Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

tusmiiu huitiiif. MRS. A. P. HILL, Editbess. The attention of all housekeepers is invited to this Depart ment, and the Editress urges them to send her copies of tried receipts. Let us make this an interesting and prof itable Department. The Sunbeam. Sunlight is as important to the growth and health of animals as of plants. Every one knows that plants which grow in the shade are pale, sickly and tender. No dark, rich color beauti fies them until they are kissed by the sunbeam; and it is equally true of persons. Those who are confined to close, dark rooms never have the ruddy look of robust health common to persons who enjoy the genial, invigorating influence of the sunlight. Pure air and out-door exercise are fundamental physical law’s; to neglect them is to sow the seeds of life—long disease and suf fering. Children should be sent to play part of every day—when the weather will admit—where the sun will shine upon them, though at the risk of soiling their clothes. When persons walk for exercise, the parasol should not always be interposed between the face and the sun, j even though the complexion should be a little | bronzed; the loss of the lily will be more than : repaid by the hue of the rose. Plenty of sun- , shine should be freely admitted all over the house, though at the risk of fading the carpets. Sunbeam to mankind is no new idea. Even the ancient pagans understood it. “They wove bright fables in the days of old.” Their active, vivid imaginations peopled earth, sea and air j with divinities, and personified the agencies of j nature in many a “debonair romance.” The ! mythic story of Prometheus and the sunbeam embodied their idea of the life-giving, energiz ing power of sunlight. The story is this: Before the earth, sea and heavens were created, | all things, wore one aspect, to which we give the name of chaos—a dead, shapeless mass, in which, however, slumbered the seeds of all things. Nature interposed and put an end to chaos and discord, and separated earth from sea, and heaven from both. The fiery part being light est, sprang up and formed the skies; the air was next in weight and place; the earth being heavier, sank below; the water took the lowest toddling, wee thing espied close by the pave ment a sm$ll bank of sand, and quick as thought he was ankle deep in it, patting it and sifting it through his fingers to the serious detriment of the nice, white dress. And this stalwart man stood by, evidently enjoying the child’s frolic. It let a flood of sunshine into my own heart! After indulging the whim a reasonable time, the father said: “Come now, Johnnie, we must move on, or we shall lose our evening’s walk.” The child was obedient, though casting a linger ing look at the miniature house he had moulded so nicely over his foot; and though he dusted his hand upon his Sunday rigging, there was no reproof. Oh ! no, there was sunshine in John nie’s heart, and the father doubtless thought, better a soiled dress than that the sunshine should be clouded. I watched the pair as they passed out of sight, carrying with them all un consciously a silent orison and a large slice of my heart. In the moral as in the natural world, good and gracious results are obtained by simple, common means,—the frolic of the child, the voice of in nocent glee, “ Came into my soul like the sweet South That breathes upon a hank of violets, Stealing and giving odor." For a time, dark clouds were dispelled from a suffering, care-worn heart. Nothing can be more unwise and useless than to dwell upon the trials and vicissitudes of life. “Let the dead past bury its dead.” Better that we should open our hearts and let in the sunlight of hopeful possi bilities—adopt the battle-cry of the Crusaders, “God wills it! God wills it!” “nor bate a jot of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer right onward. ” Contributed Receipts. Dahs.—Make a pint of corn-meal into a thick batter with butter-milk sweetened with soda; salt to taste; two eggs well beaten; drop from a spoon on a hot stove-pan; bake just before served, in a hot oven. Mbs. S. Egg Custard.