Newspaper Page Text
THINGS THAT NEVER DIE.
It never rti©*-* mother'd holy Hive
tStrenrtbens with every ill that may betiito;
In ©very yhtw* of life ltd water* move
With oitrtmt strong, and futhoml *ss and
wide.
From the heart * altar other flame* any rle,
And wtaHo they aoem a* warm an I grnr.l,
and hl*h,
Tl> tnoens© of one Uvea to rem-h the nkio*—
A mother * tender love cau never die.
They never die—the aotigs oAt her day*. V
Th© unstrung harp* nltoPVver©d o'er wPh
dust. '
Ajh* In sera© rambling *top<Mouae laid nwav
With many other w reek a of love and trust.
At eventide, when all uround l* stl 1,
Raeh harp throw** off the du-tt with gentle
sigh.
And video* long sine? hushod our <*humU i*j
fill
With songs of other ut and
It never die*—th - mnrao#of a wrong
Done to an lunocont and trusting heart;
Though outwardly t *conu*th wellamThtrtu r.
A pain i* there which nevi r can depart;
Time o’er th* *p* t itmy weave k fulr new skin.
And every trace la* htddon from the eyo,
But all the agony I* cloel within.
And wmindatuu* healed are never knowjj
to die.
They never die—the kindly deed and won!
Given to the needy-M irhfcut pomp or pride;
♦iooner or lafet fh‘ vAa>aioneii reward
Who pass not over t*rfW other side:
And crumbs thus east upon tho mm of life
May not return as man is sailing o'er,
But wnen he reata from ifironY ntvl strife,
He'll had the loaves upon th-* other ahoru..
It aever dies—the bow of promise set
t In every landscape, bo it bleakOcfair.
Xbcre's hope for all upon lit ’a bi'llaw yet.
For God s own hand had plaet*kvhc lokeii
there;
Though overwhelming storms of wind and
rain w'
< haae every *uutx*Jm front (■ pilgrim's
sky. v V
After much peril 'twill gleam forth again.
For rainbows c >rm* snd go, butjjpvendie.
They never die—the and sun
Have shone upon the wicked and th • just
Since (bait most glor.ous handiwork was
'lone,
Aud men urn*© so mighty from the dust:
w * Mfn w *‘ 'dose our eyes upon this world,
To open them in Hoftvou by and by.
The same blue banner there will la* unlurlcd,
ith suu, and tnoou, aud stars, ttiat never
die
—3fm A;. u, .Jewel, In Cambridge (.\f ***. TrsV
unf.
HOW WE HOYS TKIEO IT.
“Bill Bray ton's father came oue
spring and rented a farm near us.
>at her said we’d better not hare
much to do with ’em at first, till
we found - out what sort they
were, but they (Tot so neighborlv all at
once we couldn't hel|> it very well.
They came ’most every day to borrow
something, and then if they didn't bring
It back and the. ’most always didn’t
—1 used to have to go for it, so l saw a
good deal of Ned ami Hell.
“They hail a cousin that came out for
awk in harvest time, lie was in bus
iness in New York, and wore light col
ored plaid clothes. He Was very socia
ble, 100, anil would come around about
lunch time ju the hay field, and would
eat with us as free as unytli'ng, which
neemej vary good of him whe i you’d
hear him talk of his hotel in the city,
lie was very fond of the plums and
harvest apples, too, and praised up
everything we offered him, hut did say
that as for him he had no teste for
farming. The city was the place for
boy* of spirit. And the Hravton boys
thought so, too, and said the, had no
taste for farming, and they meant to
5c t into the city as soon as they could.
,nd when I came to think it over, I
really began to see that 1 had no taste
for farming either. And I tho ight it
strange that father and mother had
never concerned themselves to find out
what my tastes were, for I had read in
a book that it Is a solemn duty for pa
rent* to study the tastes of their chil
dren. aud that their success in life de-
] lends a great deal on such things.
“Tom lily —that was the city chap's
iiatpn—had a lot of splendid little book?
pn lent the Brayton Inns, and they lent
'em to me and told me not to tell. Th y
were regular rip-roaring storl s, / let'
you ' —all ah ut lights, and scouts, and
death struggles, and dark mysteries,
and hold adventures. The fellows in
them were so brave that one of’em
would think no more of riding up to a
lot of fellows, aud stubbing one and
shooting two or three with his revolver,
and knocking down another with it.
and putting spurs to his horse and gal
loping off' in a jierfect hailstorm of bul
lets. than of eating breakfast
“Bill Brayton thought he'd try being
one of these heroes out on the plains,
and come back in a few years rich
owning a cattle-ranch and no end of
go'd mines and things. But Nod Bray
ton aud I thought we and go into business
in the city, like Tom lilv.
“I sjaike to father about it. He
laughed when I toid him of mv tastes,
end said I didn't know when I was well
off. That is just the way the fathers in
the books did—‘keeping your lives
crushed down by uncongeuia.l surround
ings’ they called it. And Bill and
Ned's father said he hoped they’d
grow up to something better than such
a hand-to-mouth life as Tom Bly's.
** So it was very easy to see how the
•>oys in the books had been driven to
run away from their homes. We talked
a great deal about it. and mado up our
ininds that if we wanted to have any
thing of a carter, we most run away.
