Newspaper Page Text
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY. JUNE 26, 1875.
MARY E. BRYAN,
Editress.
Our Correspondents.
Pressure of work that could not be delayed
has hitherto prevented us from giving our cor
respondents the attention they deserve. But
now that improved health has enabled us in
some degree to “get ahead,” and especially since
the last page of “Twice Condemned” (which | there*was
story was written, page by page, as it was called [ lowed with his friends, and instantly he and his
nothing else helps so in managing them. I
always keep a jar full in the closet to stop their
months when they begin to bawl or to quarrel
with each other.”
Doctors and philosophers might object to this
mode of managing children, but there is a great
deal of life goes on independent of the rules of
moral philosophy and of hygiene.
The great consumers and manufacturers of
bon-bons are the French. Fond as they are of
change, they stick to their old relish for sugar
plums, and at every birth-day or fete occasion,
there are presents of bon-bons put up in the pret
tiest parcels. The Italians also are great de-
vourers of these confections, and in many dis
tricts of Italy there is still kept up the old-time
custom of throwing sweet-meats to the crowd on
a wedding occasion. A traveler gives us this
picture of a marriage in the Alps:
“ Outside the church, we found the mountain.
The mountain had not put on its best clothes for
nothing. The people, with their black eyes full
of fun, were shrieking, laughing and dancing
round the church porch. The bride appeared;
merry shout; the bridegroom fol
for by the impatient typo) has been sent to the
printers, we breathe more freely, and turn with
pleasure to respond to the numerous correspond
ents whose letters, so full of kindness and en
couragement, have solaced many a dull or weary
hour.
So many of these letters are from ladies—from
our noble, large-hearted Southern women. Many
of them contain appeals for counsel and for help
in the way of obtaining employment, with touch
ing accounts of poverty and distress, such as
come in these dark days to so many who have
been reared in affluence. God and all true
men help these struggling daughters of our
sad land —these pale, sweet-voiced, modest, yet
brave-hearted women—too proud to accept char
ity, yet willing to take whatever work their
hands may find, and to perform it faithfully
and well.
True Friends of the Poor.
While the press and the public generally have
indulged in unlimited croaking over the disas
trous times and the fearful prevalence of poverty
and distress in our once prosperous country, a
few individuals of earnest benevolence, here and
there, have quietly and without flourish of trum
pets, set to work to mitigate a portion of these
evils and to prove their sympathy by helpful
deeds, rather than by idle words. Such a band
of workers is the Atlanta Benevolent Associa
tion. Organized only eighteen months ago, a
small society with a slender capital, their record
of good works would do honor to a far larger and
wealthier institution, and their energetic, eco
nomical management, their harmonious move
ment and fertility of resource, would reflect
credit upon older and more experienced organi-
zaticns.
As shown by the succinct and interesting re
port of Mrs. Mallon, the secretary, they have es
tablished a Home for destitute, indigent and
invalid persons; they have afforded relief to
one hundred and forty-nine suffering families;
during the past winter, they established a soup
house, which daily supplied nourishing food
to many who might else have perished from in
anition; they obtained surgical treatment for
afflicted persons at the National Institute; they
furnished work to many who only desired to be
put in the way of helping themselves—their del
icacy shrinking from the acceptance of charity;
friends began to throw over the bride’s head,
among the assembled folk, a storm of comfits.
Woe to the bridegroom who is mean on such oc
casions and economizes in his dealings with the
comfit merchant! No sweet-meats, no acclama
tion, for such is the custom of the country. In
the days of the old Romans, on occasions like
this, the scrambling ceremony was precisely
similar.”
During the carnival at Rome, the rain of bon
bons is immense. Fancifully and richly-attired
women shower them from their balconies and
carriages upon the surging crowd of maskers
and merry-makers below, and the ragged, laugh
ing beggars scramble and grab for them like so
many school-boys under the shaken limbs of a
cherry tree.
The sugar plum, as well as every other pro
duct of human ingenuity, bears witness to the
progress that has been made in civilization.
