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NORTH GEORGIA « MES. ' V
Wm. 0. Editor.
Tlio Impassible.
Man cannot draw water from on empty well,
Nor trace tho stories that gossips tell,
Nor gather the sounds of a pealing boll
Man never can stop the billow’s roar,
Nor change the winds till they blow no more,
Nor drive true love from a maiden's door.
Man cannot o'ertake a fleeting lie,
Change his wheat to a field of rye,
Nor call back years that have long gone by.
Man cannot a cruel word recall,
Letter a thought, be it great or small.
Nor honey extract, from a drop of gall.
Man never can bribe old Father Tima,
Gaia the peak that he cannot climb,
Nor trust the hand that hath done a crime.
Man never can backward turn the tide,
Nor count the stars that are scattered wide,
Nor find in a fool a trusty guide.
Man cannot reap fruit from worthless seed,
Rely for strength on a broken reed,
Nor gain a heart ho hath caused to bleed.
Man never can hope true peace to win,
Pleasure without and joy within, _
Living a thoughtless life of sin.
JIM CHURCHILL.
It was dusty, hot and badly ventilated
indoors, although out of doors a cold rain
was beating cheerlessly against thc car
windows, and thc damp, raw wind was
as fresh as thc brown hills nnd ice cov
cred marshes it b!e\V over. It was an ac
ccSmnodation train on one of the trunk
lines in the central part of this Slate and
therefore a better condition of affairs
could not have been expected. No mat¬
ter how cold the weather or wet, it is al¬
ways hot and dusty on an accommoda¬
tion train. The colder and wetter it is
outside, the hotter and dustier inside,
nnd the more unpleasant it is the slower
the train bumps over the rails, the more
frequent the stops it makes, the larger
tho crowd of ou-eoming passengers, and
thc greater the throng of goers out. At
Palatine Bridge thc train came to another
stop. . On the uncovered platform of the
railway station there were gathered a few
shivering would-be-passengers, eager to
barter one condition of discomfort for
another almost equally as disagreeable
and impatient at thc delay, for whoever
knew an accommodation train to be on
time? Among them were a man dressed
• like a farmer and two little girls—the cl
der loss than six years old and the young¬
er her junior a year or so—with fresh,
smiling, dimpled faces and sweet, prat¬
tling voices, which even tho rumbling
the train, thc sticky dust, the plashing
rain, thc smoke, the heat and the crowd¬
ed load of ill-tempered passengers could
not cloud or silence. They came into
the car where I sat. Thc farmer and tho
younger child found a vacant scat in
front of me. I moved nearer thc aisle to
let the other climb over the parcels by
my side next to the window, out of
which she gazed into the rain and
through the blinding clouds of smoke
which covered the soggy fields with an
intensity of delight that was so unaffect
cd that thc train ought to have felt flat¬
tered, had it had sense enough to feel
anything.
“I dess love to ride on the cars, don’t
you?” shc asked after the train had re¬
sumed its tiresome journey.
I
‘ ‘I do all the time. Sty papa is an en¬
gineer.”
“Then you ride a good deal?” I ven¬
tured.
“Not very much,” she answered with
a little sigh of discontent; “not as much
as I want to. Since Mamma went away,
Papa won’t let me and Grandma always
cries when I go on the cars.”
“Ah?”
“Didn’t you know that? You know
my Papa?” she remarked with such con¬
fidence in my knowledge that I was al¬
most ashamed to say that I didn’t:
“Don’t bother thc gentleman,” inter¬
rupted the farmer as he turned half
around in his seat and faced me, “She
is a big talker.
“Shc doesn’t bother me in the least,” I
made haste to say. So, reassured, thc
little maiden turned her face to the win¬
dow, and in a moment was too much ab¬
sorbed in the fleeting panorama to re¬
member anything but the passing pleas¬
ure.
“Her father was an engineer on this
road—Jim Churchill. Ever heard of
him?” continued the farmer after a short
pause. “No. Well, I ain’t surprised.
Yet he deserved to be known more’n lots
of men that gets their names before the
public. Jim and I was schoolboys to¬
gether up country near Palmyra. We
was both raised in the same township,
and we used to think when we was men
we’d be partners, and so wc was—almost.