"It was an August morning very
early when I tiptoed down stairs in my
stocking-feet. As I passed mother's
door f did wish I could have wished her
good-bye, and told her how Id remem
ber my promise to her never to smoke
or drink a glass of beer till I’m twenty
one. (She th nks. you see, that if a
fellow lets it alone that long, he'll have
sense enough to keep on letting it
alone.) I almost felt like giving it up
when I knew she'd feel badly about it;
l m I'd left her a not'* telling her I was
rust going to New Yor; to make mv
fortune, and I’d w ite to her. And I
thought of all the splendid things I’d
do for her when I got to bo agre it mer
i haul, and so 1 s'olo into the parlor and
got a card picture of ray two little sis
ters and wrapper! it up (there wasa t
any of mother) and went on. We had
three miles to w ilk to the railroad sta
tion.
•• 'No more milking cows or piling
wood or < Topping corn or plowing—,
Hurrah!' shvi Kill, as we ratt ed along
in the cars.
"Each of us had money enough to
take us to New York, and a little over.
We found it a sight better to be flying
along that way in the fine morn ng
than to be turning out fo'a day's work.
We were goiDg to look for Tom lily—
he bad told us all to be sure to ome
right to him if ever we came to wn,
and we thought it bkelv be could find
places for us at once either in h ; s own
business or among his friends. As we
walked along the handsome streets, we
couldn't help won lering bow soon some
mch splendid stores might belong to us.
“ Bill bad Tom Bly’s address- -be was
a groeer —and we soon began to look
for him. The street they told us to go
to didn’t look so nice as w e thought it
would. But at last we found Tom Bly's
store, and that didn't look nice at all.
We went iu and looked for him 1 was
lookieg lor the plaid clothes: for I'd a
known ’em anywhere but I couldn’t
sco ’em attd nobodr seemed to know
about Mr. Bly. But *oon Bill sung out.
t jjeUo T’o '-and l taw ft wuguu drive
<£l)c' (Sprite.
m- IX.
ap and Tom was driving it'. Ho hadn't
A the pla'd clothes an(t hediadn't any
Boat or collar on. and he didn't seem so
>®ry glad to See us. ' i ’
•• ‘Well Tom.’ Hill said.
are, yon see. We're in dor it. RoMjT
to ha' e you got us into something right
off —‘jos as you said, you know.’
•“The old scratch yoi| are!' said,
Tom. ‘You haven't b.e.tm Mich fools uV
to dome ’way dowlrhyiyi lor work, have
ymi?’
‘Vlsn't that what you told us?'
“ vWell -may be I did. just to he po
lite, Put I'm blessed if 1 thought boys
as well kept you come pokin'
down her*: \uorh folks
a"ready t ban's wanted. Wliare Ilford's
one situation tinge's tenteMows a'ler it.’
“This was* nv s yumjerfifl'ti\ke down.
Wo thought hVd ask* Us.st'iS jpe to his.
hotel, but he didn't. Wo said wVo*
stroll ’round a little, am} /We strolled,
'round; and wo asked in some places if
they wanted a t oy, but nobod \ seemed
to want any boys. We wentjnto a park
to eat all We had left of thefinuch we'd
brought from home. f
"Ho off there—you rasealsF’ some
one shouted, and the first thing we knew
a big policeman was hustling; us out,
and telling us if we ever set a foot there
again we’d bo locked up.
“ Ail for going on the grass!
‘••There's lots o’ grass to home,’
whimpered Neil. Ned was smaller u
me :ml Hill. * Let’s go-home, i-suy!’
“We laughed at him, but not very
hard. Hill said lie was going to start
for the plains to-morrow, going to work
tits way out soArnow. Wo Wig it hack
to Tom lily andfasked him ’if lie knew
where we cotTld sleep, and ho s' posed
they’d take ua in where he slept, if we
hau any niomw.
"We ail thought it would be very
grand to put up at a city hotel, but it
wasn’t. There wasn’t half enough
Slipper, and the beds were awfully
crowded up in one room. In the morn
ing a man came along and styd we w ere
to pay thirty Cents each for our supper
ami ottr beds. • ■
“Me and Ned had giw'ji Hjjl out
money to take care of. litemd’ 1 a few
cents, because lie was thd*lug>|est. And
now he felt in bis pockets arid it was
gone! He felt an;l felt, and then he
hollered out:
“ ‘l’ve been robbed! Thieves!’
“The man swore at him, and asked
him if he meant he’d been robbed there,
he took all the money me and Ned had.
and then behave Bill" a kick ynjd told
him to be off.
“Tom Hly gave us a Jot of crackers
at his store, and said w e’d better go
home. Hut I was too much ashamed,
and thought I’d try yet to get work. 1
walked till I was footsore, and all the
work I found was carrying a parcel, and
I got ten cents for it and bought n loaf
of bread. Hill said he w'as going to the
depot to go West. Ned went with him,
and w hen night came 1 waited till it was
dark, and then 1 sneaked into a pretty
yard where there was trees, and crawled
into a hummock there ami fell asleep.
“I woke very early, and saw a gen
tleman in the yard looking at me. 1
was afraid he was going to have me
taken up for going on his grass, ami I
jumped up. The liaramn -k stuck to one
of my buttons, and I didn't wait, but
tore away from it and ran away without
my hat. The gentleman called me to
stop, but 1 jumped over the fence and
ran as hard as I could a great way, till 1
was clear out of breath.
“When I stopped to see where 1 was,
a boy came rushing up to me aud suvs
1e: “Isn’t this your pocket-book?”