The confections of to-day are made of the same
saccharine substance that our ancestors enjoyed,
but the many ingenious forms in which they are
molded, their delicate tinting and exquisite fla
voring evince a higher degree of taste and refine
ment. These bon-bons are made into every con
ceivable shape—into the likeness of everything
on the earth or in the waters, from an elephant
to a mouse, from a bird’s nest to a cottage ornee.
We have shells and flowers, fish and furniture,
rings, thimbles, bracelets, hearts, hands, slip
pers; we have dainty, miniature demijohns and
decanters, very suggestive to the eye of spark
ling wines and brandies, and very likely, still
more suggestive of these to the taste; for one of
the modern improvements upon the bon-bon is
to make it the sly receptacle of liquors, so that a
young gentleman of the most straight-laced repu
tation, while appearing simply to regale himself
on an innocent sugar plum, may take a drink of
wine or a “brandy straight ” under the very eye
of his lady-love, who is perhaps a Grand Tem
plar.
It is said that the manufacturers of these
highly-flavored comfits are not at all inimical
to the temperance societies, and rather encour
age them than otherwise, for the reason—but
we leave the reason to be guessed, while we say
a word or two about the receptacles for sugar
plums, which are as various and beautiful as the
confections themselves, especially in France,
w'here the bon-bon box is a standard ornament,
and appears on the boudoir table of the grand
dame in the shape of an exquisite inlaid casket,
and on the pine table of the grisette in the form
they have procured respectable situations for
many poor women and girls, who but for their \ of a pretty piece of paste-board with gilt edges
timely aid might have added to the number of
vagrant paupers, or to the darker list of infamy,
the “lost, yet not dead.”
Where their slender treasury did not admit of
their giving pecuniary aid, they gave sympathy,
encouragement and counsel. In this connec
tion, Mrs. Mallon, in her report, recalls the
pathetic remark of one who, “longing for hu
man sympathy,” exclaimed: “Oh, that charity
would sometimes forget the pauper and remem
ber the woman!” She also bears witness, from
her own experience, to the blessedness of giv
ing, and the exquisite pleasure that follows act
ive exertion for the good of others, and which
makes charity its own reward.
A Chapter About Sugar l’luuis.
We have all heard Sydney Smith’s recipe for
happiness,—“a bright fire, a clean hearth, and a
box of sugar plums on the mantle-piece.” This
last seems a very small thing to be an ingredient
of felicity: but then happiness is made up of
small things, and dainty bon-bons are' not to be
despised as sweeteners of the human mood. I
have seen a sour old dame, cross as a caged
cat, sit and nibble sugar plums, which she
took from a box she always carried in her
pocket, until the saccharine particles seemed
actually to penetrate her system and neutralize
the vinegar of her composition; her frost-bitten
lips caught the ghost of a smile, and she deigned,
without much scowling, to bestow a slice of bread
and butter upon one of those “imps of chil
dren,” who were her special abomination—
spreading the butter very thin, though, I am
bound to confess.
And I have seen a woe-begone damsel, whose
Lothario had left her to wear the willow, solac
ing herself with comfits, lifting them slowly to
her month, one by one, with dismal sighs be
tween. and tears dropping down her cheeks
upon her chin and lips—a most ludicrous sight.
It was
First a tear and then a bon-bon.
Till the salt and sugar mingled.
So. I take it, Sydney Smith was right about
sugar plums being conducive to happiness in
adult as well as juvenile humanity. As to chil
dren, we all know that sugar plums are the great
soother of their woes, the mollifier of their tem
pers.
Most mothers have at times felt the force of
the indolent philosophy expounded by poor,
inert, slip-shod Mrs. Compton in Miss Leslie’s
charmingly satirical story of the “Sea Captain's
Return.” “Depend upon it, Barclay, there's
nothing keeps children quiet like candy; there’s
and a colored picture of Nilsson on the lid.
In France, the manufacture of bon-bon boxes
is a regular business, requiring the services of
skilled artisans in the making and decoration of
carton or scale-board. There is the artist who is
employed to design new pictures for the box
covers; the lithographer, who engraves them
upon stone; the pretty girls in white aprons,
who color them; the neat finisher, who glazes
them with pure gelatine, smooth and glass-like
as varnish, and then pastes them neatly upon
the box lids, gives the whole affair a brushing
over with gelatine and edges it with gold paper.