Jim was bigger’n me, stronger and a year
or so older. I was always a runt among
the boys, and if it hadn’t been for Jim
I’d probably been licked every day in my
life. But Jim wouldn’ stand nothing of
that sort. He was as brave as a giant
and he never allowed anyone to be
posed upon while he could prevent it,
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, i ' URSDAY JUNE 10, 1886.
and when the boys learned that he meant
what he said they let me alone. 8o we
grew up together.like two brothers. He
loved me because I was weaker then he
was, just as a father loves a baby, and I
just Worshipped him. I’d a’ died for
him, stranger, just as easy—if he’d only
said the word. You ought to have know
ed Jim Churchill. One Jim Churchill
would make up for a half a million such
fellows as me and the ordinary run of
folks.
“When we wero about sixteen years
we had our first trouble. She was the
prettiest girl in the county, and she was
just as sweet and good as shc was pretty.
She was the dominie’s daughter, and
when she came to school Jim and I both
set our caps for her at the same time.
Funny, stranger, liow a pretty girl will
com* between old friends. Two men'
can live like twins a whole lifetime, but
just let a pretty woman come in and they ‘
will fight like brothers-in-law over a will.
When little Phillis came to school, and
Jim and I rail races to ask to sec her
home or to fetch her to Singing school or
Sunday night meeting, then, stranger, we
knowed the first trouble of our lives.
Somehow we grew cold like, and before
that year was ended wc did not speak.
One night Jim and I met at her house.
I was seventeen then, and Jim was over
eighteen and as big as a man. He had a
beard, almost, and he was as handsome
as a picture. He didn’t know that I was
there, or I don’t think he’d a called. I
had been there about an hour, rud just
before the knocker sounded Phillis had
told me the old story wc all of us live to
hear so well, and I felt as happy and
light-hearted as a lark. When Jim came
in and saw us sitting in the little old par¬
lor he seemed to know just what had
happened like a flash. For a moment I
thought he’d do something he’d regret
sometime. His face got so black nnd
sullen and his eyes got ugly. Phillis saw
it, too, soon as I did.
“‘Jim,’said she, her voice trembling
just a little. ‘Jim, i want you and Bob
to shake hands and bo friends.’
“Then I got up and held out my hand;
though, to tell tho truth, I felt sort of
nervous. |
„ T ”^ , , her voh« get¬
< '
ting stronger and her face getting sweet¬
er and sweeter. 'I want you to lovo Bob
again just as you used to, because—be¬
cause—I love him so much. Won’t you,
Jim? for—my sake.’
, “I wish you could have seen Jim just
thten, striWiger. I never saw the good in
malj.^j' ’ hard bad
a so with thc and
come out ahead in all niv life beforo or
since and never expect to again. Hc
stood there by the epen window just as
if he’d been carved out of stone. I didn’t
know whether he’d heard what she said
or not, he was so still. Then just ns I
was about to take back my hand Jim
took it in both of his so hard I almost
dropped. Then he threw his arms
around my neck, kissed me on my lips,
flopped down on a chair, stranger, and
cried like a baby. Phillis, the little
woman, cried too, and there we all were
with our arms around each other crying
like women and not any of us knowing
what wc was about.
“That settled things with us. After
that we was brothers just like we used to
be. Well, it’s a long story, and I guess
you won’t care to hear it all. So I’ll cut
it short. When I was twenty-one I was
married. Jim was our best man, and my
oldest boy is named James Churchill
Brown. About a year or so later Jim
married. She was a cripple and sup¬
ported her mother doing sewing. But
if she had been a royal princess Jim
couldn’t have treated her any better.
After he got on tho road he built her a
little house near us and there they lived
and there these little tots came into the
world. About a year ago a little boy
came to their cottage, but he only stayed
a day or so, and when he went back to
where he came from hc took the little
mother back too, and these little ones
were left behind. Jim never lost heart
though, but the blow nearly killed him.
Hc stood up under it as brave as a lion,
and you’d never have known from his
face, except that he didn’t smile the way
he used to, that he knew what sorrow*
was. One evening last week—it was an
off-day with Jim—he and Phillis was out
walking by the creek that runs through
my meadow by the red barn. It was
just dusk and my little boy was running
on ahead playing in the snow when they
came to the railroad crossing. Just as
they got there Jim heard a whistle. It
wasn’t time for the regular train, so he
wasn’t watching for danger. It was a
special and it was coming ’round the
curve like lightning. My little Jim was
playing on the culvert. Phillis heard the
wliistle, she saw the boy on the track,
and heard the rattle of the engine just as
if it was a dream. Then she gave a little
scream and fell down on the road in a
faint—”
‘'East Creek!” called out the conduct
or, as the train stopped again in the
storm.