Then he ran away. I thought at first
it might ’a’ been mine that was stolen
but in a second I saw ’twasu’t. and 1
hollered after him to tell him. But he
didn't stop, and whilo I was looking at
it and seeing 'twas a very handsome
one, two men ran up and took hold of
my arms. I says:
“ You lo' go me, now!’
“ But they says: ‘ Come along, mv
fine fellow, and they snatched the
pocket-hook and went to hauling mo
along. There was a crowd ’round me
in a minute. ! kicked and fought at
I 'em, but they held me tight, and they
slipped some iron things on my wrists,
and there I was -jerked along that
wav, and a big lot of tors hollering
after me! They took ire into a grea
building and locked mo up, and I
didn't know what ’twas for moie'n the
dead •
“I lay down iu u error and won
dered if I’d ever get oat. and if I’d
ever see home again. I wondered what
mother’d say it she could see n.e. I
wondered what they were doing on the
farm. Altera great while they took
me out.
“‘Where you going to take me? 1
said.
“ ‘Before the magistrate.’
“ Then folks came and told how last
night I’d stole a pocket-book trom a
lady, and they'd been tracking mo ever
since, an l just found me with the
pocket-book in my hands. I broke
right out, and told how the fellow'll
given it to me, but they made me stop
till they’d ex.,mined a lot o’ witnesses,
and they all said I’d stole it. Then
they let me toll how I'd slept all night
somewhere else, but they wanted me
to bring someone to say if it was so,
and wouldn’t believe me when I told
’em it was the solemn truth. Just then
I saw the gentleman standing in the
door that had seen me in his hammock.
I hoped he wouldn’t see me, for 1 was
afraid he’d come to see about getting
me punishod. But he did see me, and
came up to me. He took a button out
of h’s pocket, and laid it againrt my
coat. It had a bit of the coat hanging
to it that I had tore out when I ju nped
from the hammock, and it just fitted in.
“ ‘This boy was in my grounds all
night.’ he says. ‘I was up preparing
important papers, and waiting lor tele
gram-. I saw him several times.’
“They asked him some more ques
tions, and then the magistrate says:
‘Thepr.sooeris discharged ’
• ‘Toe gentleman took my nvun and
led we oat, I says to him;
“ ‘Til never do it again, sir. Wit at
you going to do to me?’ Ho laughed,
and.
SUMMERVILLE, GKOHGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 20. 1882.
“ ‘Haven't ydW got astray, my boy?’
*‘l thought fihad the worst way.
you’d better believe! And I toldhim so,
and 1 tola hiui all about it and he
thought I’d homo. I’d given
rtnv eyes to get there that moment, but
I hated to tell h m I lmd no money to
go on, so I told him as I'd come I’d liko
to try doing ‘ something, if I had a
chance. Ho a long look at me,
and said perhtu>> thltt would lie the
.best. Jfid said he'd write to mv father.
“He was a rdal good friend tome.
He talked lots to me, and got me a
situation. They told me they never
paid mtielWo grata .hands. I slept un
dljgaigpiiter. and got enough to pay my
hoatOau I Ylitlle over ' 1 ran errands,
ant} ''W i'l’t 'and scrubbed floors, and
‘worked luii'ijer'n ever I’d done ill my
life. yMy clothes got shabby, but 1
saved up everycent.
\ "And on T'lumksgivlng day 1 got a
-lolldav, mid then I told the loss I had
Jin taste for the city. And 1 took the
early train for home.
“As 1 got oft' the cars to walk home a
train came in front the other way, amt 1
saw a lanky-looking chap get off. I
didn't know him at hist, uud thou 1 saw
it was Bill.
"Justgctlin’ home?” said he.
“Yes.’ said I.
“l aid \ our wav?” !
“Yes.’
“ ‘You’vs done better'n tne,' says he.
‘l’ve Icon as fur as Indians, and I’ve
been down with the chills ami-fever six
weeks, and someone wrote to father !or
money to semi me home.’
“ ‘Where’s Ned?’ says 1.
“ ‘Home. He started to walk ha k
that day I started West. Footed it all
tho seventy miles ’eept lifts he got!’ 1
found father just putting up the horses
af er they’d got home from church. I
went un to him and says I:
“ ‘Ho you want to hire a boy, sir?'
“Ho dropped the halter on the barn
floor, and grabbed hold o’ both my
hands and looked into my eyes.
“ ‘The Lord bless you, Sammy,’ says
he, ‘we’ve all been looking for you.
Well yes, I do want a boy —if 1 can
get one that lias a taste for farming.’
“I shouted out: ‘l’m the boy!’ and
then I rushed in and got my arms
around mother’s neck, and nearly made
her drop the great big turkey she was
just getting out of the oven. I guess
’twas some time before she or the little
g rls know whether tliov were laughing
or crying, and then father came in and
if 1 hadn't been a boy I’d a hardly
known either when I told ’em how
sorry I was I’d given ’em so much
trouble, and how glad I was to get back.
“ I tell you, boys, if there’s anything
to be tbankftiller for on T hanksgiving
than anything else, it’s for having a
heme and having achanoe to sta. there.
"Me artd Bill and Ned thinks there's
lots o’ worse work than plowing or
feeding stock or digging potatoes, or
doing anything we’re likely to do on
any farm ” — Sidney Vai/re, in N. Y.
Examiner.
The Later Geography.