And then (we had nearly forgotten him) there is
the poet, who writes the bon-bon literature—the
kiss verses and rhymed mottoes, that are so pop
ular with the young folks who are beginning to
con over the old but ever new lore of love.
Think of the poor poet in his attic, obliged to
ring changes on the stereotyped rhymes of
“love” and “dove,” “heart” and “smart,”
“eyes” and sighs!” Obliged, too, to restrict
the flight of his fancy and tie her down to a
string of two or three lines length! But if he
is French, he will not mind it; so he can get his
bit of bread and cheese, and his pint of wine,
and now and then a bon-iion to sweeten his fan
cies, he will sit at his attic window and hum a
stanza of Beranger, while he strings out his mot
toes and sugar-plum couplets, feeling as grand
as Tennyson or Longfellow.
I'ive la France, rive la bagatelle, vice la bon-bon!
The National Copying Company.
A visit to the rooms of this company, on Broad
street, in this city, at the request of the courte
ous superintendent, Mr. Jas. Finley, convinced
us that we had done them injustice in our reply
to a Texas correspondent. The floating rumors
of inefficiency and unreliability, it seems, had
reference to a bogus company, which had taken
advantage of the reputation of the genuine com
pany and palmed off’ inferior work. The speci
mens shown ns displayed great efficiency in
reproducing and enlarging pictures without de
stroying or altering the expression of counte
nance, and those wishing such work done would
perhaps do well to communicate with Mr. Finley.
Window Flo wee Boxes.—Have boxes of suffi
cient depth made to fit the widow-sills. Put in
rich soil; plant with gay flowers—verbenas, gera
niums. petunias: these may be trained over wire
frames. At the end of the box plant some climb
ers; train on wires, up and around the windows.
These are very beautiful, and not troublesome
to take care of. Mbs. H.
Books and Authors.
Morals of Abou Bex Adhem. Edited by D. B. Locke
(Petroleum V. Nasbt.) Lee A Shepard, Publishers.
Sold by Phillips A Crew, Atlanta.
Satire is always acceptable. It is a weakness
of poor humanity for each individual member
to like to laugh a little cynically over the faults
and foibles of the rest. The satire of Petroleum
Nasby is not always refined or original, but he
has an easy, flowing, somewhat slip-shod style,
and all the popular slang phrases of the day at
his pen’s end. He very often elicits a genuine
laugh by his unexpected comparisons and absurd
conclusions.
The present book consists of a series of short
lectures upon the principal evils and follies of
the day. Novelty of plan is given to these by
stringing them upon a thread of plot which is
itself pretty highly colored with caricature.
Some out-of-the-way village of New Jersey is
one day invaded by a solemn, owlish-looking
stranger, with long, snowy beard and hair, and
eccentrically clad in a flowing black robe, con
fined by a belt. This sensational personage an
nounces himself as Abou Ben Adhem, philoso
pher, oriental magician, and transmuter of met
als. He is in reality a notable Yankee, Zephania
Scudder by name, hiding from the lynx-eyed law
under his oriental disguise, and having tried all
methods (except honest ones) of making a liv
ing. has now set up his crucible and his “dies,”
prepared to turn off counterfeit nickles, while
he passes himself off for a sage and a Persian
magician. As he treats his visitors with lofty
contempt, repeats that he is far above them in
wisdom, and sets up a stuffed owl, a couple of
skulls, cross-bones, etc., in his sanctum, the
credulous people accept his statement of him
self, and come from far and wide to consult the
oracle of wisdom. His satirical replies, inter
spersed with anecdote, and with a ludicrous
blending of Yankee and oriental “lingo,” con
stitute the lectures, of which there are twenty-
nine; rather unequal as to merit—some of them
being very amusing, and others commonplace
and pointless.
