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native tongue always in speaking to Marie. Mad ame Cavadeale, the widow of a Huguenot minis ter, taught her (as a daily governess) music, the modern languages, drawing and painting; for the rest she was indebted to her father. Marie was sixteen years of a^e when the great sorrow of her life (her father’s death) took place. He died of heart disease, without one moment’s warning, and the shock to poor Marie was very great. Judge Howard had lost, by the events of the war, the bulk of his property: so at his death, when Mrs. Howard came to the front, she dismissed the governess and all the servants ex cept her maid, sent Lillie off to boarding-school, for, she said, she knew if any good luck ever came into the family, it would come through Lillie, who she felt certain would make a splen did match. Since her father's death, Marie’s life had been one dead level. Mrs. Howard felt that every thing bestowed on her was taken from her dar ling. and Marie quietly submitted to her moth er's will. The only communication she had with the outer world was through Harry, who used to write regularly to her twice a week, and kept 4er au fait of all that was going on. He also came to see her twice a year; and these visits were eras in Marie’s calendar; she dated to and from them. But it was all over. He had stopped writing evbr since his acquaintance with .Julia Wilmot, and now he was going to stop his visits. Her heart was very heavy, but while he was with her, with woman’s devotion, she resolved to put her own griets out of the way, and make him happy if she could. As soon as she knew he was up, she went in and invited him up to refresh himself. “You will find hot and cold water, and if there is anything else you need, I will be happy to wait upon you,” she said. When she closed the door, Hand’s quick eye took a general survey of the room, which was a miracle of neatness and artistic taste. The book-shelves were poplar boards strung on wire, separated by empty spools, the whole stained to imitate rosewood, and were of Marie’s own man ufacture. So were the hanging shelves, brack ets, lambrequins, catch-alls, and a hundred other little knic-knacks. Ivy festooned the win dows. and exquisite pasteles adorned the walls. “Marie seems reflected in everything in this room,” Harry said. “Her own pure life is so beautiful that everything she touches becomes so." A tap at the door and Marie’s voice summon ing him to breakfast roused him from his rev erie. As he took his seat at the table, with Marie sitting opposite, looking so daintily fresh in her white dress and blue ribbons, he said: “Cousin Marie, what a household treasure you are! I do wonder if God will give me such a woman for my wife?” "Harry, God will not give you a wife. He gives all men sense enough to discern the true from the false, and if you persist in using only your eyes and not your common sense when you are searching for a wife, it is not God’s fault if you make a terrible blunder. If you want a household treasure, as you say, don’t hunt for her in a ball-room. You might take a hint from our storekeepers. When they want to sell ball room materials, they exhibit them in a room lighted with gas; for, as my favorite poetess says, [For The Sunny South.] TOO LATE! BY HARRY LEIGH. After the loving, came the wooing, The marriage, the giving, and taking; After the wedding, came love’s undoing, And sorrow, and love’s forsaking. After the sorrow, came the healing, The shroud, and the singing, and sighing; After the shrouding, came love's appealing— A strong man's passionate crying. [For The Sunny South.] A Postmaster’s Experience. BY MILTON T. ADKINS. I was once postmaster in the village of Slab- town. I doubt your finding the place laid down upon any authentic map, were you to examine with a microscope, and yet I do assure you Slab- town had a bona fide existence in the post-office directory. The office of which I was the honored incum bent did not pay a salary upon which one could go into bankruptcy with very flattering pros pects; yet I soon discovered that whatever of my net profits was lacking in worldly lucre, I could make up in edifying experiences. Some of these have left indelible pictures in my mem ory, and I often smile to myself as they rise be fore me through the smoke of my favorite meer schaum. First among them, comes to mind the long, lank, sandy-haired youth who came in one morn ing just after I had assumed the duties of the office, and staring at me, put the query: “Mister Postmaster, is there any letter here for any of the Bennetts ?” I looked in the “B” box, and informed him there was none. “ Is there anything for any of the Smiths?” “No.” i “Anything for any of the Browns?” “ No.” “Anything for any of the Coopers?” “No.” “Anything for Tom Bennett?” “No.” “Anything for John Bennett?” “No.” , “Anything for Jim Bennett?” “No.” “Anything for Susan Bennett?” “No.” “Anything for Jane Bennett?” “No.” After exhausting the names of the Bennett family, he took up the Browns, the Smiths and the Coopers, calling out each name in each fam ily. This scene was often repeated, with varia tions in numbers and names; but after the nov elty wore off, there was no variation in the annoy ance it caused me. Then I remember the customer who would come in and attempt to drive a bargain in the purchase of stamps. He would begin something after this style: “ Mister, can you let me have two stamps for a nickle?” He was informed that I could not. "What! won't fall one pent on two stamps?” “ Can’t do it. Two stamps are worth just six “ ’■ Colors seen by gaslight are not the same by day.’ " (CONCLUDED IN NEXT NUMBER.) (For The Sunny South.J MANAGING WOMEN. BY L. L. V. The good old Vicar of Wakefield tells us that though his wife prided herself much on being a good manager, he had never found himself to grow any rioher because of her management. We suppose this was said more for the purpose of making a pointed sentence than of telling a truth; for certainly so shrewd an observer as Goldsmith must have known, even if he were a bachelor, that a careful, thrifty wife who looks with keen eye over the res doini, and who always takes care that every penny shall bring its pen ny’s worth, will assuredly make her husband richer, though she may not always make him happier. Political economists are agreed that it is by saving more than by producing that wealth is accumulated, and this matter.of saving de volves mostly upon the wife. In most cases, it depends upon her whether the whole income shall be expended, or whether something shall be laid up for a rainy day. If economy be the creed, she must practice it. She is the commit tee of the family on the larder and the wardrobe. She must determine whether upon those two items of food and raiment the fourth, the half or the whole of her husband’s income be expended, or whether he occupy the very unpleasant but not very uncommon position of living beyond his means, which, in plain English, means liv ing on somebody else. Considered in a mon etary point of view, the “good wife” is no un important personage. But we would not give a woman credit for being a good manager solely because she ena bles her husband to place the larger figures on the credit side of his ledger. Many do this, and do it at the tax of so much patience that the har- rassment of debt would be more endurable. Their way is that of hurry and bustle, and they keep themselves and all about them in an element of fret and worry. Like Mrs. Povser, they insist upon having their “say out” on most topics, and unfortunately, their tongues have less the quality of salves than of blisters. They seem to think of management as Brigham Young does of marriage,—that the more they do of it the better, and consequently they manage everything from the cat up to their husbands. It would be un just to class these as shrews. They are simply women with a passion for ruling—Elizabeth Tudors in private life, who base their claim to govern upon the assumption that they know how to govern well. They certainly succeed in making all within their domain feel who is the controlling power. There are, however, “keepers at home” who are efficient and yet not fussy. They can do things well and do them quietly. With that agreeable tact—which, in a woman, is ten-fold more desirable than talent—they can control all the members of their household without letting them know they are controlled. In this system there is no hurry and no delay. Everything about the house moves like well-oiled machin ery. The meals come as regularly and as quietly as if they were turned out by an automatic stove. The beds seem to readjust themselves, and the dust takes itself away in some unaccountable manner. Even the “cleaning-up days.” which are the horrid nightmares of many a poor bene dict. are gotten over without leaving the impres sion that a cyclone had just passed. Such women deserve to be called "good managers. They create homes in the full sense of that sweet word. When the husband comes weary from the plow, the plane or the ledger, he finds in this love-lighted spot rest for body and spirit. Would each of our fair maidens like that the house over which she does or may preside should be such a house as this ? W ell, it may be so. Cultivate vour heart. Learn to be patient Do not be in a hurry, and do not bluster if all things do not move as swiftly and harmoniously as you may desire. Let peace be the one end aimed at before all other considerations. > My face is rugged, but I'm healthy; will you >" sa id he. “Yes, indeed, it’s knotty, s nice,” said she. cents.” “But, Mister, I think you might fall one I cent.” ! I would explain to him why I could not. “Well, give me one stamp, then, and the ! change. How long before they’ll get cheaper, I I wonder?” After making this heavy investment and caus- I ing a deal of trouble, he would depart, grum bling about the stinginess of the post-office. Then there was the old lady with spectacles and a blue umbrella. The first time she came | into the office, she asked: “Is there any letter here for me, sir?” As it was my