—Beat the whites and yolks of four eggs separately, then add two spoonfuls of the whites to the yolks; a tea-cup and a half of sugar; a large table-spoonful of butter; flavor to taste; bake in a rich crust. Take the remainder of the whites, beat with three table-spoonfuls of sugar, spread over the custards and return to the oven until a light brown. This quantity place and buoyed up the earth. The sky being j makes two custards. It may be converted into cleared, the stars began to appear; fishes took possession of the sea, birds of the air, and four- footed beasts of the land. But a nobler animal was wanted, and man was made. Prometheus •and his brother Epimethius were Titans, a race of giants who inhabited the earth before man was created. To them the Supreme Ruler com mitted the task of making this superior animal, and of providing him and the lower order of an imals with the faculties necessary for their pres ervation. Epimethius undertook to do this, and when the work was finished Prometheus was to overlook it. Epimethius bestowed upon the different animals the various gifts of courage, strength, swiftness—wings to one, claws to an other, etc.; but when man came to be provided for, Epimethius had been so generous that his resources were exhausted and nothing left for man. In this perplexity he consulted his brother, who with the aid of Minerva went up to heaven and lighted his torch at the chariot of the sun, and brought down the sunbeam to man. With this gift man was more than a match for all the other animals. Its influence gave him vigor, intellect, wit, courage and determination; and beside, with this fire he made weapons to subdue the other animals, tools with which to cultivate the earth, warm his dwellings, etc. Prometheus was the friend of mankind, and his good gift was the sunbeam. While this story may “sound dull beside the truth,” that “in the beginning God made the heaven and the earth,” etc., yet, discarding the “mythic fancy,” we may derive benefit from the interpretation of the hidden meaning. Says Johnston: “The relations which our bodies bear to the light is delicate and mysteri ous. Our feelings, and even our appearance change with every change of the sky. When the sun shines, the blood flows freely and the spirits are light and buoyant. When gloom overspreads the heavens, dullness and sober thoughts possess the mind. The energy is greater, the body is actually stronger in the bright light of day. While the health is promo- J ted, digestion hastened, and the color made to play upon the cheeks when the rays of sunshine are allowed to sport around us freely.” There is another kind and quality of suns- shine essential to health and happiness. I may term it moral sunshine. In the language of an other, “It is to give a heavy heart a little of the joy of your cheerful one; give to a forlorn, a lemon custard by grating in two small lemons. Miss H. French Pudding.—Put one quart of sweet-milk, a pinch of salt, half a box of Cox’s jelatine in a tin bucket; set this in a pan of boiling water; when hot, stir in the yolks of six eggs. Then have ready in a pan on the stove a tea-cup of hot water and one of white sugar. Pour into this the whites well whipped. Stir this together and then add it to the yolks. Take it from the fire, and when cool flavor with a tea-spoonful of vanilla and pour into moulds. Eat with cream or custard. In winter make it several hours be fore it is used. In summer it may be made the previous evening or set on ice. Mbs. K. Strawberry Short Cake. — Make a dough by rubbing into a quart of sifted flour a large table-spoonful of butter, the same or a little less of lard, one tea-spoonful of salt; wet it up with butter-milk sweetened with soda. Roll half the dough into a round cake half an inch thick; touch the top of it all over with melted butter; j roll the other half exactly the same size and j place on top of the first; bake in a quick oven without blistering. When done, shake the two cakes apart, spread over fresh butter and then stewed or canned strawberries. Pour the syrup around. Should not stand after it is prepared. Iced butter-milk is a delicious drink with this cake. Cream sauce is good poured over it. Mbs. H. [For The Sunny South.] Of Such is the Kingdom. BY MISS H. B. B. When Spring came, dropping her flowers into the lap of earth, she dropped a little birdie into our home-nest. A fair, white darling with soft rings of golden hair curling over the beautiful head; a rose-bud mouth, just made for kissing; and eyes—oh ! such star-like, beautiful eyes, in color like nothing in the world but delicate wood-violets; and hands—such tiny, fairy-like hands—always in motion, never still a moment. ; She was a darling, and oh ! how we loved her— with a tender, reverential love—as we felt that she was too fair, too pure for earth. The days went by and Summer came, but it brought no strength to our darling; the tiny limbs did not grow any larger. Summer went and Autumn came, and day by day we saw our flower fade before our eyes. She did not fret nor cry, but she suffered—oh! how she suffered!