Here are a few sentences from the advice to
the country store-keeper, who fancied that he
had a soul above calico and molasses, and
yearned for political distinction:
“Young man, you see what fame is. In two
years, you will forget the name of the present
Governor, as you have forgotten the name of
the last. It would take five volumes to write
the biography of General Grant at the present
time; in fifty years, one volume will do for all
the generals of that unpleasantness on both
sides; and in two hundred, there will be a
couple of lines in an encyclopedia, in which
Grant’s name will be spelled wrong, and he will
be put down as having been born in New York
instead of Ohio. My son, take my advice; go
home to your calico and molasses, and be con
tent. Fame is a delusion. He is happiest who
knows the least and is the least known. The
wise man despises himself, because he only
knows what a consummate donkey he is—which
is not cheerful for him. ”
Here is his estimate of literary fame:
“Bottled moonshine is granite for solidity be
side it. Shakspeare was supposed to be entitled
to a permanent place in the memory of man;
but there are those in each generation who write
books to show that it was not Shakspeare, but
some other fellow, who wrote his plays and
things; and at the Shah’s Theatre, the ‘Black
Crook’ fills it, while ‘Julius Caesar’ is played to
thin houses.
“I pined for immortality, and once methought
I had attained it, and would cease my labors and
rest on my laurels. For a month I did nothing,
and the public promptly forgot that there ever
had been such a person. The bill-poster went
blithely forth, and over the posters which had
my name on them he pasted others, announcing a
new name. I was buried alive. What, thought I,
is fame, when it is at the mercy of a bill-sticker ?
I Even when in the zenith of my T glory, it was
gilded misery. I opened letters by the bushel,
from the Lord knows who, inviting me to lec-
j ture for the benefit of the Lord knows what,
and they did not enclose postage stamps to pre
pay replies. I spent one-half my time in send
ing autographs to my admirers, and the other
half and all my money- in sending photographs
i to people who have shoved them out of their
j albums long since, to make room for the next
famous man. And this is fame !”
i Of politics, he says:
, “I never knew but one man who ever saw any
good in it. He remarked that he liked it be
cause, next to counterfeiting and bigamy—two
things he doted on—there was in it the grandest
opportunity for developing dormant rascality.”
Of course, he has a laugh at the expense of
the “weaker sex.” He tells four or five amusing
stories illustrative of their vanity-, faithlessness,
and coquetry, and their tyranical proclivities
after marriage.
In reply to the young man of Cairo, who pro
pounded to him the query, “Great Abou, is
there any such thing as everlasting constancy-
in woman?” the sage, comfortably smoking his
chiboque before his tent door, relates to him a
story of “real life,” in l’ankee-oriental sty-le—
the story- being a burlesque on the emotional
novel of the period. Two lovers, being about
to part for a time, swear eternal constancy to
each other. The youth of manly form and
beautifully-parted back hair, thus adjures the
fair being of his idolatry;
“ ‘Zara, I doubt thee not, but swear it—swear
that through good and evil report, for time and
eternity, thou art mine! Swear that you love
me now. and that with me or away from me,
thou wilt love me forever !’
“‘I swear,’ returned Zara; ‘forever and for
ever !’ /
“And they fell into each other’s arms and
wept tears of love and agony down each other’s
backs.
“ One year elapsed. A gallant soldier was
standing at the door of an humble cottage.
’Twas Ynsef. He had returned unscathed by
bullet, bayonet or blade. He had been in the
commissary department, and had snuffed the
battle afar off.
“ ‘Mother !’ hissed he, “tell me—Zara ’
“ ‘Was married precisely- eleven months ago,
my son, to one of the first gentlemen of Cairo,
who made a big thing out of an army contract.’
“ ‘Married !’ hissed he through his clenched
teeth, and smiting himself twice upon the fore
head. ‘ Married !’
“ ‘Certainly, my son,’ replied the mother,
wringing out a shirt calmly; ‘about a month
after you were drafted. ’
“ ‘Tell me, did her paternal parent on her
father’s side compel her thus to sacrifice her
youth and beauty. Were not his notes going to
protest, and did not this rich villain offer him
the alternative of her father’s ruin or her hand?’
“ ‘Nary. She laid for him until she gobbled
him.’
“ ‘Oh ! does she never speak of me ? Has she
not grown pale and wan ?’
