Newspaper Page Text
TOPICS OF THE DAY.
A Mr. Crawford, who is a member
of the Chicago Trades ami Labor As
sembly, has made complaint to that
organization against tlie action of a
barber shop owner in that city, whc
reduced his employees’ wages 10 per
cent, just before he proceeded to ex
pend SB,OOO in “unnecessary display
in his shop, even to the extent of im
bedding 400 solid silver dollars in the
tiles of the floor to add to the glitter
ing show.” Mr. Crawford says he
wants to see the barbers organizing
for the purpose of opposing such
steps.
The wax plant is now grown on a
large scale in Algeria, and its product
is gradually finding its way into the
markets of the world. The process of
separating the wax is simple. The
fruit, inclosed in a bag of coarse cloth,
is plunged into boiling water, on whose
surface the substance soon floats. The
wax is of the sa ue chemical composi
tion as beeswax, and is likely to be
largely used in place of it. It is stated
that these wax plants may be seen
growing -wild in Pennsylvania and the
Carolinas.
In the heart of Wyoming Territory
is a mountain of solid hematite iron,
with 000 feet of it above ground, more
than a mile wide, and over two miles
in length; a bed of lignite coal big
enough to warm the world for cen
turies: eight lakes of solid so la, one
of them over 600 acres in extent and
not less than thirty feet in depth;
and a petroleum basin which contains
more oil than Pennsylvania and West
Virginia combined, from which in
places the oil is oozing in natural wells
at the rate of two barrels a day. At
least, so says the Butte (Montana) Zn
ter-Mountaiu.
Some time ago Prof. Virchow
brought together the results of an in
quiry into the relative proportions of
the blonde-haired, dark, and mixed
types among the school children of
the German empire. S nee then the
inquiry has been extended to Belgium,
Austria, and Switzerland, an I em
braces nearly eh ven mil.ion c nldren
in its scope. In a lecture at the Ber
lin Academy of S.ience, Prof. Vir
chow now shows that more than 5(
per cent, of i.he school children of cen
tral Europe belong to the mixed type.
The distribution of the purely blond
type, which contributes something
over 25 per cent., and is associated
with unmixed Teutonic blood, is,
rather curious. It is highest in Han
over, where it forms 43 per cent, of
the population, but it is very nearly as
high in the extreme east Prussian and
I’omeraman districts, where history
and tradition locate a preponderating
Slavic element, and points to the com
pleteness of the gradual industrial
conquest of those regions by the
Teutonic race,
A peculiarly ghastly experiment in
furtherance of the ends of justice, has
been performed in Paris. A chemist
named Kel is charged with having
murdered his female servant, whs
mysteriously disappeared some months
ago, and disposed of her body by burn
ing it in a stove. He says that the
stove in question is much too small
to be put to such a purpose. I'o pro e
that it is not so, the prosecution, hav
ing had a fa -simile made of the stove,
asked for and obtained an order from
a Juge d’lnstruction, which was
sanctioned by the Prelect of Police,
for a dead body from one of the hos
pitals. In p s>e .sion of this corpse,
they proceeded to cut it up into pieces,
and fed the stove, which they had
lighted, with the fragm tils. The re
sult, so far as it went, was in confir
mation of the Hieory of the prosecu
tion. In a surprisingly short time the
whole body was consumed, ami nothing
remained but a few ashes. It is ob
vious, however, that the proof thus
afforded of the possibility of the dis
posal of a body in tne manner alleged
by the prosecution, can only lie
materia! if the positive links in the
chain of circumstantial evidence ■
against the prisoner are all of them
thoroughly strong.
The Church of England.
The wealth of the church of Eng- I
land in worldly, not spiritual, goods is
just now receiving considerable atten- i <
tion, but speculation has not much
upon which to base itself, for the rea
son that no one knows precisely wh it
Its income is, except the two Archbish- I
ops, an I they, probably wisely, keep I
the knowledge securely to themselves. <
Some of the most valuable proper yin I
England belongs to the church, which :
has held it ever since it was taken
away from the Homan Catholics by '
II nry the VIII. and b owl upon
the newly created Bisi ops to make ‘
their fealty sure. The Archbishops
of Canterbury, the primate of all Eng
land, has an annual income of $75,000,
in addition to Lam eth Palace, his >
London or city residence. The Arch- I
bishops of York, the primate of Eng- t
land receives $50,000 a year, besides <
two residencesand a large household of i
officials. The tithesof some of the o'her <
Bishops are: London,sso,ft*.'; Durham. <
$35,000; Winchester $3-5,000: Ely, t
$27,500: and Bath. Ln-oiti, Oxford, <
Salisbury. and Worcester, S2S,*XX) i
each I e B -h"p ot Salon and Man, t
who .a- neitbe; cathedral or dean,
gets $lO. ’ a year for doing nothing. .
k.J’orw American Register.