Q. Where arc the I’olos loonted?
A. At the school-house, town hall or
some empty store.
Q Wliat is a circle?
A. A gathering whore the gossips
sew for the heathen and tell all thoy
know.
Q. —What pianos havo noon at the
same time?
A. Factories and boarding-houses.
Q. —When are the nights tile longest?
A.—When you cannot sleep.
Q. —Is there a plain inyour neighbor
hood?
A.—Wo should think not by tho way
outs is borrowed.
Q. —What disadvantage in having a
bar ut the entrance of a harbor?
A.—lt would take away trade from
the saloons in port.
Q. —What is a strait?
A—Five cards following in order of
denomination. (Hoyle.)
Q, —Where do we iittd the largest and
fiercest animals?
A.—At the menagerie.
Q. -Where do we find tho greatest
number of insects?
A.—Out of town on a hot night.
Q. —Into laecsaie we divided?
A. -The Horse race, tho Bo t race
and the Human race.
Q. —How arc the inhabitants of a civ
ilized country generally employed?
A.—The men in working and tho
women in shopping.
Q. —What is mining?
A.—Finding out how much you have
been cheated.
Q. —Name some substances now
manufactured for food?
A.—Oleomargarine and boarding
house hash.
Q. —What is commerce?
A.—Selling your neighbor goods “t
three times their value.
Q. —What do merchants do with
products of the surrounding country?
A.— Gather them together and form a
• corner” in tho market.
Q. —How are the commercial towns
connected with tho towns of the in
terior?
A.—Bv ‘'drummers.”
Q. —What is fishing?
A- Sitting in a boat all day tor noth
ing. and liavung to lie all. the evening
about what you caught, and what got
away. —Detroit Free Freer.
Embroidery Is still largely employed
for dress-trimming, being ued in all
manner of materials, from fine ladies’
cloths to satins and gauzes. Avery
handsome Venetian design is used in
floss silk for trimming cashmere dresses,
the embroidery for the skirt front being
twelve to fifteen inches deep. In white
cashmere this trimming is particularly
effective, and matinees and Grecian
house robes made up with this elabor
ate garniture mingling with its creamy
artistic folds, are the height of elegance.
Made up, those imported robes are sold
for H’£> each, anil in pattern boxes,
ready for the hands of the modiste, they
are rapidly sold for the sum of ninety
dollars. m ,
For evening wear, tan-colored Suede
shoes, trimmed with large satin bows
and buckles of Rhine peohles set with
silver, are considered Very chic; out, un
less the feet are "very small, there are
fears that this adornment will cause
them to assume the appearance of
•' b?eUe-oru#hw>”
How to Hack an Ostrich.
Mr. J. Frotheroc, the young English
man who has In Central Park a herd of
twenty-two ostriches, recently imported
from Bueno* Ayres Ft breeding ill
America, went yesterday morning With
his herdsman, an ebon Capo Towner,
named Johnson, and Atm reporter, to
the deer hut in which the birds are eon
tined. When Johnson opened tho door
he was greeted by n series of sounds
suggestive of tho noise a fi*g
horn.
" That’s wlmt the Dutch natives of
Capo Town call • bromming,’ said Mr.
l’rotheroo. “It expresses the same feel
ing with an ostrich that cooing does
with a dove. I'll show you how wo
pluck an ostrich. Johnson, bring the
stocking.”
The dark herder, whom the binls re
garded with mild-eyed affection, pro
duced a long, white stock ng. He
caught one of the birds by its neck, and
inserted the head and tieek in tho stock
ing. Th ■ result irresistibly recalled the
pictures of Bernhardt iu Bernhardt
glo.es. The blinded bird exhibited
some nervousness.
“This herd have been so long in con
finement,” said Mr. Frotheroc, "that
they are comparatively gentle when the
stocking is pulled over their nocks.
They tight and kick vigorously some
times when they have been aoctufotnod
to tho liberty of a large farm."
Johnson led the bird up to aside of
the hut. against which with one hand**
he held his neck. He held up a wing
with the other hand, while Mr. Frotheroo
held the other wing and with a pair of
shears clipped off a white fealherono inch
from the flesh under the wing. “It,
would not do,” continued Mr. Frotheroo,
“to pull those feathers out. Inflamma
tion mlg]“ set in. We pull out the tail
feathers and those on tho outside of the
wings. One month after we cut off'tho
huge feathers under the wing now
feathers push out the old quills.”
While Mr. Frotheroo was speaking
the long-nocked birds were making
friends with the reporter. One of them
seized his shirt collar, but was frustrated
by Johnson in his attempt to swallow
It. Another tried to gulp down the re
porter's cane, hut finding a stiff neck the
result, desisted.
“If you will stand beh'nd mo,” said
tho young Englishman," we will open
tho door and let the birds out. for their
morning airing. They are dangerous
when let at liberty.”
Johnson pushed back the sliding door
of the hut. “Now,” continued Mr.
Frotheroc, "you will see something
that you have not had the privilege of
seeing in America before.” Johnson
gave a low, peculiar whistle, resembling
somewhat the “bromming” of the birds
as he walked out of the door into the
grassy enclosure. The ungainly bipeds
rushed after him pell-mell. Their
necks were craned out and their mouths
were wide open. They ran about the
enclosure in a break-neck fashion for
several minutes, occasionally bainping
into one another. Then they began
flapping their wings and waltzing. It
was a veritable waltz, and is so termed
by o-trich farmers. The birds turn
rapidly round and round, dipping their
nooks and swaying their liodio, at each
turn. A rhythm that could he set to
music pervades their motions.