“ ‘Not a wan. She's as fresh as a peach—the
gayest of the gay. She leaves her baby dosed
with soothing syrup, and she flaunts at the opera
and the fancy balls, while I wash shirts at fifty
cents a dozen ! Bismillah ! such is life !’
“ ‘Destruction !' muttered Yusef. ‘I will meet
her; I will confront her. I will taunt her with
her faithlessness, and then ’
“And uttering a despairing shriek, he flung
himself from the house.”
[For The Sunuv South.]
SKELETON LEAVES.
BY MBS. B. MALLON.
XO. II.
On account of the delay in the appearance of
my former article, it is doubtful whether any
success may be had during the present season
with the leaves of the elm. If any of these
leaves are tried, they should be gathered from
the stems of this year's growing.
SHORTER PROCESSES.
There are shorter processes for obtaining leaf
skeletons by the use of certain caustic leys; but
after a thorough trial, I am satisfied that the
chemicals used so affect the fibre of the leaf that
however perfectly they may have been bleached,
they become yellow much sooner than when pre
pared by the use of water alone.
THE PREPARATION OF FERNS.
In gathering ferns, the same care should be
observed in their selection in one respect as in
the selection of leaves. The more delicate they
are, the more beautiful and the less the risk after
being bleached of their turning yellow, and thus
marring the beauty of the most perfect bouquet.
Reject all that have heavy, woody stems. Re
member that they cannot be skeletonized, but
bleached only, and therefore they must be as
fragile as possible.
The delicate and graceful maiden’s-hair must
be gathered now. A few others are already suf
ficiently matured to gather. Residents in At
lanta will find the neighborhood of Ponce De
Leon rich in maiden’s-hair and other delicate
ferns; and during the month of August, whole
days of pleasure and profit may be spent on the
Northwestern slope and around the base of Stone
Mountain, where ferns in abundance can be
found of the most rare and beautiful descrip
tion.
The choice of ferns suitable for use must be to
a great extent a matter of individual experiment.
Botanical names will be no guide to a large pro
portion of my readers, and verbal description is
altogether impossible.
When gathered, press them under a heavy
weight and lay them aside for bleaching.
BLEACHING.
When the leaves are fully macerated and are
ready to be freed from the decomposed cellular
matter, have at hand a basin of warm water and
a shallow saucer or plate. Place the leaf in a
small quantity of water on the plate and rub the
surface gently with the finger. The epidermis
of the leaf will readily become ruptured, and
the cellular matter will float off, leaving the
skeleton exposed.
When all the skeletons are prepared, place
them in another vessel of water, carefully reject
ing those that have been torn or injured in any
way. In order to dry the skeletons, float them
upon the surface of a basin of water and lift
them carefully out upon a piece of porous paper.
Absorb the moisture with the folds oi a soft
towel, and place them in a book to dry.
Ferns, leaves and seed-vessels being prepared,
the next and most important process is the
bleaching. It is an operation requiring the
greatest care, and will tax to the utmost the skill
and patience of the operator.
Upon the perfect whiteness of the several parts
of the bouquet its beauty depends. The least
shade of their original yellow must be consid
ered a blemish. The first step is to procure the
proper bleaching material. Many persons are
successful in the use of chloride of lime; others,
myself among the number, altogether prefer
Labarraque's solution of chloride of soda. This
is an imported article, and when perfectly sealed,
is wholly reliable. Most American preparations
are valueless for this purpose, but residents in
or near Atlanta will find a preparation made by
Dr. Schumann in every respect equal to Labar
raque's in its best condition.
When ready to commence the bleaching pro
cess, take a glass jar with a wide mouth, such as
is used for preserves or pickles, and fill it with
the purest tepid water, adding the bleaching so
lution in the proportion of half a small tea-cup
ful to a pint of water.
Select for the first trial a few of the coarsest
leaves. The bleaching process can be hastened
by first immersing the leaves in pure water for a
few hours, thus preparing the fibre to be more
readily acted upon by the bleaching solution.
This is especially desirable with ferns.