first experience with her, I was obliged to ask her name. “Jane Smith.” As I had only a few moments before looked for all of the Smiths which a long-winded youth could remember, I told her there was none, witli- 6ut getting up and going through the form of a search. But she was not to be put off in any " such manner, for she made answer: “See here, young man ! you hain’t looked for it. You’re paid a big salary to lean back at your j ease and do nothing. I’ll thank you to git up ' and look for that letter.” I saw that discretion was the better part of valor, and complied with her gentle request. Of course I found nothing, and so informed the old lady again. But she seemed still disposed to contest the point. “I know there must be a letter here for me. Y’ou’ve got it lost. Look in them other boxes.” My patience was nearly exhausted; but, to avoid a scene, I took out all the letters before her eyes, and again announced “Nothing.” The old lady went away, muttering and grum- I bling that she would “sue the post-office if they 1 did not find that letter.” Another character with whom I had to deal was the man who wanted stamps on credit. He opened fire something after this fashion: “Mister, can you let me have a few stamps on a credit ?” I would explain that I could not—that the stamps belonged to the Government, and that the Government wouldn’t trust. “But I’ll pa} - you next week. My face is good for a few stamps, ain’t it ?” I hadn’t noticed his face before. The hasty glance which I now bestowed upon him con vinced me that the Government was right. “I cannot let them go that way, my friend.” Another troublesome customer was an old farmer who came in and wanted to send two dollars and fifty cents to the Mountain Bugle. I hastened to serve him; but when I gave him his receipt, he raised an objection. “See here, Mister ! this paper don’t state how much money I am sendin’. ” “It is in the usual form.” ‘ ‘ I don’t care if it is; I want a receipt for my money. These post-offices is dang’rous, and I want my money to go safe.” “It will be all right now, sir.” “Can I git it back if it’s lost or stole?” “Yes, if you can find the thief.” “But, Mister, I want a receipt that will hold this office responsible if the money is lost.” As I declined to give any other than the one I had, he finally concluded to send the money and “ resk it.” Again, I remember the customer who never received a letter, and who, in my humble opin ion. ne rer expected any, but who came twice or thrice a week and demanded: “Anything in the office for me to-day?” “Nothing to-dav.” “But you hain’t looked.” It was useless to explain to him that he had grown to be such a nuisance, and was so contin ually in my mind, that I would remember such an extraordinary event as a letter coming in his name. Nothing would satisfy this customer ex cept a search before his eyes. “I was expectin’ a letter, and I thought maybe it had come last mail.” It is my solemn belief that he never expected anything of the kind, and that he uttered a de liberate falsehood every time that he came to the office. He never sent any letters, and I don’t believe that he had a relative, in all the wide world, who could write his or her name. When ordinary experiences began to grow stale, my office duties were enlivened by an extraordi nary one. The fourteenth of February was near at hand, and the goddess of discord put it into the head of Dobbins, the chief shopkeeper of .Slabtown, to order a large assortment of comic valentines— hideous red and yellow daubs, conveying flings at every kind of folly and weakness. This kind of thing was new to Slabtown. and as it ap pealed to the universal spitefulness of human nature, it proved a grand investment for Dob bins. Everybody made secret purchases of comic valentines, and in a little while the whole | stock was bought out. The day before St. Val- j entine’s. Dobbins, chuckling and rubbing his j hands, assured me I would have a lively time at | the post-office next day. The day’s history of mishaps opened bright and early next morning by the advent of Miss Samantha Buggs, a tall, raw-boned spinster, who stalked into the office and asked for letters. I handed her a thick envelope, which she opened at once, when out dropped the picture of a hid eous. wrinkled old damsel kissing a horrid- looking poodle-dog. Miss Samantha muttered an exclamation of wrath, and approaching me, thrust the paper into my face. “Who sent that thing?” she demanded, in a voice that reminded me of Anna Dickinson when she yells at “Jen Dark,” supposed to be asleep in the tower. “Beally, ma’am, I don’t know, to save me?” I hastily exclaimed; and I’m bound to confess that I dodged. “Well, I know, and I’m a-going to make her pay for it, too. It wasn’t a soul but that old pursy Dorothy Jones. She come nigh mashing my poor Fido’s tail to sausage-meat with her number six foot, and got mad because I gave her a piece of my mind. I’ll make her pay for this—the spiteful old cat.” She had barely delivered this exhortation, when the veritable Dorothy herself stood in the