“Oh! Uncle Bobl” cried the little
maiden by iny side. “Look out the
window. There’s Aunt Phillis and cous
in Jim and there's grandpa and grandma
and what a funny long black wagon that
isl Look! Look!” she continued as the
farmer gathered together Ills charges apd
started for the door. “They arc putting
a black box in the wagon, and Aunt
Phillis is crying awful hard.”
“Yes,” replied the farmer as he brush
cd away a tear from his eyes. “Yes,
that’s Jim Churchill, stranger, in that
box . - ”—Benjam it^g Northrop Hi in Graphic,
A London PdM1c School.
One of the miserable it districts of Lon¬
don is to be found in Somers Town.
Blocks of “Improved Dwellings” and
sundry measures taken by the parish au¬
thorities have recently reformed it to a
considerable extent. Yet it remains a
haunt of poverty. The petty tradesman
is the aristocrat of the neighborhood.
The police in its streets are all picked
men. The swells who go “slumming”
through it, according to the fashion of
the season, are looked at by the patient¬
eyed poor with the same wonderment
that butterflies in its alleys would create.
In the midst of this sordid district
stands a handsome new Board School.
It is as large as an average fortress of an¬
cient times. Its bounding walls contain
a space of two acres. Within the intri¬
cacies of the play-grounds and covered
courts and ground-floor passages the visit¬
or becomes bewildered. It reaches a
height of many stories. And here, every
day 2,200 poor children are being endow¬
ed with the inestimable benefit of a
sound education. It is indeed quite a
form in itself, filled with Lilliputians,
who can exhibit at times remarkable free
dom of speech and action. Their parents
chiefly come under the •following catego¬
ries : laborers, 335; cabmen, 97; coalmen,
93; charwomen, 78; joiners, 50; porters,
45; painters, 44; carmen, 44; stokers, 32;
bricklayers, 81; gas stokers, 25; stable¬
men, 25; blacksmiths, 25; fuctory men,
23; needle-women, 22; shoemakers, 22; -
slaughterman, <21 » nHmej- servant;*, Si;
costermongers, 19; bakers, 17; milkmen,
1(5; tailors, 10. Among the others are
sweeps, potmen, cat’s-meat vendor-,
hucksters, drovers, barmaids, barbers,
plumbers, sailors, mangle-women, etc.,
etc. The social state of the people send¬
ing children to this school may be indi¬
cated by the single fact that, out of their
number, 415 families inhabit only one
room apiece, and 1,030 inhabit homes of
two rooms. Tho families number six in¬
dividuals on thc average.
Theodore Thomns.
Theodore Thomas, whose name sounds
so Anglo-Saxonisli, is a native of Hanov¬
er, thc son of a noted musician, and be¬
longs to a numerous musical family. He
was a child prodigy, and astonished
evefybody by his violin playing when ho
was only 7 years old. At 8 hc gave a
public concert at the capital, and was
highly praised by the most careful critics.
Not long after lie was brought to this
country. His whole life has been devot¬
ed to the cause of music, and his devo¬
tion has borne good and abundant fruit.
He has unquestionably done more for
musical culture and advancement in the
United States than any 20 men who
might be named. The orchestra which
he carefully selected and has drilled for
years is not only the best, by all odds, in
the country, but is not surpassed by any
in Europe. Competent critics who at
tended the Bayreuth festivals during
Wagner’s life, where everything was as
neafly complete as possible, declare that
the famous orchestra was not a whit bet
ter than, and some think it was not so
good as, the orchestra of Theodore
Thomas. He has made New York one of
the great musical centres of the world,
Every new composition of any value he
introduces to us as early as practicable.
Enthusiastic admirers of music who have
spent years in German^ aro often sur
prised to hear in New York compositions
they have never heard in any of its capi
tals.— New York Commercial Advertiser,
t
- ■■■
What She Feared.'
“I understand, Mr. goftley,” said Miss
Muffin, “that you play the violin.”
“Well, yes, Miss Muffin, I—a—try to
play the violin.”
“That’s what I heard. You see, Mr.
Softley, wo are going to have a little
sociable at our house next Thursday
evening. I wanted to invite you, but
ma—she is so very anxious not to give
anybody any trouble—ma was afraid
that”
“Oh, no trouble at all, I assure you,
Miss Muffin,” eagerly interposed Softley.