"It would lie unsafe to go among
them now, unless, liko Johnson, you
were familiar with them,” said Mr.
Frotheroc. Two of the male ostriches
began to tight at this point. They faced
ea bother with distended mouths, flap
ping wings aud glaring eies. Then
they began a pecking match, which was
followed by some high kicking, for
ward, backward and sidewise. “Whilo
the. are too tough to ho much hurt by
their own kicks, they have been known
to break the anus and legs of men by
them,” said Mr. Frotheroo. The
birds will he taken to California soon.
Mr. Frotheroc thinks his ostrich (arm
ing in America will be entirely success
ful.—N. Y. Sun.
The iiuvie Docks.
The avanl-port, or entrance harbor, is
nearly dry at low wate \ and our ten
der, even with her light draught, stirs
the mud as she proceeds. I tit when
the t do is in, the largest steamers and
sailing ships can safely proceed to the
docks, that have been dug from the
land with an enormous expenditure of
money and muscle The docks and
basins of Havre are all of man’s crea
tion. and owe their oiistenec to Ills in
dustry and perse orance. They are
eight in number, aud a ninth, and per
haps a tenth, will be added before long.
Altogether the existing docks will ac
commodate two thousand vessels, and
by crowding them closely another hun
dred or two might be taken in. The
largest is the dock of the Eure, and it
has a superficial area of fifty-threo acres,
with a mile and a quarter of qifajs The
water in this basin has a depth ot th Tty
feet, and a dry dock opens from it capa
ble of holding any of the ships that visit
the port. Think of the labor necessary
for making this dock and building the
massive walls that form its sides, and
then say if Havre is not deserving of all
her | re'sont prosperity. An older and
smaller dock than this in the Hamn rlu
Commerce, which is generally filled
with sailing ships, and sometimes has
held as many as two hundred of them
without impeding circulation. At one
end of this dock is tho souare named
after Louis XVL, and on pleasant even
ings we will find a dense crowd there to
enjoy the military or other music, and
to lounge under the trees. Beyond the
square and in full view from the dock
rises the principal theater of Havre, and
at the water’s edge is the machinery for
removing the masts of ships or restoring
them to their places. Tho oldest docko,
all is the Unwin du Jioi, or I ienx lias
sin, and it is also the smallest: it was
made in lfi69, and has latterly been en
larged so as to adapt it to the ships of
the present day. It is difficult to ascer
tain the cost of the docks of Havre, as
the old accounts no longer exist, and we
have only the modern figures to guide
us. Within tho la.it twenty years more
than fifty millions of dollars have been
expended on -Utero* and the work is still
incomplete..—Thomas W. Knox, in Har
per's ilac/a tin*.
The London mecttcq.l journals report
tho case of the daughter of the Mayor of
Grsmoke, uoar Bremen, who lias slept al
most unintamiptedly for six months,
“ Haine Nwecf Home."
'•Tom! I say—Tom! Ob. dear me,
where Is that boy now. I wonder! Nev
er'round when you want him! I never
did see the like!”
Thus soliloquized Mrs. VTnaigTft'a,
as she ran about the kitohon. with her
hand* covered with dough aud hor faoe
corrugated with scow la
“Oh. there you nrn, you yonng good
for-nothing!” she continued, as Torn
hove iu sight. “What d’ye mean by
riinuiu’ off lh thU in inner when you
knew well enough that the suttiu’-room
tire was to be bu it, and the nslics sift
ed. and the water to g.t. aud a hundred
other th'iigs to do, and me with my
hnnds iu the dough, and nobody to do
nothin’. You lazy rascal— ’’
“Why, mother," ventured Tom,
“you sent me to buy some coffee—”
“ Yes, so 1 did, but I didn’t tell you
to go mopin’ all the way, nor to be all
day about it, neither.”
“I went just as quick as I could,
snid Tom. with a half-whimper.
“Don't you dare to contradict me.
sarse-box. Your father ’ll hear how
von talk to your mother, young man.
Hero, take that pail and git me some
water, ami be quick about it, too!”
Tom soizisi the pail and vanished, only
too glad to get beyond tho Bund of the
maternal voice
- *‘• Did any one ever see such a boy?”
inquired Mrs. Vinaigrette, appealing to
the mantel clock; but the mantel clock
f made no other reply than “ tick, t'ok,"
or it might have been “hush, hush;”
for the little clock showed not ttftJcast
particle of excitement, its culm white
face beaming out, upon the kitchen and
Upon Mrs. Yinii'gretto ns tranquilly as
ever.
'‘lndeed, it is more than probable that
the unsympathetic conduct of the man
tel clock agzriivato 1 rather than
calmed tho rulnwHtenipor of Mrs. Vin
aigrette.
“ Other people have children that
are helps to their parents." And as
she laid down this proposition she shot
a defiant glance at the mantel clock, as
if she wore saving: “Deny it, if you
dare!"
As the mantel oloikdid not attempt'
to gainsay this apparently incontrovert
ible assertion, Mrs Vina grotto repeated
it by way ot emphasis.