— so patiently, so uncomplainingly. What a les- friendless person a little of your large influence; son she taught us ! How often was her little give to a person in perplexity a little of your ex perience and counsel; give to a delicate, shrink ing nature a little judicious praise.” While you are pouring sunshine into the hearts of others, by a reflex influence your own heart will be cheered and warmed. ' And after all it does not require great, heroic deeds to make happiness for ourselves or others. It is oftener created by the small courtesies and amenities of life, op- ; portunities for which are constantly occurring if we are only attentive to observe and improve them. Unexpectedly a little ray of pleasant sun shine breaks upon us from some little crevice j not dreamed of. I was sitting, on a Sabbath evening in one of the early autumn months, upon the verandah of my boarding-house, wooing j the ministrations of my two gentle nurses, air and sunshine; feeble in health and depressed in spir its, "there were shadows upon my heart that seemed to outline the pictures of coming events.” My attention was attracted to the opposite side of the street by the approach of a father and child, the former timing his steps to suit the lit tle one. less than three years old. I say “father and child; they were strangers to me, but I felt sure they bore that relation to each other, from the tender, patient care evinced by the adult. It was evident the little one was leading him. The hand laid gently and caressingly on our lips, as if to still our murmurings. She was our guardian angel. We felt purer and holier in her presence, but we could not keep her. One sad September day, as she rested in our arms, the angels came for her; when the little hand was icy with death’s cold clasp, it was laid gently on our lips, and so she left us. She was happy,— we knew that she was; but we—how lonely we were. We wandered restlessly about the house. How we missed the little form gone out of our arms ! There was no longer any need to step softly and speak low; she could not hear us. H9W often we found ourself saying, “ Hush ! she is sleeping! Ah ! yes, she is sleeping; a heavy footfall will not disturb her now.” We sit down by the empty cradle, and our tears flow. “Oh ! if we could only rock her to sleep once more!” is the plaintive cry of our hearts; but we are comforted when we remember that the blue eyes that have closed on earth have opened in heaven. Oft in the still night-watches we feel the touch of that little hand on our lips, and our heart-felt prayer is, “Father, keep our treasure and let us meet again.” It’s a deep mystery—the way the heart of a man turns to one woman out of all the rest he’s seen in the world, and makes it easier for him to work seven years for her, like Jacob did for Rachel, sooner than have any other for the ask ing. I often think of these words: “And Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed but a few days, for the love he had for her.”— George Elliot. [For The Sunny South.] A Country u Tom-Boy M 011 Biscuit and Honey. BY J. T. R. In an old log house, a double log house, That stood by a river’s side, Lived a little girl, a raven-haired girl— Her father and mother’s pride. She’d be up by dawn early in the morn, And out of the house would glide. She could jump the rope and lather the soap, Or do anything she tried;— Could scale the fishes and clear the dishes While slower folks were yawning: When she was through she would chew gum tolu— Not a “ flip ” cared she for scorning. Though folks were about, she would “ giggle ” out At whate’er she thought was funny; And when they stared and gazed, and looked amaze, She’d eat her biscuit and honey. On a sunny day she would romp and play, Heedless of childish toys; She would skip o’er the lawn light as a fawn, And whistle just like the boys. ******* Now, she’s a grown-up girl; out in the world She adorns a queenly station. *Mong the noble and wise, her guileless eyes Are brightest in the constellation. And there’s a manly youth, well known forsooth, With lordly and noble air, Who knows there’s not a girl in Fashion’s whirl So handsome, lovely and fair. And ’neath woodland bowers he roams for hours, In quest of flowers rare; But the flower fairest, sweetest, rarest, Is the one with raven hair. Cupid knows this, and in infinite bliss From his quiver, as he flies, Plucks a little dart, pierces her heart, And softens her pretty eyes;— To the other then goes, increases his woes (Of her he nothing revealed); Then waved an adieu, and away he flew To work in another field. Both were sorely distressed—neither could rest; They were dying to meet again ’Neath mystic bowers, midst fragrant flowers,— Two hearts no longer twain. He goes, just like a man, with pen in hand, To pour forth his soul in verse; She first to sighing, and then to trying Some love-ditty to rehearse. On a clear bright night, on a moonlight night, At the close of an Autumn day, They met; tell-tale eyes and soft, truant sighs Said—pshaw! you know what they