Cork the jar tightly and set it in a window in
the sun. A jar of leaves will require from six to
twelve hours for bleaching. All observations
can be made throngh the glass, thus avoiding the
necessity for removing the cover.
Here, I must leave the operator to herself; ex
perience alone in this stage of the process will
insure success. But I advise that but a few
leaves at a time be bleached, so that if the first
attempt shall fail, there may be others left for a
second trial.
As ferns are so abundant and do not necessi
tate loss of time in their preparation, the begin
ner can use them for acquiring skill in bleach
ing leaves.
When the leaves or ferns become pearly white,
lift them carefully from the jar and place them
in a basin of cold water. A slender ivory cro
chet needle will be found very useful in hand
ling the leaves from this time until they are dry. _
Remove all the chlorine remaining in the leaves supplications in his behalf by asking the prayers
by changing the water several times. Then, as °f a company of Christian ladies, entire strang
ers to him. To this day he is unknown to them
in name or person. He lived three hundred miles
from them. His history was detailed to them
and they resolved to concentrate prayer upon
him for a time, and see what God would do.
They prayed specifically for his moral reform,
for the revival of his Christian faith, for his con
version as a child of the covenant. They per
sisted in prayer, agreeing that each one should
bear him on her heart in secret communion with
God.
“ The result is soon told. At about the time
his case was first named to that praying circle,
with no knowledge on his part that they were
interested in him, he suddenly dropped the use
of intoxicating drinks; and from that hour he
has been absolutely free from alcoholic craving.
Within a week the cavils of the awakened man
at the doctrines of religion ceased. Then his
prejudices against Christian usages and people
gave way. The coat of mail which he had worn
for twenty years dropped from him and his heart
lay bare to the power of truth and the Holy
Spirit. His childhood’s faith returned to him,
freighted with the teachings, and the songs, and
the prayers of a sainted mother.”
[For The Sunny South.J
THE WITNESSES.
BY FLORENCE HABTLAXD.
“Alas! we grope blindly through the Infinite; we cannot
fathom His mysteries—we simply wait.”
The day was dying royally. There fell
From the wide west such floods of burning light,
The earth lay glorified—breathless aud still
As if the smile of God were resting there.
Care for a while folded his weary wings;
Crime fled away, the bright heaven seem’d so near,
And hid his haggard form; the toil-worn hand
Drooped idly; Nature paused.
In happy homes,
Glad eyes were lifted to the sunset sky,
While glad lips murmured, “ It is sweet to live.
For life is beautiful!” But other eyes,
Hollow and wet with despairing tears,
Looked upward at the glory wistfully,
And pale lips quivered with the prayer—to die l
But over all alike the evening light
Fell solemnly.
Hark! on the quiet air
Soft music trembles,—’tis the vesper chime
Calling to prayer. In the deep, holy calm,
The bells ring pleadingly, and worldly hearts,
Long callous to pure thoughts, melt for a while
To dreams of God and heaven.
A fair-browed girl
Steals from a stately home, and joins the throng
Seeking the house of prayer. Her bounding heart
Aches with its weight of bliss, for life to her
Has been a thing of beauty. Not one grief
Has thrown its shadow round her; care and pain
Are both unknown—unfeared; and now kind Fate,
Into her sparkling, rose-crowned cup, has poured
The last exquisite essence—the one drop,
Rich with surpassing sweetness, that should give
Diviner flavor, more bewildering light,
To the brimmed beaker. In its dream of love,
The young heart turns to God.
The organ’s swell
Peals thro’ the gorgeous fane; the sculptured dome
Rings with the deep-voiced psalm; and down the aisles,
Pillared and arched and dim, the tide of song
Floats dreamily. Then sudden silence falls;
And in the hush, while the spent day fades fast,
And lingering in far echoes, the deep spell
Of music haunts them still, the people pray.
There walks the streets, at this calm even-tide,
A girl once pure—still strangely beautiful;
Still beautiful, but wearing on her brow,
That should have shone yet with the lingering light
Of her first home—O God, that such should be!—
The brand of her lost womanhood. There lurks
In her dark, long-lashed eyes, a reckless fire;
And round her curved red lips a sneering smile
Plays mockingly.