CPnjdte.
VOL. XII.
, The Little Laud. j
) ’ When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it.
I have just to shut my eyes
j To go sailing through the skies.
* To go sailing far away
11 To the pleasant Land of Play;
3 I To the fairy land afar,
j Where the little people are.
Where the clover tops nr.- trees,
| And the rain pools are t.o seas,
> I And the leaves, like little ships,
1 Sail about, on tiny trips;
5 ; And above the daisy tree,
, ‘ Through the grasses,
, i High o’erhoad the humble bo
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
; Soo the spider and the lly,
And the ants go marching bv
Carrying parcels with their feet
> ' .Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
’ i Where the lady’ninl aliu
1 can climb the jointed gc tss;
11 And on high
; : See the greater swallows pass
In the sky
, And the round sun rolling by
Heeding n > such things as I.
. J Through that forest I can pass
Till, us in a looking glass,
Humming lly and daisy tieo
' And my tiny sell I see,
Painted very clear and neat
I On tiie rain-pool nt my feet.
■ Should a Icirtnt come to han I
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I’ll boa d that tiny boat
Hound the rain-pool sea to floit.
Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy co tuts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
-Some are clad in armor green
(These have sure to battle been
Some are pied with every hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone,
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes 1 once again
Open and see all things plain :
High,bare walls, a great bare 11-xir;
Groat big knobs on drawer and door;
Grout big people perched on chairs
Stitching tucks mi l mending tears,
l.iu-li n hill that 1 could climb
And talking nonsense all tho time—
0. dear mo,
'Hint J could be
A sailor on the rain-pool sen,
| A climber in tho clover tree,
And just come back, a sleepy head,
Late at night to go to bod.
—Hobert Lotus Slcvrmon.
How Greely was Found.
The story of the relief expedition I
sent out by the United States in search
of Lieutenant Greely ami his party,
ice-iminurcd in the Arctic regions, is
full of interest. Particularly pathetic
is this account of how a search party
from the relief vessels came across the
seven survivors:
At last the boat arrived at the site'
of the wreck-cache, and the shore was j
eagerly scanned, but nothing could be ;
een. Rounding the next point, the I
I cutter opened out the cove beyond.
There on the top of a little ridge, fifty
i or sixty yards above the ice-foot, was
plainly outlined the figure of a man.
Instantly the coxswain caught up the
boat hook and waved his flag. The
man on the ridge had seen them, for he
stooped, picked up the signal flag from
the rock, and waved it in reply. Then
he was seen coming slowly and cau
tiously down the steep rocky slope, i
Twice he fell down before he reached ;
- the foot. As he approached, still
walking feebly and with difficulty, j
(,’olwell hailed him from the bow of
the boat:
“Who all are there left?"
“Seven left.”
As the cutter struck the ice, Colwell i
; jumped off and went up to him. He i
was a ghastly sight. Ilis cheeks were '
hollow, his eyes wild, his hair and i
beard long and matted. His army j
' blouse, covering several thicknesses of j
shirts and jackets, was ragged and
dirty. He wore a little fur cap and |
rough mocassins of untanned leather
tied around the legs. As he spoke, his
utterance was thick and mumbling
and in his agitation his jaws worked in
convulsive twitches. As the two met,
the man, with a sudden impulse, took
off his glove and shook Colwell’s hand.
“Where are they?” asked Cciweli 1
briefly.
“In the tent,” said the man,pointing
over his shoulder, “over the hill—the
tent is down.”
“Is Mr. Greely alive?”
“Yes, Greely’s alive.”
“Any other officers?”
“No.” Then he repeated absently,
“The tern, is down.”
“Who are you?”
“Long.”
Before this colloquy was over, Lowe ' I
and Norman had started up the hill. <
Hastily tilling his pockets with bread, ■,
and taking the two cans of pemmican, .
Colwell told the coxswain to take Long J
into the cutter, and started after the ■
others with Ash. Reaching the crest ;
of the ridge, and looking southward, i
they saw spread out before them a des- ! <
olate expanse of rocky ground, sloping i
gradually from a ridge on the east to ,
the ice-covered shore, which at the
west made in and formed a cove. Back j ;
of the level space was a range of hills
SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. JULY 22,1885.
I rising up 800 feet, with a precipitous I
face, broken in two by a gorge,through I
which tho wind was blowing furious- !
lyi On a little elevation directly in I
front was the tent Hurrying across •
the intervening hollow, Colwell came I
j up with Lowe and Norman, just as
j they were greeting a soldierly looking
I man who had just come oiit from the
; tent.
I As Colwell approached, Norman was
: saying to the man:
“There is the lieutenant.”
And he added to Colwell:
“ This is Sergeant Brainard.”
Brainard immediately drew himself j
up to the “position of a soldier,” and ’
. was about to salute, when Colwell i
I took his hand.