say. ******* They are now man and wife, living a life Honored by Hymen, methinks; But his lordship’s away—I’ll end my lay When I tell you what she thinks. She thinks there’s not a man in all the land Worth more millions of money. He has given her a name unknown to fame,— He calls her Biscuit and Honey. Eufaula, Ala., March, 1875. [For The Sunny South.] THE ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT —OF— ENGLISH LITERATURE. BY HENRY ETHEL WHITFIELD. CHAPTER III. SIB THOMAS MOBE. In 1480 was born one of England’s best and greatest sons. This was Sir Thomas More, the author of the far-famed “Utopia.” It would be almost an unpardonable error for one to attempt a sketch of the history of English literature, and to leave this distinguished per sonage in the background, after making simply a brief reference to him. And it may be said just here, once for all, that, in writing the his tory of any country’s literature, the biographical form must necessarily be adopted, to a consider able extent; for simply a dry enumeration of the names of authors, and a stereotyped com ment upon their works, would not suffice to im part enough living interest to the narrative. To all liberal-hearted persons, it is pleasant to search the annals of ancient times for men who have figured conspicuously upon the thea tre of life; and, having been so successful as to find a name upon which there rests no dark stain, it is especially cheering to pause awhile and take a more minute survey of this hero of the past, who once held proud senates enchanted by his eloquence, or guided the ship of state clear of craggy breakers by his sagacious states manship. Yes, and mankind are rather prone to slight the shining virtues of the living, and to beg of antiquity some splendid model of hu man excellence, by which to regulate their own thoughts and actions. Then, this being the true state of the case, it cannot be unreasonable to spend some time in studying the life and character of Sir Thomas More. In fact, it is extremely doubtful whether there has ever lived a man who was to him an exact parallel in some respects—and, at that, in those respects in which the majority of men are very much alike. Having been educated in the legal profession, he commenced the practice of law at an early age, and it was not long ere he had given strong proof of a vigorous intellect and a manly intre pidity. Soon after he became a member of Par liament, the King, Henry the Seventh, had brought before that honorable body a certain measure which was to enable him to raise a sup ply of money sufficient to carry into effect some ambitious designs. It seems that the obsequious members were afraid to offer the obnoxious bill a determined opposition. But young Sir Thomas rose in his place and attacked the King's demand in an able and patriotic speech—thus giving an earnest that he had a heart noble enough and a will fearless enough to defend his country’s rights against tyranny, although it came from the august monarch himself. By this course he gained the displeasure of the "King, and he even thought of leaving En gland for a time, to escape that sovereign’s ven geance; but he only retired to his home, and there occupied the while in pursuing his liter ary and scientific studies. It was not a great while, however, before Henry the Seventh died, and then his son, Henry the Eighth, ascended the throne. Now, our hero had nothing to fear; so he resumed the practice of his legal profes sion, and soon rose to eminence as a jurist and advocate. His brilliant career as a lawyer, attended by the most triumphant success, attracted the King's notice, and he was pressed to accept an honor able office in the government; but being of an independent nature, and but a poor courtier, he was unwilling to avail himself of any of the , numerous opportunities that were now offered him for basking in the fickle sunshine of royal favor. He seems to have understood the charac ter of his master perfectly; and he once remarked that the King would sacrifice his head, if it was , necessary to do so. in order to have some ambi tious scheme carried out. Indeed, he seems to have gone through life with a fixed foreboding that an unfortunate end was awaiting him ! Yet he was finally constrained to yield, and become an official, in spite of himself. After the fall of the celebrated Cardinal Wolsey, .Sir Thomas was installed as Chancellor of the realm. This was the chief official station in the king dom. and he undertook the weighty responsibil ities incident to that position with much reluc tance; but, when once seated upon that lofty pinnacle of grandeur, he bethought himself only of dispensing justice to all to whom it was due; and he fulfilled his duties faithfully, “without hope of