“Other people have chi'drcn that are
helps to their parents; but that. Tom
worries the life out of me every hoiu
in the day. I don’t see how it is that
Tom isn't like other hoys. Lord knows
I work and slave for him from Monday
■namin' to Saturday night, a ivorkin'
and a-diggin’ all tho time -and that's
all the thanks I git for it. And tho
way ho sarses me! Tell n’ mo he wont’s
quick’s he could! No wonder I’m al
most worn out! There's that Charley
White, now! If Tom was only like
him! Ho perlite to strangers and so
'tentive to his mother! She never has
to tell him twice to do a thing Dh,
you’ve got hack, have your” cried
Mrs. Vinaigrette, addressing hor re
marks to Tom, who had |u t. made his
appearance) “there, don't spiff it all
over the floor! All you think of is
makin’ work for your mother. You
needn’t git any more. I'll do It myself.
You'd like to keep mea-moppin' up the
floor all day long, wouldn't you, you
hooilless thing! Come. Slowpoke, it's
time yon was off' to school. No tiuio to
build the sottin -rO"m fire now. You
planned it nicely, didn’t yon? Como,
be oil!”
Tom slunk out of the house in a lialf
melancholy, half-angry mood, and
walkod listlessly towards tho school
house. And he didn’t brighten up un
til ho had arrived the e and heard the
teacher s cheery “Good morning, Tom!”
Then his home trials and troubles were
forgotten in a moment and his face was
bright and happy throughout the fore
noon. At recess his laugh was the loud
est, his voice was the most gleeful and
his limbs the most active in the school
boy sports. Not until ho was nearly
home at close of school did the sunlight
of youth and happiness again become
hidden behind the clouds that had dark
ened his face in the morning.
~ Seems to me it takes you an awful
while to come up home from school!”
was the greeting that reached Tom’s
cars as he en ered the house. “Great
good it is for me to stand ovor a hot,
stove all the forenoon, and have every
thin’ git stone eohl wa tin’ for your
movements! No wonder I’m almost
aggravated lo death! If I don’t go crazy
yet, it’ll be no fault of yours, f ’omo,
set down! Don't be a standin’ there
like a moon calf!”
Toni swallowed his dinner as best ho
could. Every mouthful stuck in his
throat, and lie left tho table as soon ns
possible. But the upbraidings of his
mother did notecase. They continued,
with surpris’ng energy for a woman
whose life was woifiod out of her so fre
quently, until it was time for Tom to
si art for school again, to bo aga’n re
newed, with additions and improve
ments. in tho evening.
Evening brought with it Mr. Vinai
grette, also. Tom was not permitted
to go out after supper. “Boys got no
good in the streets, Tom’s father often
remarked. So Tom was kept in where
he could benefit by parental example.
The evening had one respite, at least.
Tom’s father usually stayed at home,
reading the paper. Therefore there was
little opportunity for Mrs. V.’s exorcis
ing her 1 ngual powers. But Tom’s
father, unfortunately, had nerves, and
as the least movement < n Tom’s part
brought a scowl to h s father’s face, and
quite often a sharp word to Tom s ears,
the boy was in constant and continual
misery, and ho wai only too glad when
he was ordered off to bed, with the in
junction, which took the placcof “Good
night:” “Now, you mind and git up
when you’ re called to morrow mornin’!”
The above is a fair picture of the
average dav in Tom's life. Strange
that Tom isn’t like, other people's chil
dren—Charley White, for iustanco—
and no wonder that Tom smiles grimly
when he hears anvbodv remark:
“There’s no place liko home!”— Breton
Transcript-
—The President of a little Southern
railroad boasts that they have not had
an accident for five years. Wo traveled
over that line once. A trusty flagman
walks ahead of every train, aud when
bo becomes tired the train stops and
the paasengem go fishing until he get#
rasied, —Bkiladtjphio *Yw,
NO. 48.
Christmas Presents.
Christmas Is not tho time for making
Oxpensive presents. Leave thoso for
weddings and birthdays. Tho simpler
the gift, the mor* suitablo, the more
Christmassy, will it he. Weall remem
ber the Eastern tale where the wreath
of flowers culled at even shone, by gome
occult magic, the next morning "in all
tho resplendent hues of precious stones
and ablaze with diamonds. Even so
your little sprigs of holly, your wreaths
of evergreen, that look perhaps homclv
and commonplace the (lav before, can
he converted by tho wotrd charm of
Christmas tide to peerless offering*
moro worthy of acceptance than the
most costly gift* nt any other time.
Christmas is no time to remind your
friends of their infirmities, oven for
their souls’ good. Keep books of ser
mons and moral essays for mote suita
ble occasions.
Do not present a persou who, while
advancing in years, is difigoatly ana
'creditably tr.in’g to preserve intact the
gracei nml charms of her earlier day*,
w th •• I ho EveningotjLlfe, or Consola
tions for the Aged;"' do ot give a
hopeless invalid a convenient traveling
case, or one with failing eyesight a
volume of tantalizing engravings. Those
whose poor fingers'*™ weary with
mothers’ work do ilotftrnd gold thim
bles or darning hags any alleviation of
tlie r daily toil. Tiivo to such some
thing bright antf tastftful to remind
them that life is not al© drudgery, or
they mere drudges. y
In the tHiristmas shopping do
not let the young and happy forgot the
aged and the unhappy. Such value ex
tremely any little attentions, and treas
ure them up wiffi hesrt-tplt I hankffo'ness
■trie dreamed of by have
To wish to recoirji*
In rcmomberingVur fricads our gifts
should bo tho sponuiiiei©poutpouringot
our hearts, not the cold, dry, calcinat
ing result of a debtor and cred.tor
ledger, whereby the claims of society
ami relationship arc satisfied, and
“naught beyond.”