“It will be a positive pleasure to me to
bring my violin.”
“Ye-o-s—that’s what ma was afraid
of.”— Traveller'* Gazette.
C'T j? 11P1/ RY A WH AI P !
1 J (
_
A Little Schooner Gets in the
Way or a Monster
_____
. , , „ , , JT . , - . „
S ver urnei an ragge. n o
Bight by the Leviathan.
*
^ t^hat and do I othcr know ammals about whales, of the sharks sea?”
f h ° od C ^ ter ,.° f tho bri S Mar y
1 \ 1
^ “ ‘
off hich brin 8 _
• ‘
Wi _ n (s o swear , , o. „
“In 1879,” he continued, after getting
hit pipe alight, “I owned a small schoon
er called the Ply, and I had her in the shell
tmoe. I used to gather them on Santa
Rosa Island, and from thence along tho
coast clear around to Cape St. Bias. My
cre« was composed of a negro, who act
ed rf mate, and two boys. Being a wee
bit of a craft and dodging among the
islands most of the time, we did not
need much of a crew nor any great
amount of seamanship. It was in August
of tuo year I have named that one after
noon we were about midway between
Santa Rosa and the cape, and about
fifteen miles off the land. We
were headed for the cape, and mak¬
ing about three knots an hour, tho wind
being light aud the weather fine. One
of the boys was at the wheel, the other
asleep, and the mate was splicing a rope.
I stood on the port bow looking at a
broken spar floating a few hundred feet
off. There was no sea on, and the Fly
was on an even keel. Suddenly, and
without a breath of warning, the
schooner was lifted clear of the water
with a great crash and flung on her beam
ends It so happened that no one was
thrown overboard, but before we could
exactly Understand what had happened
cra ^ turned turtle.
“The first thing 1 knowed I was on
her bottom, with one of the boys along¬
side :o’ me. I had a small keg o’ powder
in the cabin, and my first thought was
that vve were blown up. 1 didn’t cling
to tills idea more’n a minute, however;
for, :w I got the water „ut o’ my eyes, I
caught sight of a great black maw along
inn second, more, made mt ^he
great square head of a whale. The water
jist there was at least ninety feet deep,
but it had been roiled up until it looked
like a mud hole for an acre or two- around
us. I got it through my wool pretty soon
that we had been struck by a whale,
and that the old leviathan of the deep
was still alongside. In fact, I could
have touched his nose with a twenty-foot
pole.
“Now, one of thc singular things is
that we hadn’t seen thc spout of a whale
that afternoon. Indeed, it is rare for
one to run in so nigh that coast. Of
course, there might have been a whale
sporting around and we not seo him, but
the chances aro that that fellow had made
a run of several miles under water.
When he came up to blow he foumd the
Fly in his way, and hc threw her off his
j nose as a bull would toss a gadfly. Tho
blow must have dazed him, however, for
it was a good three minutes before hc
moved a fin. I could look into one of his
eyes, and by and by I noticed it take on
a malicious twinkle, and he gave his
flukes a flirt and backed off about a liun
dred feet. 11c was mad. He thought
he had been attacked by some enemy,
and he wanted revenge.
“Well, sir, that consarned critter was
coming for us. Being light, the Fly
was high and dry out of water, aud
offered a pretty fair target. He uttered
! a sll °rt, swung his flukes about, and came
j head on, striking the schooner fair amid
ships. He knocked the two of us twenty
f ee * h*to the water, and he made a hole
j in her side through which you could have
flimg a water butt. The blow broke her
fl ii U P> but as the water poured in she
°aiy settled down until her bottom was a
wash. When the boy and I got our eyes
clear we noticed that the yawl, nigh full
°f water, was floating a little way off,
and we made for it. While I hung on to
fhc bow he climbed in and bailed her out,
and in about ten minutes we were afloat
again. Meanwhile the whale had his
nose agin the upset schooner, as if smell
ing of her. She was between us and him,
! and it was a lucky thing for us. We
hadn’t so much as a splinter to paddle
with, and the breeze seemed to have died
awa y about the time the Fly went over.