reward or fear of punishment.” As illustrative of his singular probity, it will not be amiss to relate a conversation between him and one of his sons-in-law. Mr. Dauncy had married one of Sir Thomas More's daugh ters, and had, in all probability, proved a duti ful son; but he, very naturally, felt an honest desire to do something for himself in the way of making money. So on one occasion he addressed his father-in-law as follows: “And since I have married one of your daugh ters, and attended upon you always at your house, I think I might expect to get something, too. But you are so ready to hear every man, poor as well as rich, and your doors are so open to all who come, that there is no getting under you. Whereas otherwise, some for friendship, some for kindred, some for profit, would gladly use my interest to bring them to you. I know I should do them wrong if I should take anything of them, because they might as readily prefer their suits to you themselves; and this, though I think is very commendable in you, yet to me, who am your son, I find is not profitable.” Sir Thomas, after offering some consolation, concluded by saying: “ Howbeit this one thing, son. I assure thee on my faith, that if the parties will call for jus tice, then though it were my Father whom I love so dearly stood on one side, and the Devil whom I hate extremely, stood on the other, his cause being good the Devil should have Right.” About this time the King was earnestly engaged in his endeavors to deprive Queen Catherine of her rightful position as queen consort. The alleged motive was that she had been the wife of Henry’s elder brother, and that, therefore, his Majesty had been guilty of a heinous crime, in the sight of God. in taking his brother’s widow to be his wife. The King affected to be wonder fully conscientious all at once, and even went so far, in his infamous liyhocrisy, as to lament the j unfortunate event that had caused him to have unlawful intercourse with her who had been the wife of the former Prince of Wales. He must, indeed, be a credulous man who believes the King to have been sincere in his professions. The real cause of this extraordinary burst of religious enthusiasm was just this: There was in the retinue of Queen Catherine a beautiful young lady, whose name was Annie Boleyn. His Maj esty became enamored of the charms of this fair maiden, and conceived a mad passion for her. He could not put bounds to his desires, and he was determined, at all hazards, to possess her, even if it should be through the shame and wretchedness of Catherine, who had been to him, for the space of many long years, a true, loving wife. However, it was a matter of importance to have ! the act sanctioned by all whose opinion was likely to be respected by the gazing world; and i as Sir Thomas More was the foremost subject in the whole realm, he was asked for his approba tion. But he was too good a man to sanction so cruel a deed, though his dissent was given in the most respectful manner—so much so, indeed, that his Majesty was constrained to excuse him very graciously, and seemed not to take umbrage at the unflinching steadiness of the subject— though that firmness was exercised in opposition to one of the most ardent desires that ever burned in the breast of that ferocious tyrant, than whom, with one exception, a baser despot never sat on the English throne. Thus fortunately did Sir Thomas weather this storm; but, unfortunately, it was only the noisy prelude to the yet more fearful tornado that was soon to follow. j Step by step had Henry gone in his breach with the Pope, and it now became evident to men of discernment that it had been made far too wide and deep to be healed. More was dis tressed at this sight, for he was a sincere Roman Catholic. He accordingly prevailed upon the King, through the intercession of the Duke of Norfolk, to accept his resignation, and then retired to his quiet home. He had not been very long in this retreat when he was, on a frivolous J pretense, brought to trial for treason. King Henry had caused himself to be declared the Supreme Head of the Church of England; but More would not give in his adhesion thereto, i as it—the act of supremacy—did away with the authority of the Roman pontitt’. This was an other cause of complaint against the ill-fated man; and he was brought to trial for his life,— not that he had ever committed any act that could be construed into treason, but simply to gratify the revenge of a cruel sovereign, who thirsted for the blood of the man who was, of all others, the most deserving of his esteem. He managed to totter along, by the aid of a cane, to the hall where the court was awaiting him. He was allowed to make a defense; but he was top feeble to stand, and a chair