door. She looked at the enemy a few moments in grim silence, and then, turning to me, demanded her “mail.” Although my knees quaked for the result, I handed her a couple of epistles. With eager hand, she tore the envelopes and devoured the contents, keeping one eye on the adversary. “Y’ou sent me that!” said she, as she brand ished her umbrella with one hand, while with the other she held the obnoxious paper under the enemy’s nose. “You sent me that!'" replied Samantha, as she held aloft the picture which had so excited her ire. “ ’Tain’t so !” returned the excited Dorothy. “’Tis so!” “It’s just like you!” squeaked Dorothy, as she pushed the paper further in the enemy’s face. “And this is just the picture of you !” squealed Samantha. “ I’ll sue you for slander !” screamed Dorothy. “And Il’l have you up for’sault and battery !” j yelled Samantha. “Y'ou will, hey?” and the fair Dorothy made a grab for the enemy’s back hair. “Leggo, you old fossil!” screamed Samantha, i “I’ll pull all the hair off your head if you don’t.” \ “I don’t wear false hair like you !” returned j the other. “You do !” shouted Samantha. “I don’t!” “ You do!” “If you had your crwn teeth, you could talk better!” said Dorothy. “If you had two good eyes, you could see | better !” returned the other. It was more than either could bear. They made a desperate grab, which resulted in the utter demolition of two chignons, one umbrella, j four comic valentines, and various other articles j too numerous to mention. I was about to interpose and command the peace, when the belligerents suddenly ceased of j their own accord, and after a moment’s repair- J ing, departed. After this lively commencement, I was just contemplating the feasibility of flight to the mountains, when others of the villagers began i to arrive. In the course of an hour, all the loaf- ; ers in the place were congregated in my office. Each had his hand full of comic valentines, and TEMPERANCE. [For The Sunny South.] TO THE GOOD TEMPLARS. BY H. E. SHIPLEY. Ages ago. when Art was young And Science scarce had birth. In clarion notes a tocsin rung O’er all the Christian earth. “To arms!'* it called, “ye chieftains bold, Ye serfs of low degree; Ye kings of men, both young and old,— Crusaders all be ye! Wrest from the Turk the sacred cave That held the Nazarene: Keep from polluting touch that grave,— On. on to Palestine!” With quick response, in numerous bands, Each eager for a part, O’er treacherous waves and burning sands Followed the Lion-Heart. Crusaders of this later day! A nobler cause, I ween, Have ye, than led in brave array That ho6t to Palestine. Immortal souls from deadlier foe Thau Turk or Arab lance, Ye seek to win,—oh! be it so!— That foe, Intemperance, We suffer, then embrace, ’tis said. Shall he then roam at large— This monster of the hydra-head ? On, Templars, to the charge! Death to this dread, insidious foe, Your watchword ever be— With willing bands and hearts aglow, Free men and dear country. Brave Templars in this blest crusade, Unfurl your banners free; Your pagans shout thro’ heaven's arcade— High notes of victory, Which, sounding down the years of men, A guerdon meet shall be Till Time is o’er, re-echoing then Through all eternity! Up, then, Crusaders! Such a meed Were worth a life-long fight. Shall Slander have a moment’s heed While ye battle for the right? Feel not Sirocco breaths of scorn; Turn Sarcasm’s keenest lance With Truth’s strong mail. At eve, at morn, Strike hard for Temperance! A Few Words to the Temperance People. Nearly a year ago, several temperance organi zations of Georgia adopted The Sunny South as their official organ. VVe were pleased, and felt highly complimented at this expression of confi dence in our enterprise, coming, as it did, be fore the first number had been issued. It greatly strengthened our own faith, for it was the official endorsement of a very large and respectable portion of the people of the State, and we re garded it as a tower of strength secured for our young bantling. The leading men of the differ ent temperance organizations were greatly elated at the idea of having at last a popular and per manent official organ through which to reach the masses; and their wisdom in selecting a literary or family paper, which had a fair promise of going into every portion of the State, was uni versally applauded. Our hopes were high. From this source alone we anticipated a very large support, and hoped the temperance cause would receive a new impulse. Each lodge and council, we supposed, would immediately order a number of copies, and thus manifest their readiness to encourage and support an official as each were opened, roars of laughter and rid- i or g an . g 0 confident were we on this point, and lcule burst forth, m which all lomed except the 1 . I cn an unhappy recipient. He invariably taxed some one present with sending it, and the result was generally a quarrel and often a fight. During the day, I counted thirteen quarrels, seven as saults and battery, and some fifty mad men and boys. Nor was the uproar confined