At this moment there was a confused I
I murmur within the tent, and a voice !
said:
“Who’s there?”
Norman answered: “It is Norman ■
—Norman who was in the I’roteus.”
This Was followed by cries of “Oh,
it’s Norman!” and a sound like a fee
ble cheer.
| Meanwhile ono of the relief party,
who in his agitation and excitement
! was crying like a child, was down on
J his handsand knees trying to roll away
i the stones that held down the flapping
> tent cloth. Tho tent was a “tepik" or
' wigwam tent, with a llyattached. The
I fly with its posts and ridge-pole had
I been wrecked by the gale which had
I been blowing for thirty-six hours, and
; the pole of the tepik was toppling over,
I and only kept in place by the guy
ropes. There was no entrance except
under the flap opening, which was held
down by stones. Colwell called for a
knife, cut a slit in the tent cover and
looked in.
It was a sight of horror. On one
side, closu to Hie opening, with his
head toward the outside, lay what was
I apparently a dead man. His jaw had
j dropped, his eyes were open, but fixed
■ and glassy, his limbs were motionless.
On the opposite side was a poor fellow,
alive to lie sure, but without hands or
j feet, and witli a spoon tied to the
; stump of his right arm. Two others,
seated on the ground in the middle,had
just got down a rubber bottle that
hung on the tent pole, and were potir
i ing from it into a tin can. Directly
opposite, on his hands and knees, was
a dark man with a long matted beard,
; in a dirty and tattered dressing gown
with a little red skull cap on his head,
and brilliant, staring eyes. As Col- I
well appeared, lie raised himself it little ;
and put on a pair of eye-glasses.
“Who are you?” asked Colwell.
The man made no answer, staring I
at him vacantly.
“Who are you?” again.
One of the men spoke up; “That’s
I the Major—Major Greely.”
Colwell crawled in and took him by
the hand, saying to him, “Greely, is
this you ?”
“Yes,” said Greely in a faint, I
: broken voice, hesitating and shuffling j
with his words, “Yes—seven of us j
left—here we are—dying—like men. I
Did what I came to do—beat the best i
record.”
Then he fell back exhausted.
“Major Jones.”
One of the personages about Wash
! ington during the war was Annie J
: Jones, who originally professed to have ;
I ran away from a boarding-school in !
i Boston to “follow the drum,” and who I
i attached herself to the headquarters of !
I General Stahel, the commander of a f
i German brigade A flippant talker, i
j she ingratiated herself into the favor I
I of the General, and received an honor
i ary appointment as a member of his
j staff, and as “Major Jones’ became an
j institution in the army. She ate with j
I the General, drank with the General,
I rode with the General on ail his haz- i
irdous forays, chatted with the Gene
ral, nursed the General when he was !
sick, fought the General’s battles when i
-he heard him aspersed by jealous un
derstrappers, and when night drew the
starry flag over the heavens, she slept
with her beloved colored maid in the ■
next little tent, which the General had
assigned her. She thus lived and
flourished.
Her orders were wont to be obeyed,
because she was recognized as a stall
officer. She always had the counter
sign, and could pass the picket at
pleasure. She was said to be a girl oi
great dash and daring, and would fre
quently venture out beyond the out
posts, and for days watch the move- '
mentsof the enemy,and bring in whole
budgets of information from the rebel 1
camps, as proofs of her stewardship i
and shrewdness. Every one knew
Major Jones; officers would doff their i
hats, and privates would stand at full 1
“present” as she rode by in military ,
feminine dignity. The visiting officers i
from other commands were introduced ;
to Annie, and admired her, and she I
reigned supreme as the “she-major es < 1
cavalry.” I
When General Hooker marched into i
Maryland and Stahel was relieved. '
Miss Major Annie joined her fortunes
I with the young and gallant. Custer,
j with whom she remained, retaining
' her rank and title, until a general or-
I derfrom army headquarters rendered
it necessary for him to dispense with
! her valuable services, and the Major
wits compelled to search for a field of
usefulness elsewherA For a few days
; she wandered about the camp, having
no particular abiding place or eontin
i uing city, until Colonel Sharpe, then
acting provost - marshal - general,
thought the interests of the service re
quired that she should be removed to
Washington. Accordingly a pass was
j granted her to travel as far as the mil-
J itary railroad would carry her, and a
■ sergeant of the Ninety-Third New
' York Was detailed to accompany her.
to guard against any accident on the
1 way. Arriving at Washington she
i stopped at the Kirkwood House,where
I :ho sometimes appeared in staff uni
' form and then in fashionable female
I attire, it was believed that she was
a Confederate spy in the Union secret
service. —Bo.sfmt litidget.
v —.
Epithelioma.
This word— now so sadly familiar
from the case of General Grant—is one
of the mimes of carcinoma, or cancer.