was given him. The argument he made in his own behalf is a masterpiece of cool, calm, deliberate dis course, and it would, no doubt, be highly inter esting to the reader to have it all before him; but space will not allow it, and he must rest content with an extract. The speech began as follows: “When I think how long my Accusation is, and what heinous crimes are laid to my charge, I am struck with fear lest my Wit and Memory [both which are decayed, together with the health of my body, through a long Impediment contracted by my imprisonment) be not now able to answer these things on the sudden, as I ought, and otherwise could. There are lour principal Heads, if I am not deceived, of this my Indictment, every one of which, God will ing, I propose to answer in order. To the First that is objected against me, that I have been an Enemy out of Stubbornness of Mind to the King’s Second Marriage, I confess that I always told his Majesty my Opinion of it as my Con science dictated to me; which I neither ever would or ought to have concealed. But I am so far from thinking myself guilty of High Treason upon this account, that on the contrary, I being demanded my Opinion by so great a Prince in a matter of such Importance, whereupon the Qni- etness of a Kingdom dependeth, if I should have basely flattered him against my own con science, and not uttered the Truth as I thought, then I should have been accounted a wicked Subject, and a perfidious Traitor to God. Herein however if I had offended the King—if it can be an offence to tell one’s mind plainly when our Prince asketh us—I suppose I have been already punished enough for this Fault with most griev ous Afflictions, with the Loss of all my Goods, and with perpetual Imprisonment; having been shut up already almost these fifteen Months. ” After proceeding some further he was inter rupted by the Attorney General, who informed him that, although they could charge him with no overt act of treason, in regard to his denial of the supremacy of the King, yet his very silence was that which condemned him. To this child like, villainous accusation, Sir Thomas replied in the following forcible language: “My Silence is no Sign of my Malicious Mind, which the King himself may know by many of my dealings; neither doth it convict any man of Breach of your Law. . For it is a Maxim among < Civilians and Canonists, He that keepeth silence seemeth to consent. As for whai you say, that no good subject will refuse to answer directly, I think it verily the Duty of a good subject, except he be such a subject as will be an evil Christian, rather to obey God than Man. and to have more care of offending his Conscience than of any other matter in the World; especially if his Con science procure neither heavy scandal, nor sedi tion to his Prince or Country, as mine hath not done: For I here protest unfeignedly that I never revealed it to any Man living.” The above is but a portion of a speech ot some length; and it would be not very inappropriate to give a full account of the proceedings, but it would consume rather too much time and space. Therefore, it need only be said that Sir Thomas was found guilty by this partial tribunal, and sentenced to “Be carried back to the Tower of London by the help of the Sheriff, and from thence drawn on a Hurdle through the City to Tyburn, there to be hanged till he be halt dead: after that cut down yet alive, * * * his lour Quarters set up over four Gates of the City, and his Head upon London Bridge.” This terrible sentence having been pronounced by the court, he was asked whether there was anything more that he might feel inclined to allege in his own vindication, and the following is the reply this noble man gave utterance to; “I have nothing to say. my Lords, but that like as the blessed Apostle St. Paul was present and consented to the death of Stephen, and kept their clothes who stoned him to death, and yet be they now both twain Holy Saints in Heaven, and shall continue there friends forever; so I verily trust, and shall therefore right heartily pray, that your Lordships have now been Judges on Earth to my condemnation, we may yet here after all meet together in Heaven to our everlast ing Salvation. And so I pray God preserve you all, and especially my Sovereign Lord the King, and send him faithful Counsellors.” (TO BE CONTINUED. ) [For The Sunny South.] A MORNING’S TRIALS. Soft slumbers wrapped my senses in dreamful bliss; heavenly scenes surrounded me; high away on the highest throne sat the Son nearest the Father; angels breathed their hallelujahs and the notes were carried on elysian harps to the dome of heaven’s cathedral and echoed with a thrill, loud, intense and gloriously sacred. Hist! What voice is that beyond the heavenly