to my little room. The whole town seemed to be bv the ears. As I was going to my dinner, I was halted on the sidewalk by old Mrs. Wiggles, who ran out and demanded to know who had sent her “dar ter that nasty, ugly valentine ?” I hastened to explain that I knew nothing of the authors of any of the mischief—that I had found them in the box properly stamped, and knowing nothing of their contents, they had been distributed like other mail matter. “Well, I don’t care who sent it,” continued the old lady; “it’s a low, mean practice.” I didn’t stop to argue with her on this point, A little further on, I met my special and par- I so anxious to have the paper well circulated among the temperance people, that we laid be fore them a most liberal proposition—putting it to the lodges and councils at just about the cost of publication. So great were our /expectations, j that we requested the organizations to appoint editing committees to assist us in making this department fill the requirements of the cause. | But in all these things we have been greatly disappointed. Indeed, we did not suppose it possible for people who profess to be interested in any cause to manifest so little interest in an official organ—in the mouth-piece of their Order. Not a single lodge or council accepted our prop osition. Our whole-souled Grand Worthy Chief Templar. Thrower, who is always ready to show his faith by his works, directed us to put down ticular friend, Harry Strong, coming down the Georgia Lodge for the twenty copies, and stated steps at the house of his lady-love. Faneyin_ he did not look as happy as a stray angel, I ac costed him: “ Hallo, Hal! what’s the matter?” “Matter enough,” said he gloomily. “It’s all up with me in there,” indicating with a nod of his head the house he had just left. “How’s that?” “Why, some confounded rascal has imitated my writing, and has sent her a comic valentine. It’s all up with me;” and the poor fellow passed on, looking the very picture of woe. Further on, I observed old Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Johnson engaged in animated discussion across a high fence. I didn’t stop to listen, but caught enough on the fly to convince me that they did not enter tain the most profound respect for each other. It all grew out of Mrs. Johnson's son Bob send ing Matilda Jane a comic valentine. Said Matilda Jane’s mother had taken the matter in high dudgeon, and had come down to give “them Johnsons a piece of her mini, anyhow.” I heard of various other quarrels and fights in different parts of the town. By night, the place was thoroughly worked up. Even-body was in a towering passion with everybody else. Neighbors who had been on friendly terms be fore wouldn’t speak to each other for weeks after this unluekv day. Training; for Society. Madame de Genlis, in her course of training for Parisian society, writes to a friend on this subject, when the ordeal was passed: “I had two teeth pulled out; I wore whale bone stays which pinched me cruelly; my feet were imprisoned in tight shoes in which it was impossible to walk; I had three or four hundred curl-papers in my hair at a time, and I wore, for the first time in my life, a hoop. In order to get rid of my country attitudes, I had an iron collar placed around my neck, and, as I squinted at times, I was obliged to put on a pair of goggles as soon as I awoke in the morning, and those I wore for hours. I was much surprised, more over, when my friends talked of giving me a master to teach me what I thought I knew—viz., how to walk. Besides all this training narrated above, I was forbidden to skip, run, or ask ques tions. ” Don’t use soap. A Brooklyn editor says that it communicates disease by being made of fat taken from dead dogs and cats. that if the lodge did not pay for them, he would. Finding that the lodges and councils would not accept that proposition, our brother Thrower prepared a respectful card, asking each lodge to take at least one copy of the paper and keep it on file for the benefit of the members. We sent a similar request to the councils of United Friends of Temperance. To this card two lodges re sponded, but no council. This satisfied us that the temperance people did not appreciate an organ, and that it was altogether useless for us to spend time and money on that department of the paper, and in consequence it has proved a failure. Two or three lodges and two councils have sent in small clubs of subscribers at the re duced rates, and there may be a good many tem perance men on our lists, but they were secured by our regular traveling agents, and at a heavy cost to the office. This, then, is the true history of the support which has been extended to our official organ by our temperance people; and as they are soon to meet again in Grand Lodge and Grand Council, we have thought it proper to lay the facts before them for their consideration. It is certainly a discouraging report, and when the fact is added that we have given them all the space required free of charge, and placed the subscription price at very