To tho-e whose friends are many and
dollars few, we would commend Christ
inas cards, which are always in good
taste. They oftentimes accompany a
gift, but they can speak very eloquently
when they "are sent by themselves.
Christmas oards are uriioog the vory few
lh : ngi which are lovelv in spite ofbeirig
< heap Some are radiant with a relig
ious halo; some recall summer s birds
and Howors in the midst of winter’s
gloom; others are bright with wiater’s
charm of frost and snow; all are cx
pressive of some sentiment, varied to
an t different tastes. Adapt those you
send to the ideas and characters oi those
lor whom they arc intended. D.aries
nnd cn endars never come amiss to rich
or poor, an Ins in general they com
mand a set price it can not acem mean
to give what Is always the best of its
kind, besides linking yourself in the re
membranoe of another in ea‘ h passing
dav’s record.
'I here nro many exquisite littlo vol
umes in poetry nnd prose of a religious,
contemplative’ nature, bound daintily to
nut the season. These are loiely re
nienibiar.cws for those to whom the very
word Christmas only brings sad memo
ries, who cannot join in the festivities of
the time, yet who might feel hi rt if cn
tirely passed by.
To those of slender means but large
hearts we would also commend, in the
se ec ion o; inexpensive gi ts that a e
always acceptable, baskets and china
wain. Who can resist a basket? Who,
in the country, cun ever see a basket
milkers wagon going by without an
irresistible longing to rifle its contents,
or in ihe e ty pass a basket-maker's den
without ‘‘just stopping in.” VS ho
ever had as many baskets as they want
ed? and who ever had too many?
There are ihe scrap-bnskot and the
gardening-basket, and the Cower and
fruit-basket, and the work basket and
knitting-basket, to say noth ng of baby
baskets, and littlo cliildren’s dear pos
sessions in that way.
Many of these you can ornament
yourself, nnd thus enhance their value,
either with ribbons or crewel-work, or
both together, and thus have a tasteful
present at small cost. As to China tho
tliome is simply inexhaustible. There are
all the quaint little ma olica pitchers and
Japanese tea-pots and cups and saucers
an 1 flower receivers in all sorts of odd
shapes and sizes. Did any woman ovor
express herself as satisfied with the
amount of China she had possessed? If
vou buy such an article yourself, you
look lovingly at It, and think how pretty
it would appear on your ow n buffet, or
in your hanging cabinet, or filled with
flowers on your dinner tabfo, and you
sigh. There is the real sacrifice of
friendship. And it cost only— do not ro
voal the secret; that might kill tho
charm; now’ you have sclocted it, and
relinquished it, too, for tho sake of n
Christmas offering, all tbo wealth of
Aladdin’s lnmp could not redeem it.
Its money value Is sunk in Its sentimen
tal /alue. Indeed, may not this truly
be said of all Christinas giftsP
The tiansforming genii have touched
them with the wand of an enebauter.
You paid that patientyoung man or that
smiling girl so many shillings in money
vulue for them, but once in pour pos
session. henceforth they are priceless.—
Harper's Bazar.
The Dangers of Bnggy-Rldlng.
An editor who probably knows what
ho Is talking about says that buggy
riding is conducive to the tender leel
ings. We don’t, for our part, see how
it could very well help being so. When
a young man in a soap dish hat and
polka-dotted socks drives up in his side
bar buggy in front of the house where
she lives, and she comes to tho door all
ringed out in things which we haven’t
time to enumerate, and trips down the
front step, and tho young man jmt
tosses her into the narrow s at and gets
in beside her, and taps tho horse with
tho whin, while the buggy quivers like
a thing of lite and a joy forever, and the
young man beside bordoesn’t know imt
every minute will he thenextono, why,
we don’t see why buggy riding should
not he the most conducive to the tender
feelings of anything extant. Horso
back ifidiug i cold and distant; buggy
riding is the thing, and tho longer the
ride end the more lonely tfin road, the
better. —Chet k.
PACTS AND FIGURES.
—Recently-compiled statistics place
the death rate from the administration
of ohloroform at one par 1,000.— K. Y.
Sun.
—The provincial immigration agent
states that SAfiOO.OOO was brought into
Manitoba by Europeans only. Ho esti
mates that" Americans brought 12,800,-
000 and Canadians #f>,ooo,ooo.
A German arithmetician has been
calculating tho aggregate number of
combinations In the gamo of dominoes,
and bus shown them to be 284,628,-
211,8101 Two players, plavlng four
games in a minute, would only exhaust
these combinations in 118,000,000 years.
—A year ago a Lnramio plains cattle
man was offered a Utah herd anil ranch
tor $70,000, which oiler was rejected.
Since that the Utah niaa sold $45,000
worth out of the hord, thon sold tho
ranch for $4,1100. efterward pnt SO,OOO
more into tho herd, and then sold it for
$ 140,000. — Chicago .Vein*.
—Boston is the largest market for
boots and shoes in the world. Thoro
wore shipped during 1880 over 2,250.000
i asos of hoots, shoes aud rubbers to in
terior and ooa-twiso ports, tho cases
hold tig from twelve to seventy-fire
pairs per cose, but containing, at a low
estimato, over 50,000,000 pairs. —Boston
Transcript.