It, is used because most cases of cancer
are connected with the epithelium,—
the membrane which lines most of the
internal organs and cavities of the
body,—or with the epidermis (scarf
skin), which covers the outer surface
and is essentially of the same nature.
All our tissues—muscles,membranes,
nerves, fat, bones, etc.—are built up
by, and consist mainly of, cells. These
cells select from the blood, transform
ami assimilate the element essential to
their activity, growth and perpetua
tion. They multiply by division, ru
mors result from a morbid multiplica
tion of cells. Benign tumors simply
crowd—as they grow by the multipli
cation of cells -against the adjacent
parts. In malignant tumors the mul
tiplying cells infiltrate into the ad jacent
parts, and thus constantly enlarge their
deadly area; or they are taken up by
the blood-vessels and lymphatic ves
sels, particularly the lat ter, and borne
to distant glands, where they set up
the same deadly act ion.
A cancer, of whatever kind, is al
ways malignant., though a hard cancer,
of which an epithelioma is one, is not
so malignant as a soft cancer, in
which Hie culls preponderate over the
fibrous tissue What is now called a
I sarcoma, which was once thought to
| be a cancer, is a benign tumor gene
rally, but. may be malignant. It differs
from a cancel: mainly in liavi g its
cells separated from each other by in
tervening substance. In thelatterthe
cells lie against each other -several
hundred of them perhaps— in (other
wise) empty spaces, or nest:. The
microscope alone distinguishes be
! tween the two—the cancer and the
| sarcoma.
A cancer may long remain simply a
’ hard, painless tumor, with its true
character unknown. If it can be cut
out then, it may never recur. This, ■
i therefore, is the time for its extirpa
tion. A cancer due solely to local
irritation is quite likely to be cured I
' when operated on early. When due
to hereditary taint, it is more likely to
recur under some new irritation.
The age at which cancers appear is
' generally after forty. Hence theoc
! currence of a hard tumor, say from i
i forty-live and onward, should awaken
j attention. But comparatively few tu
i mors are cancerous.
In cases where extirpation is im
practicable, medical treatment may
still do much for the general health,
the relief of distressing symptoms, and
averting the progress of organic dis
ease.— Youth’» Companion.
The Harber’s Side of It.
“You hear a great deal of talk about
being too talkative,” said a I’ittsburgh
barber, “but let me tell you that the
barber who doesn’t talk isn’t any good.
He isn’t popular with the trade and
and he doesn’t make a good workman.
You see, a man comes in and he gets
into the chair, and the barber commen
ces shaving him without saying a
word. The man who is being shaved j
has nothing to think about except him- ;
seif, and he immediately begins tc'
kick about the razor. It pulls and
and hurts his face, and nothing suits
him, and he goes away dissatisfied
with the shop and barber. Now one
of those good-natured, talkative bar
bers would take that same man and
commence talking politics and the
weather, the police and the skating
rink to him, and there would never be
the slightest kick. No sir; the barber
could use his oldest, dullest, and rusti
est razor ami the man would nevei
think of complaining, and when th< '
barber would finish combing his hail
by telling him that he had hair jusl
like Abe Lincoln or Charles Sumner
he’d get up and give him a cigar aru
go oB feeling good natured, and swea,
that, was the best shop irj the city.—
Pittsburgh Dispatch.
A SEEM BI TALMAGE.
“A First-Rate Mother.”:
Text, I. Samuel, ii. 19 : “ Moreover his •
mother made him a little codt and brought it '
to him from year to year, when she came up ■
with her husband to offer the yearly sacri
fice.”
The story of Deborah and Abigail is very
j ant to discourage a woman’s soul. She says
I within herself: “It is impossible that I ever
achieve any such grandeur of character, and
I don’t mean to tty;’’ as though a child
should refuse to play the eight notes because
he cannot execute a “William Tell.” This
Hannah of the text differs from tho persons I
just now named. She was an ordinary
woman, with ordinary intellectual capacity,
placed in ordinary circumstances, and yet, ;
| by extraordinary piety standing out before ■
| all tho ages to come, the model Christian |
i mother. Hannah was the wife of Elkanah, i
who was a person very much like herself — |
unromantic and plain, never having fought a
battle or been the subject of a marvelous
escape. Neither of these would have been
called a genius. Just what you and I might
, be, that was Elkanah and Hannah. Tho
brightest time in ell the history of that
family was the birth of Samuel. Although
no stur ran along tho heavens pointing down
to his birthplace, 1 think tho angels of God
stooped at tho coming of so wonderful a
prophet. As Samuel had been given in
answer to prayer, Elkanah and all his
i family save Hannah, started up to
■ i Shiloh to Offer sacrificesof thanksgiving. Tho
! cradle where the child slept was altar enough
' for Hannah’s grateful heart; but when tho
boy was old enough she took him to Shiloh
and took three bullocks and an epnah of flour '
and a bottle of wine, and made offering of j
: sacrifice unto the Lord; and there, according
I to a previous vow, she left him: for there he
! ! was to stay all the days of his life and minis
( , ter in the temple. Years rolled on, and every
j year Hannah made with her own hand a gar-
. | meat for Samuel, and took it over to him.