portals ? Only the Peri warbling her song and bringing the drop of blood that she may enter the gates of pearl. Not yet, Peri,— “ Holier far than e’en this drop the boon must he That opes the gates of heaven for thee.” But the Peri spoke with my brother’s voice, “Susan ! Susan, get up; I want breakfast.” No heaven, no angels; and I am only Susan, after all; so I turned on my pillow. “A little more sleep, a little more slumber, a little more fold—” | Y’es, I was gone— fast asleep. “Susan, Susan, will you never wake? The cook is gone; for mercy’s sake get up and see about breakfast.” “Yes—yes, I am up;” and in a few moments had donned my wraps, and was deep in the mys teries of the kitchen. The fire in the stove blazed and crackled merrily. The black cook ing-pans were getting rosy in the animated warming pp. The water simmered, bubbled, and threw out its steam, reminding me of the long-ago when genius saw in the rising and fall ing of a kettle-lid the the embryonic iron-horse plowing his way through the trackless forest. The soft, snowy flour was in the tray waiting for the ingredients. The chicken was prepared for broiling; I understood the process thor oughly, and soon had it cooked rich and brown, and putting it in a dish, placed it near the stove to keep warm. A squirrel skinned and salted lay stretched in its four-legged propor tions ready for cooking. I scarcely knew how to begin about it, but decided at last to extend it in a long pan and fry it entire; but it scorched at all the joints and would not cook, and worse, the eyes in its stiff, naked head glared at me with a reproachful, heinous stare, like that which some doomed, sin-cursed spirit might cast up from the molten mass of a burning Youtarers. I turned it over, changed its position again and again, but to no purpose; the wide-open eyes preserved their horrible fixedness. I walked around the stove, here, there and everywhere, but all in vain—I had no power to resist the fearful mesmerism of those dead eyes; and I looked, shuddered, gazed, trembled and looked again. Making a desperate effort, I threw my self into a chair at the eastern window. The king of day “on wings of glory ” was whirling on his way. Dull, gray clouds were blushing at their own pallor before the burnished glory of the new-born light. Brighter, brighter it glowed. The gray clouds were gone, and the oriental sky was one intense, fiery splendor. Clatter !—clat ter !—s-mash ! What is it? The thieving, vil lainous dog ! My dishes, chicken and hot waffles were lying in fallen majesty on the floor. “ Oh ! I can’t see what to do !” This was literally true, for tears blinded my eyes, and like most girls I sat down to have a “good cry.” “ Oh ! do not cry; I can manage it.” It was my mother’s pleasant voice that spoke. She had eggs and cold meat, and could dispense with my chicken. “ But, oh !” and her eyes laughed merrily, “ I fear your squirrel will not be tender; but never mind—it will do.” I let her finish cooking the breakfast. After a time, she gave me a dish. “Carry this in; breakfast is done.” I held my hand for it without looking and went into the dining-room: hut just as I started to put the dish down, I glanced into it, and hor ror of horrors!—there sat the squirrel, brown and crisp, with its dead eyes glaring, staring, flaring at me. My soul sickened, my strength gave way, I dropped the dish, screamed when the squirrel fell on me, reeled, staggered and fell. My dear mother came in, and seeing my pitiable condition, actually laughed, hade me go to my room and make myself presentable. I obeyed her, feeling like a tired, whipped child. But I ate no squirrel for my breakfast, nor have I ever been able to partake of it since. Yet that morning of miseries was not without its lessons, for I have learned to rise early, so that a morn ing’s golden-tinted eastern sky has lost some of its novelty. I have learned to love and to com mit to memory’s faithful tablet the domestic re ceipts of Mrs. A. P. Hill, published in The Sunny South ; and more, I have learned that all- important truth, “That civilized man cannot live without a cook.” Girls should be warned of the danger they run in marrying railroad brakemen. An enthu siastic member of that fraternity, on being awak ened the other night from a dream of an im pending crash by a train, found himself sitting up in bed, holding his wife by the ears, having nearlv twisted her head off in his frantic efforts to “down brakes.” “ Oub lights, though of the lesser ones, should be carefully trimmed, and every possible acces sion made to its means of burning and shining, however small a sphere of illumination it may be able to create in so dark and thick an atmos phere.” “ Some mourn the punishment of sin, hut not the sin itself.” i