—The latest Russian census shows St.
Petersburg and its suburbs possessed of
a population of 027,467 in 10,920 etono
houses. 9,818 that are of wood, and 913
that, are partly both. The city has 75
hotels, 025 restaurants, 1,416 beer rooms.
170 grog shops, 793 ivino rooms. 645
schools and 109,000 ohildrou between
the ages of 7 and 16.
—Ground has been broken fortbe now
Pension Office on Judiciary Square.
Washington. The building is to be 400
by 200 teet nnd 75 feet high, and will
accommodate 1,500 clerks and cost
$400,000. General M. C. Meigs thinks
it-will he finished in two years. It will
resemble one of the old Italian palaces,
but will bo built of brick and Iron.
—lt is said that the old past-office,
which was sold in New York recently
for $650,000, is probably tho largest,
block of down-town property ever sold
in this city at public sale. Tho lot,
comprises 19,800 souare feet The
pfopertjMia* changed hands but three
times in 15$ years. . In 1727 it was pur
chased by the consistory of the Re
formed Dutch Church, for $2,875, and
it remained their property till 1860.
when it was bought by tho Federal
Government for $250,000. —A’. T. Inde
pendent.
Indian Marriage Customs.
Among tho Northwestern tribes of In
ilians innocence Is as markod among
the girls as their color. The impression
that the redgmaidon does not entertain
a high staißßß, of morality Is an error,
for she Is taught, as other girls are, and
grows up with well-devoloped ideas of
fife and a firm resolution to discharge
Its duties. Educated in the faith that she
was ordained to work, she trains herself
to hard labor, and at sixteen years of
age is sturdy and strong, urave against
fatigue and a perfeot housewife. Sho
may not possess Now England notions
of cleanliness, but she takes not a little
prido in her personal appearance, and
in the arrangement of her lodge she dis
plays some crude ideas of taste and a
certain amount of neatness. If she mar
ries a white man she makos him a good
wife as long as she lives with him. Hie
home is her whole comfort and his com
fort her sole ambition. She thinks of
him and for him, and makes it her study
to pleaso him, ami makes him respccti
and love her. She recognizes in him
one of r superior race, and by her dig
nity and devotion endears herself to him
and struggles to make him happy. At|
the agencies of tho upper frontier thous*
ands of men arc employed, and it is nos
an exaggeration to say that the majority
of them have Indian wives and live hap
pily. They are not sought after by this
maidens, for the Indian girl’s custom in
to remain quiet until after tho marriagii
contract is made and the marriage por
tion paid ovor. The husband must havi*
tiie dowry, with which ho must invesl
his prospective mother-in-law before th*
ceremony takes place.
The aspiring bridegroom must b<
well known in tho tribe before hs ca t
hopo to win a wife; her people want t<*
thoroughly understand him, and know
if he oan support, not only her, but all
hor relatives in the event of a pinch. H*
must be a kind-hearted man, with •
temper warranted to keep in any do
mestic climax; and he must have ugoo<|
lodge, and at least a half dozen hora.
If ho be and have all these, he can s
wooing go. Then, selecting a lady, hs
makes application to the mother, and .1$
a council the prieo is fixed upon. If th*
girl is especially pretty her mother wl*
demand a gun, two horses, and a lot o 4
previsions, blankets and cloth. A gua
is valued at SSO, and he must furnish
the material to bring the amonnt op
from SIOO to $l5O. Then he tries t#
beat the dame down, and if he succeed#
he knows there is some reason for let
ting the girl go; if not, he understand#
that he is making a good choice. Th#
courtship is left entirely to the mother.
—Montreal star.
“Oh, How Shiftless 1”
One of tho shiftless ways somo me*
fall into is to use the postal card oi*
which to write important business.
Ihe postal card is all right, an!
indispensable in its place, but when a#
order for goods is scrawled over Its
surface and then written cross-ways it
is no wonder that the receiver gets irt*
dignant and puts tho sender down ai ft
slovenly soil of a follow. Tho ms ft
whose whole stock of stationery consist#
of postal cards doos not carry on, gen
erally, a very extensive business. More*
oi or" tho inveterate postal card sender
gets into the bad habit of still further
curtailing his expenses by using a poiv
cil instead of a pen and ink, and more
over sives his valuable time by not pus
ting any date lino to his csnrd. lift
trusts to Providence that hi messagft
won’t got obliterated, and to the p et
master that he will put the stampool
the F. O. upon the faeo of the earn, sft
that tho receiver will know where t$
tamo from.
In case tho postmaster stamps tli#
name of tho post-office too faintly, of
not at all, as is the case nine times is
ten, the receiver is at sea as to wlii h
one of the ten thousand or more pos4-
otlii es in the country th : s particular
card oanio from. Granting, however,
that tho postmark is logiblo, lead-pencil
marks are usually indistinct, and a dcs-
f crate guess is made as to the contents
f it happens to be a lucky guess, all
goes serenely, but if not. trouble begins,
and wo believe no man is so unreason
able as the man who doos a postal card
business. “Wo pay no attention I*
postal cards” is. a remark now frequent
ly made among businoss firms. Tb#
sooner those nu sanccs are banished
lrom a place and a work in the business
world that they are not sit’tod for, and
wore novor iutimdod for, tho better ft
vtill pe fan pvsnf alas* of bunton*#,