( j The lad would have got along well without
1 i that garment, for 1 suppose he was well clad
by the ministry of the temple; but Hannah
j could not bo contented unless she was all the
I time doing something for her darling boy.
! I “Moreover, his mother made him a little coat
i and brought it to him from year to year,
> I when she camo up with her husband to offer
( tho yearly sacrifice.”
Hannaii stands before us t hen in tho first
i place as an industrious mother. There was |
Ino need for her to work. Elkanah, hor hus- |
1 band, was far from |>oor. He belonged to a
' distinguished family; for the Bible tells us
that ho was tho son of Jerohani, the son of !
; Elihu, the son of Tohn, the son of Zuph. i
- : “Who were thov?” you say. Ido not know;
j but they were distinguished people no doubt, I
i or their names would not have been inon
i tioned. Hannah might have seated herself
' in her family, and with folded arms and dis
j hoveled hair read novels from year to year,
i if there had been any to read; but when 1 see
1 i her making that garment and taking it over
i to Hainmd, I know siie is industrious from 1
j principle as well as from pleasure. God
] would not have a m-•■'"’er become a !
i drudge or a slay r no would have i
her employ all tho helps possible in this day '
1 i in the rearing of tier chiklreu. But Hannah
i j ought never to b« ashamed to be found mak
i ing a coat for Samuel. Most mol hers need
ino counsel in this direction. The wrinkles on !
their brow, the pallor on their clicks, the
thimble mark on their finger attest that they
are fathlul in their maternal duti'.s. The
bloom and the brightness and the vivacity of
girlhood have gi ,un place for the grander
; ! dignity ami usefulness and industry of niother
hofxi. But there is a heathenish idea getting
1 abroad in some ot the families of Americans;
I there are mothers who banish themselves
s from the horn circle. For t hroe-fourths of
their maternal duties they prove themselves
incornpetenl-. They are ignorant of what
their children wear and what their children '
eat and what their children read. They en
trust to irresponsible persons 1 hese young im
mortalsand allow them to be under influences i
which may cripple their bodies or taint their
purity or spoil their manners or destroy their
souls. From the awkward cut of Samuel’s
coat you know his mother Hannah did not
; make it. Ont from under flaming chandeliers
and off from imported carpets and down the
granite f-Liirs there is come a great crowd of
children in this day, unrestrained, saucy, in
competent Im- all practical duties of life, i
ready to be taught in the first whirl of crime ;
and seiHiiahty. Indolent and unfaithful
mothers will make indolent and unfaithful
children. You cannot expect neatness and
order in rny house where the daughters see
nothing Imt slattei mmsand upside downna-
' tivene-s in their i arents.
Let Hannah be idle and most certainly
Sain icl will grow up idle. Who are the in
' dust nous men in all our occupations and pro
i fessi >ns? Who are they managing the nier
i chandi .e of the world, building the walls, i
ti-miug the roofs, weaving the carpets,
' making the laws, governing the nations,
maki g the earth to quake ai d heave and
roar and i al tie witli the tread of gigantic en
terprises" Who are they? For the most part
i they descend from industrious mothers who j
in the old h< nu stend used to s_>in their own ■
yarn and wi»ave t icir gwu ■ urii-’ti and plait j
their own door maisand flag I h'dr own < liairs
an Ido the.row i work. Th • stalwart men ;
and tile infiue.tial women of this day, ninety- I
nine out of a hundred of th m, came from
such an d us'rioiis anceslry of hard knocks j
and h>m • i i And who are thus* people in
soci' ty, li dit; as Loth, blown on every wind '
of temp'ut o.t an I fashion the poddkus of
filthy : lories, th • dancing jacks of politi< al
parties, the scum of so F ty, the tav<-rn- |
loung n the store-infesting, the men of low ■
wink un I fi’t'iy c huckle and brass breastpin !
and rotten associations! For the most part
they came from mothers idle and disgusting I
—the scandal-mongers of society, going Ir<»ni
bouse to house attending to everybody's
bn>iii<*FS buttheir own: believing in with s
and ghosts and horse shoes to keep the devil
' out of the < hum, and by a godless life setting j
their childr n on tho very verge of hell. Ti e !