“By and by old leviathan backed off
for another round. This time he went
J further, and he came faster, but as the
schooner had settled down he slid up on
j her bottom until his weight settled her
| down and let him pass over. As he
floundered over she rolled heavily to star
j board and his flukes were no sooner clear
! 0 f her than she righted herself. In so
| doiug both masts snapped off, and atan
| g ] e 0 f cordage covered the water. The
jq y hadn’t ballast enough to sink her,
but she was down until her rail was al
j most awash. The yawl was too small
Vol. VI. New Series, NO. 18 .
potatoes for the whale, or he reckoned \
on finishing the schooner first. lie lay
quiet for a short time and inode another
dash at her. Uc was kicking up such a
sea ^at wc couldn’t exactly make out
how he got fast in the wreckage; but fad
jj e got. There was such a tangle of ropes ;
that he probably drew some of them into j
his mouth. Then the fun came to a cli
max We had drifted away until well
dear of him> an( ] apprehending no im- j !
mediate danger. What a commotion
that chap k.cked up when he found
himself toggled! lie rapped the water ;
with his flukes until the sound could be
heard a milc awaV) and ho roUed his huge
bu , k to starboard and port until he raised j
a gea h enough for a ten-knot breeze. I
B and by he seemcd t0 get ratt , cd) Blld
ofi he went, towing wreckage, schooner,
and all ■' He mado thc most tremendous !
efforts to get clear, but as this was im- |
possib)et hc headed right out to sea, and !
at lcngth wa s lost to sight. About mid
nigh t that night we were picked up by a
C0Mter The mate and one of the boya
WMC clean obabl drowned under
the F , ns shc went ovcr> but the othel
boy _ now a man _. is Uving in Ne w Or
lea and can back ever statement I
have made.”-Yew York Sun.
Ancient Writing Material.
When the Prophet Ezekiel was com- j
manded to write about the city of Jeru- j
salcm, he was compelled to write his ac
count on smooth tiles, and we find frag
ments of such tiles to this day. The
, heaps of n broken , pots , and crockery . of r all ,,
sorts, which arc now so abundant ir, all
Eastern towns, prove that bits of smooth
stone or tiles were constantly used for
this purpose. The Island of Elephantine,
on the Nile, is said to have furnished
more than a hundred such specimens.
One of these is a soldo's leave of ab- 1
sence, scribbled on a fragment of an old
vase. How little those scribes and ac- )
countants imagined the interest wirt '
which their descendants would <%e day
treasure their rough notes 1 BtifNauaint
the ., writing ... materials . . , of , those ..
or were an
dent Arabs who, before the. time of
, Mohammed, T , i used , to . carve their . annals ,
ou the shoulder-blades of sheep. Tho
‘‘sheop^clrraniclcs* were stvntag .together,
and thus preserved. After awhile sheep’s
bones were replaced by sheep’s skin, and
the manufacture of parchment was
brought to such perfection as to place it
among the refinements of ari AYc hear
of vellums that were tinted yellow, others
white. Others were dyed of a rich p' 1 -
pie; and the writing thereon was in goiA |
cn ink, with gold borders and many
colored decorations. These precious
manuscripts were anointed with the oil of
cedar to preserve them from moths. Wc
hear of one such in which the name of
Mohammed is adorned with garlands of
tulips and carnations painted in vived
colors. Still more precious was the silky
paper of the Persians, powdered with
gold nnd silver dust, whereon were
painted rare illuminations; while the
book was perfumed with atter of roses or
essence of sandalwood. Of thc demand
for writing materials, one may form some
faint notion from tho vast manuscript
libraries of which records have been pre¬
served, as having been collected by the
Caliphs both of the East and the West,
the former in Bagdad, the latter in An¬
dalusia, where there were eighty great
public libraries, besides that vast one at
Cordova. Wc also hear of private libra¬
ries, such as that of a physician who de¬
clined an invitation from the Sultan of
Bokhara, because the carriage of his
books would have required 400 camels.
The Eiglit-Ilonr System.
“Papa,” said the daughter of a largo
employer of labor, “are you iu favor of
thc eight-hour system?”
“Well, daughter,” he answered, “un¬
der certain circumstances, I am.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” she rapturously ex¬
claimed.
“Why, my dear, why are you so inter¬
ested?”
“Because, papa, George has been only
staying four hours every evening, and he
told mo last night if you favored tho
eight-hour system he needn’t go home
nearly so early. You dear old papa, I’m
so glad you are in favor of it,” and she
threw her soft white arms about his neck
and choked off all explanations.— IFasA
ington Critic.
Another Cure for Stammering.
A writer in the Popular Science News
gives the following as a method for tho
cure of stammering: “Go into a room
where you will be quiet and alone, get
some book that will interest but not ex¬
cite you, sit down and and read two
hours aloud to yourself, keeping the
teeth closed, Do the same thing every
two or three days or once a week if very
tiresome, always taking care to read
slowly and distinctly, moving the lips
but not the teeth.”