She saunters slowly on,
Not heeding the contemptuous, curious eyes—
Unmindful of the pictured western sky—
When suddenly the solemn vesper chimes
Ring their soft call. The fallen creature turns
And listens eagerly. Old memories wake;
The reckless fire fades from her brilliant eyes,
And in their depths strange moisture gathers. Still
The bells ring on, and drawn by unseen hands,
She follows the sweet sounds until she stands
Before the house of prayer; then she shrinks back,
Cowering and trembling. It is not for her—
Vile, ruined one—to pass those lofty doors,
And hear again the solemn voice of. prayer—
The throb of sacred song. Once, long ago,
Before her mother died—before she sinned
To buy that mother bread—she, too, had knelt
In the grand temple, and had thought she heard
The song of seraphs as the great choir sang
The angelus. But now /—ah! nevermore!
Ah! never, nevermore!
She stood there still,
Pondering the bitter story of her life,
When in the gathering gloom the worshippers
Throng'd forth to seek their homes; and with them
came
The favorite of Fate, whom she had crowned
So royally. The glad girl’s radiant glance
Fell for an instant on the outcast’s face.
A frown knit her white brow; a scornful smile
Trembled around her lips; and shrinking back,
Lest the soft folds of her rich dress should touch
The Magdalen, she passed her by.
A star
Swept to its station in the western sky,
And watched this meeting. In the darkening blue,
A mighty angel stood with folded wings
And looked upon it. But beyond them both
Pierced down the eternal eye that never sleeps!
The Power of Prayer.
Professor Austin Phelps, D. D., writing to the
Chicago Advance, says:
“A case has recently come to my knowledge
which illustrates this latter class of phenomena
with such clearness as to deserve record. A cer
tain man was of Christian parentage, the son of
an exceptionally devoted mother. Twenty years
ago he was a professing Christian. Through the
heedless advice of a physician in prescribing
alcoholic stimulants for him in a lingering dis
ease, he acquired the alcoholic appetite, became
intemperate, abandoned his Christian hope,
gave up his Christian faith, and deliberately set
tled down into a prayerless life. To all human
judgment, it was a case of utter and hopeless
abandonment of God. For twenty years his
Christian friends prayed for him against all
probabilities and hoped against all evidences.
That mother in her grave kept alive enough of
faith to forbid despair, and that was all.
“At length a heavy affliction befel him, the
direct consequence of his intemperate life. He
was not yet so obdurate as not to feel it. It
awakened in his friends a little, and but a little,
new hope that the time of his deliverance might
be near. They sought to reinforce their own
in the original drying process, float them upon
porous paper, taking care to lay every little del
icate leaf-point and fern-spray in its proper
place with the ivory needle. Do not dry them
as before with a towel, but let them lie a few mo
ments in order to allow some of the moisture to
evaporate before putting them in press. A much
heavier weight is necessary for ferns than for
leaves.
Those who wish to use chloride of lime as a
bleaching solution, can prepare it at home in
the following manner:
To three pints of soft, cold water, add half a
pound of strong chloride of lime; stir carefully
with an iron spoon, mashing the lumps well
against the sides of the vessel. Keep it covered,
and allow it to stand in a cool place until the
lime is precipitated. Remove all particles that
may remain floating on the surface of the water,
pour off the clear liquid into a bottle; cork
tightly and keep in a cool, dark place.
Half the quantity of this solution will be re
quired as of chloride of soda.
Do not become impatient in the bleaching
of ferns, and try to hurry the process: they re
quire days, while leaves require only hours for
their perfection.
If you have been picking or handling acid
fruits, and have stained your hands, wash them
in clear water; wipe them lightly, and while they
are yet moist, strike a match and shut your hand's
around it so as to catch the smoke, and the stain
will disappear.
To Stop Bleeding.—It is said that bleeding
from a wound on man or beast may be stopped
by a mixture of wheat flour and common salt,
in equal parts, bound on with a cloth. If the
bleeding be profuse, use a large quantity—say
from one to three pints. It may be left on for i
hours, or even days, if necessary.