, mothers of Samuel Johnson and of Alfred
' the Great and of Isaac Newton and of Saint
Augustine and of Richard C’ecil and of I’resi-
■ dent Edwards for the most part were indus- ;
trious, hard-working mothers. N w, while I ■
congratulate all Christian mothers upon the ;
wealth and the modern science which \
may afford them all kinds of
he.' ji, let me say that every moth r
ought to lie observant of her children’s walk, '
her chit Iren’s behavior, her children’s food, i
her children's Injoks, her children’s ;
i companionship. However much help '
Hannah may have, I think she ought
every year, at least, make one garment !
for Hainuel. The Lord have mercy on Ihe
\ man who is so unfortunate as to have a lazy
' mother'
Again Hannah stands lief ore us ns an intel
ligent mother. From the way in which she
ta!k<d in this chapt-r, and from the way she ,
, managed this boy, you know she was intelli- .
gent There are no persons in a community i
who used to lie s > wise and well informed as ..
mothers. Oh, this work of culturing chil- •
dren for this world and the next. This child *
is timid and it must be roused up and pushed j
out into activity. This child is forward and
he must be held ha-k and tamed down into i
modesty and politeness. Rewards for one, .
punishments for another; that whi -h will j
make George wili rum John. The rod is ne
cessary in one ease, while a frown of dis
pleasure is more than enough in another.
Whipping and a dark closet do not exhaust
all the rounds of domestic discipline. There
have been childn n who have gone up and :
i gone to glory without ever having had their
ears boxed. Oh, how much care and intelli
gence is ne e>sary in the rearing of children!
But in this day. when there are so many
books on the subject no parent is excusable in
being ignoi-ant of the best mode of bringing
ipa >li !'i If parents knew'more of diet
etics thei'e would not b * so many dyspeptic
stomachs and weak nerves and inactive liv
ers among children. If parents knew more
of physiology there would not be as
many curve-1 spines and cramped < hes‘- and
inflamed throats and diseased lungs as there
are among children, if parents knew more
NO. 27.
; of art and Wore in sympathy with all that is
i beautiful, there wpuld not be so many chil
dren coming nut in the world with boorish
proclivities. If parents knew more of Christ
i and practiced more of bis religion, there
would not be so many little feet already
starting on the wrong road, and all around
us voices of riot and blasphemy would not
• come up with such ecstacy of infernal tri
umph. The eaglets in the eyrie have no ad-
Vantages ever tLa eaglets a thousand years
ago; the kids have no superior way of climb
i ing up the rocks than the old goats taught
hundreds of years ago; the whelps know no
j snore now than did the whelps of ages ago—
they are taught no more by the lions of the
desert; but it is a shame that in this day,
when there are so many opportunities of im
proving ourselves in the best manner of cul
turing children, that so of ten there is no more
advan nnent in this respect than there has
been among the kids and the eaglets and the
Whelps.
Again Hannah stands before us as a
Christian mother. From her prayers and
from the way she consecrated her boy to
God, I know she was good. A mother may
1 have tho finest culture, the most brilliant sur*
I roundings, but she is not fit for her duties un
. less she boa Christian mother. There may
■ bo well-read libraries in the house, and ex
quisite music in the parlor, and the canvas of
the best artists adorning the walls, and the
wardrobe bo crowded with tasteful apparel,
and the children bo wonderful for their at
tainments, and make the house ring with
laughter and innocent mirth; but there is
something wooful-looking in that house if ii
be not also the residence of a Christiar
mother. I bless God that there are not
many prayerless mothers—not many ol
them. The weight of responsibility
is so great that they feel the need of a divine
hand to help and a divine voice to comfort,
an<l a divine heart to sympathize. Thous
amis of tho others have been led into the
kingdom of God by the hands of their litth
children. There are hundreds of mothen
who would not have been Christians had it
not been for tho prattle of their little ones
standing someday in the nursery they be
thought themselves: “This child God hai
givtui me to raise for eternity. What is mj
influence upon it/ Not being a Christian my
self. how can I ever expect him to become f
Christian! Lord help me!” Oh. are then
anxious mothers who know nothing of th<
infinite help of religion? Then I commend t<
them Hannah, the pious mother of Samuel
Do not think it is absolutely impossible tha
your children come up iniquitous. Out of
just, such fair brows and bright eyes and sofl
'i-iibls nnd innocmit. henrtß rrimn <rnt.<s its vin
thus -extirpating purity from the heart and
rubbing out tho smoothness from the brow,
squelching the lustre of the eye and shrivel
i ing up and jioisoning and putrefying and
seething and scalding and blasting and burn
! ing with shame ami woe. Every child is a
. bundle of tremendous possibilities; and
I whether that child shall come forth in life, its
I heart attuned to the eternal harmonies, and
i after a life of usefulness on earth go to a life j
| of joy in heaven; or whether across it shall |
jar eternal discords, and after a life of wrong ■