.9 __‘
My Hero.
What signifies tho outward show?
What Signifies bis weal h or placet
When we the heart have learned to know,
What do wo care for form or face!
And what care wo for name or creed
That buried ages may unroll,
If under all wo clearly read
Tho record of a dauntless soul!
If lovnl toUissense of right,
If prompt and sure at Duty’s call.
Ho walks, as walking in God’s sight,
His aim the manliest man of aU;
If pltlfulof oUwr - g woos ,
Ho follows in the master’s way
And bears a blessing where Ue goes;
If, gaining much, he loses all,
AVI)ilc summer friends go coldly by,
lie proves his courage by his fall
Resolved to win tho day or die;
With hope alive, in God his trust,
He keeps a spirit kind and true.
And rises bravely from the dust
To fight his weary battle through;
If, working on through pain and loss,
His earnest soul be not cast down;
Ho beareth patiently his cross,
Wliilo winning steadily his crown;
The man’s hero! and we give
Tho meed of love, which is hii due,
No idle praise! but while we live,
The wreath of bay! the knot of blue!
—Helen Keith,
HUMOROUS.
“I smoothed everything over,” as tho
laundress said.
p le who wear pepper-and-salt suits
an; al iu seasou . I
v
The , selhsh , _ has most of _
man presence \
_ .
luni< ' ncver f°>guts mse f.
“Buffaloes are bred in Kansas,” it is
said. 1 hey are meat elsewhere,
It would seem as if “rifle matches”
were tho right kind for burglars’ use.
“This is my sphere, ” said a happy wife,
a s s!^ patted her bald-headed husband
A^rulc 0 ._, pate.
that works both ways-When
a fleet goes out on a cruise tho crews go
ou j on r j lc g eet
“Brass , _ bands , the ,,
arc on increase
throughout , the country „ ” Even __ at the dogs ,
wear* them ion their necks.
Teacher: “What animal is most ca
of claspt '•tAohiug itself leech. to 1 ' man? ’ Hgad ^
the “Tho
Can tho sound in a man’s head, when
his wife hits him with a rolling-pin, bo
describe d as a •“marriage ring?”
When a young lady tells a young man
that she will not have him, does it tie
him up in a beau knot, as it were?
/Lin!c Boy_p a , why does the world
move? p H ( th inking of something else)
because it finds it cheaper than to pay
rwd
“Well, that beats me,” the boy ex¬
claimed when liis teacher sent him to the
principal’s room to borrow the master’s
rattan.
Tho School of Patieuco.
My dear boy, if a man can only culti¬
vate patience and strength, it seems to mo
he will be a good neighbor, a pleasant
man to do business with, a safe man to
trust and the kind of a man the world
loves, even though he lack wisdom, and
hath no genius, and can’t tell a good
story or sing a note. How much does the
fretful, restless, hurrying old world owe
to the patient man, who finds his strength
“in quietness and confidence,” who can
bo patient with our faults, our fancies,
our wickedness; who can be quiet when
thc softest word would have a sting; who
can wait for storms to blow over and for
wrongs to right themselves; who can
patiently and silently endure a slight un¬
til he has forgotten it, aud who can even
bo patient witli himself. That's tho fel¬
low, my boy, who tries my patience and
strength more than any man else with
whom I have to deal. I could get along'
with the rest of the world well enough,
if he were only out of it. I can meet all
my other cares and enemies bravely and
cheerfully enough. But when myself
comes to me with his heart aches and
blunders and stumblings, with his own
follies and troubles and sins, somehow he
takes nil the tuck out of me. My strength
is weakness and my patience is folly,
when I come to deal with him. He tires
me. He is such a fool. He makes the
same stupid blunder in the same stupid
why so many times. Sometimes, when I
think I must put up with him and his
ways all my life I want to give up. And
then the next time lie comes to me with
liis cares and the same old trouble ho
seems so helpless and penitent that I feel
sorry for him, aud try to be patient with
him, and promise to help him all I can,
once more. Ah, my dear boy, as you
grow older, that is the follow who will
try you and torment you, and draw on
your sympathy, and tax your patience
and strength. Be patient with him, poor
fellow, because I think he does love you,
and yet as a rule you are harder on him
than any one else.— Burdette in Brooklyn
Eagle.