You see, I always call him John,
although Eluier is prettier, and he has an
equal right to it, it being his middle
namo. And to think—Well, I'm elean
heat!”
And Mrs. Pemberton sank down in tho
hall chair, and wiped her eyos and hor
glasses, while Elmer Westcourt took
Blanche in his arms and kissed her, and
huskily explained what sho did not fully
understand till later —how ho had written
to her in the hour of his sudden, impera
tive departure abroad—how hp had sent
her letter after letter, and how he con
cluded sho had done with him.
And they both knew then that
Blanche’s equally sudden removnl from
her old home, and her self-elected retire
ment to the country, had been sufficient
reason why she had never received what
would have changed all her life for her.
But the sunshine waseomeatlast—the
glad, bright sunshine, that was all the
better for the dark wgather that had so
long hidden it. And Blanche’s life blos
somed out anew, under tho radiant in
fluences of love and hope.
Tins SII.KY MARMOSET.
The marmoset is a South American
monkey, about tho size of a squirrel. Tho
silky marmoset of a golden yellow
color, the fur being very soft and silky,
and forming a kind of mane upon the
neck. The feet are fi /c-tocd and havo
sharp claws; the tail is long and bushy,
but* not prehensile, and the body is
covered with soft woolly fur. It iseosily
tamed and makes an interesting and
affectionate pet. It is not so intelligent
as the other monkeys, and its constitution
is so delicato that it easily dies from tho
exposure of even temperate climates. It
is peculiarly sensitive to cold, and likes to
havo its house well furnished with soft
and warm bedding, which it piles up in a
corner and under which it delights to hide
itself. It is very fund of flies, and
will often take a fly from the hand of the
visitor. It has a strange liking for hair.
One;of these little creatures, which was
tho property of a gentleman adorned w ith
a large bushy hoard, was wont to creep to
its master's face, and to nestle among the
thick masses of beard. Its food is both
animal and vegetable in character; tho
animal portion being chiefly composed of
.various insects, eggs, and it may he an oc
casional young bird; and the vegetable diet
ranging through most of the edible fruits.
Cockroaches are a favorite article of
food, and gold fish are peculiarly relish
ed.— Cincinnati Star.
The Sidney (Ohio) Journal says: “Tho
strangest of strango accidents, and ono
which might have led to graver results,
happened at the residence of C. 11. Flinn,
near Houston, last Friday night. Mr. and
Mrs. Flinn, who were but lately married,
were awakened by a noise which they
thought came from under the bed. Sup
posing burglars to be the cause. Mr. Flinn
hurriedly jumped from bed, got a shotgun
and returned. Mrs. Flinn, all excitement,
was just rising, and her right Lot hung
over the bedside. Mr- Flinn, supposing
the moving foot to be the head of the
intruder, who was coining from his place
of concealment, without any ado or hesi
tancy, fired. The wife screamed and the
husband flew about in a delirium. A light
was brought, and Mr. Flinn discovered
that he had shot his wife instead of a
burglar. MeanwliUe the bed clothing
caught fire from tho discharge of the gun
and was soon ablaze, but was quickly ex
tinguished. Mrs. Flinn had a largo part
of her loot torn away, and was bleeding
profusely. It was first thought that am
putation of the whole foot would be
necessary, butil was afterward found that
three toes and a portion of the side of the
foot would suffice. It was ascertained
that no burglor was iu the house at all.”
-♦ **■
Sam, a Kentucky darkey, who was ex
patiating on the merits of a mule he was
trying hard to sell, said: “I’ve know’d
dat mule for free yeah, an’ I don’t tink
a- aoimile would hurt a lam’, ’caause”—
fine blank space indicates where the
recommendation was interrupted, and
Sam forwarded to the other side of the
fence.
U’a Fung gave information to tho au
thorities of Winneuiueca, Nev , that led to
the closing of several opium dens. It is
believed thaihe was sentenced to death by
a secret Chinese tribunal. On the fol
lowing day lie was waylaid by unknown
assassins, who killed him with pistols and
knives.