doing on earth it shall go to a house of impen
etrable darkness and an abyss of innneasur- ,
able plunge, is being do *ided by nursery song '
and Sabbat Ii lesson and evening prayer and |
walk and ndo and look and frown and smile. ;
| Oh, how many children in glory, crowding ;
all the battlements and lifting a million- i
voiced hosiana—brought to God through I
j Christian parentage. Ono hundred and twen
i ty clergymen were together and they were
telling their experience and their ancestry; '
and of the 120 clergymen, how many of
them do you suppose assigned as the
| nI-uns of their conversion, the influence of a
Christian mother? One hundred out of the
120! Philip Doddridge was brought to Goil
by the scripture lesson on the Dutch tile of
the chimney fire-place. The mother thinks i
she is rocking a child; but at the same time
she may be rocking the destiny of empires—
rocking tho fate of nations—rocking tho
glories of heaven. The same maternal power
t hat may lift a child up may press a child
down. A daughter came to a worldly mother
an I said she was anxious about her sins, and
she had been jn aying nil night. The mother
j said; “Oh, stop praying! 1 don’t believe in
jn aying. Get over all those religious notions,
mid 1 11 give you a dress that will cost five
hundred dollars, and you may wear it next j
week to that party.’’ I'he daughter took the ,
dress and she moved in the gay circle, the
gayest of all the gay t hat night; and sure
enough all religious impressions were gone,
■anti she steppe 1 praying. A few months
after she came to tlie, and in her closing
momentss d1: “Mother, I wish you would
bring me that dress that cost five hundred
. dollars?” The mother thought it a very
strangere juo.it; butshebrought.it to please
the dying child “Now,” said the daughter,
“mother, hang that <1 ress on the foot of my
b(‘d;’’ and the dress was hung there on the
foot of the bed. Then the dying child got up
on one elbow and looked at her mother and
then nointed to the dress and said: “Mother,
that dress is the price of my soul I” Oh, '
what a momentous thing It is to ben mother!
Again and lastly, Ummah stands before us
as the rewarded mother. For all tho coats she
made for Bamuel; for all the prayers
she offered for him; for the discipline she ex
erted over him, sho got abundant coinpen
sation in tho jiiety and tho usefulness and the
popularity of her son Samuel, and that is
true in all ages. Every mother gets full pay
for all the prayers and tears in behalf of her
' children. That man useful in commercial
life; that man prominent in tho profession;
that master mechanic—why, every step he
takes in life has an echo of gladness in the
old heart that long ago taught him to be
Christian and heroic, and earnest. The story
of what you have done, or what you have
1 written, of tho influence you have exerted, i
i has gone back to the old homestead—for
there is someone always ready to carry good
tidings—and that rtory makes the needle in
; the old mother’s t remulous hand fly quicker, j
and the flail in tlie father’s hat'd come down
on the barn floor with a more vigorous
tbumj). I’arents love to hear good news
from their children. Do you send them good
news always? Lo >k out for the young man I
who s|»eaks of his father as the “governor,” j
the “squire,”or the “old chap” Look out
for the young woman who '-alls her mother
her “maternal ancestor,” or the “old
woman.” “Tiie eye that mocketli at his
father and refuseth to obey his mother, the
tavens of the valley sb ill jd k it out, and the
young eagles shall eat it.’ God grant that all :
thus* parents may h ive the great satisfaction ,
of eeing their < hil Iren grow up Christians.
But, oh, the jiang of that mother who, after
a bfe of stroet-g-iddmg and gossip retailing, >
hanging on her c hildren the fripperies and
foliies of this world, see those children tossed i
out on the sea of bfe like foam on I
the wave or nonentities in a world I
where only brawny and stalwart
i character can stand the shock! But blessed
be the mother whe looks upon her children as
sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty!
Oh, the satisf:u tion of Hannah in seeing Sam
uel serving nt th- alt ir; of mother Eunice in
seeing her Timothy learned in the scriptures.
That is tho mother’* rocornjiense, to see chil
dren coming up useful in the world, reclaim
ing the lost. healing the sick, pitying the ig
norant, earnest and us- ful in every sphere.
There she sits tne old Christian mother—• •
ripe for heaven. Her eyesight isalmost gone,
but the splendors of the celestial city kindls
up her vision. The gray light of heaven’s
morn has stru k through the gray lock which
are foiden b'ick over the wrinkled temples.
She stoops very much now under the burden
of care she used to carry for her children.
She sits at hom r *, too ol«l to find her way to
the house of God: but while she .-.its there, all
the past comes back, and the children that
forty years ago trooped around her turn ehair
with their griefs ami joys ami sorrows—those
children are gone now. Some caught up into
a iietter realm, where they shall never die,
and others out in the broad world, attesting
th® excellence of a Christian mother’s disci
pline. Her last days are full of jv*aee; and
calmer and sweter will her spirit become
until the gates of life shall lift and let in the
worn ou’ pilgrim into eternal spring tide and
vo’t’h.
P. M.—Several of the Georgia towns
have hit upon a novel plan to decide
who thall he their Postmasters. Every
man who receives mail from the office is
ntitied to a vote, which he drops into a
box provided for the purpose.
Contentment.
'My little world is very small,
carce worth your notice, sir, at all,”
The mother said.
'My good, kind husband, as you see,*
kud those three children at my knee,
Vho look to us so trustingly
For daily bread—
‘For their sweet sakes, who love me so,
keep the firelight in a glow
In our dear home,
?hat, though the tempest roar outside,
And fiercely beaten far and wide,
The cheery blaze may serve to guide
Dear feet that roam.
"And as the merry kettle boils,
Vo welcome him who daily toils
For us each day. ■
)f true ovo kisses full a score J
de gets, I’m certain, if not more,
IVlien fond ones meet him at the door, v
At twilight gray.
‘One gets the slippers for his feet, •
knot her leads him to his seat —
The big arm chair—
•\nd while tho children round him sing,
And make the dear old miters ring,
)nc little daughter crowns him king
With blossoms fair.
‘Ah, sir, we are not rich or groat,
Fhe owners of a vast estate,”
The mother said;
‘But we have better fur than gold, I
Contentment, and a little fold »
\s full of love as it can hold,
With daily bread.”
—Mrs. M. Jf. Kidder.
HUMOROUS.
The giraffe presents the most won
derful case of soar throat on record.
In these “shutting down” times it is
avident that ten mills do not make a
sent.
Spicer asks: “What is the rate of
interest when distance lends enchant
ment to the view.” •-.- • •
“Os all my family patients,” said
Dr. Killemquick, “not one is sick.”
“Guess you haven’t called on any of
them lately ’?” inquiringly remarked a
brother M. D.
Over 200 new doctors were turned
out of a New York medical college
recently. This looks as though their
institutions were working on full time
to keep pace with the establishment of
skating rinks.
"Hello, Smith! Suppose a man mar
ries his first wife’s step-sister's aunt,
what relation is he to her?” “First
wife—um—step-aunt—er—let’s see—
I don’t know.” “Bright fellow. He’s
her husband.”
“What did I understand you to say
this is, ma’am ’?” the new boarder asked
the landlady. “Spring chicken, sir,”
tartly replied the lady, “pray, what did
you think?” “That’s what I thought
it was, ma’am, with all the springs left
in.”
An honest man may be about as
hard to find as a plumber with a mort
gage on his house; but when you do
stumble upon him he has his trade
mark upon his face, and,.whether in
homespun or store-clothes, might walk
through the town with an umbrella
under each arm without fear of unjust
suspicion.
A Good Word for the Turks.
The Turkish people have been ac
cused of brigandage, assassination and
every description of crime. I, who have
lived among them for fifteen years, am
proud to proclaim myself their cham
pion. As soldiers and sailors they arc
unrivalled when well commanded.
As peasants they are industrious, long
suffering and good. In their religion
they are sincere, and never fanatical
unless roused t.o be so by ill usage and
sneers at their faith. Let the sports
man, the traveller or the antiquarian
in pursuit of pleasure or business find
himself among the real Turks in Ana
tolia or elsewhere, and he will be safe
as to his person and property and re
ceive every kindness and hospitality
whereas, when he goes among the
Christains settled in Turkey, he will
frequently be robbed, and always un
der the levy of blackmail. Accusa
tions have been made against the
Turks of cruelty and ill-usage, which
have been exaggerated, sometimes tc
a ludicrous degree—such as when a
reverend divine reported that he actu
ally saw a man impaled, who turned
out to be a fisherman sitting on a pole
watching for fish to enter his net. Se
riously speaking, the statistics of crime
committed in Turkey by Turks would
bear favorable comparison with those
of many so-called enlightened nations.
—Turkey and England.
The Hat as a Party Badge.
It is noticed that more soft hats arc
now seen in Washington than ever be
fore. Why is it that Democrats have
a predilection for soft and the Repub
licans for stiff hats is one of the un
solved psychological problems, but the
facr remains. Os course there are
thousands of exceptions, but not toe
many to prove the rule. It is noticed
too, the more deeply steeped in Democ
racy a man becomes the longer he
wears a hat. It is an idiosyncrasy
which ossifies with age, just as an old
maid gradually acquires a passion foi
the color lavender.— Chicago Times
Hood Have Thought It I
“Take her up tenderly,
“Lift her with care,” —
“Ah, that is a beautiful thing, sir.”
said the pensive stranger.
"Wot is?” asked the man with a
cast in his eye.
“Hood’s ‘Bridge of Sighs,’ that I just
heard you quoting,” replied the pensive
stranger.
“That ain’t no 'Bridge of Si-.-hs,’ ’" re
plied the man with a cast in his eye.
“That’s the commencement ot an odt
to a roller rink!”— Pittsburg Chronicle.