nearly the cost of publishing the paper, it argues but little for their liberality and appre ciation. But there are some extenuating circumstances in the case; and to these we give all due consid eration. In the first place, the temperance peo ple, like everybody else, have had no money this year. It has been a struggle for very life. The “meat and bread” question has proved an all-absorbing one, and temperance folks have had nothing to spare for papers. In the second place, they have so often been humbugged and so often lost their money in trying to support temperance papers, that, like burnt children who dread the fire, they are naturally cautious and slow in making similar investments. These are weighty considerations, and may be plead with great force in the premises, and we are willing to allow them all the weight to which they are entitled. We are willing to put the most liberal and reasonable construction upon the whole matter, for we have been actuated by no mercenary considerations. No one can ever charge us with an attempt to make money out of the temperance people, but we did expect them to manifest at least a willingness to pay cost or do something in behalf of an official organ in return for the space allowed them. Our most worthy brethren and efficient officers, Hickman, Thrower, Robinson, Wynn, Searcy and Cofer, have manifested much interest in this important matter, and it has been to them also a source of much regret and discouragement at witnessing the indifference of the brethren. We invite the attention of all concerned to this statement of facts, and should the present rela tion exist between this journal and the Grand Lodge and temperance organizations of the State, it must be upon a different basis. HOUSEHOLD DEPARTMENT. BY MRS. A. P. HILL. Receipts. Delicious Summer Drink-.—Mash unripe grapes; add water to make the juice a pleasant acid; j sweeten well and freeze. Corn Soup.—To a small hock-bone of ham, or I slice of nice bacon, add a quart of water; as it boils, skim until clear; add a large tea-cup and a half of grated corn, one quart of sweet milk, a tea-spoonful of butter into which has been rubbed a heaped tea-spoonful of flour; salt and pepper to taste. Tomato Pillau.—Fry the fowl a light brown, with an onion cut up in small pieces. Peel a pint of tomatoes; shred fine; season with salt, pepper, and a little sugar. When the fowl and onion are of a light-brown color, take them up and put in a stew-pan; add the tomatoes, and cover well with hot water. Have in soak a pint of rice; pour off the water from this and add It to the chicken, stirring it in slowly. Green corn, grated, may be used; a table-spoonful of butter, salt and pepper; simmer gently until done; no gravy. What Shall We do with Our Boys! It is a wise provision of Providence that nearly every boy has some peculiar capability— some aptness for a paticular calling or pursuit; and if he is driven into channels contrary to his instincts and tastes, he is in antagonism with nature, and the odds are against him. One of the earliest and most anxious inquiries of par ents should be directed to the discovery of the leanings of their children, and fit them out in the best way for rising in the profession of their choice. Study to learn what they are capable of ! doing for themselves; aid them, encourage them to do well whatever work is suited to their na tures. Regard every calling as honorable the labor of w-hieh is honorably performed. We cannot alter the temperament or proclivities of our boys, and it is folly to attempt it. Nature is stronger than we are. We may for awhile hold our boys in a false position by the power of wealth, or other strong controlling influences, | but when these fail, they fall at once to their natural places in obedience to a law as irresisti- J ble as that which Newton discovered in the fall I of the apple.—Journal of Chemistry. Says Peter Bayne: “There are books which cultivate the intellect while they chill the heart; books which one might imagine were produced by a logical machine rather than a living man; books which seem all fuel and no fire.” For my part, I judge of the merits of a book or story by its influence upon my spiritual nature. If I lay it down with an earnest, heartfelt prayer to be a better woman, to walk more constantly in the light of God’s countenance,* to me it is a good production, though in style and minor matters it may be open to criticism. It has answered the purpose which should be the object and aim of all literary efforts. Does it never happen in real life that a woman richly endowed with Heaven’s best gifts, loves with all her heart and soul a man unequal or unworthy of her love, and to whose faults she is blind ? Mrs. Jameson asks if this be true in na ture, why not in Shakspeare and other creations ? Bertram was not Helen’s equal. And yet in many stories and works of fiction, this kind of representation or conception is condemned as an outrage upon nature. I am somewhat fond of illustrating my statements by facts or fancies. It would cost me to do tills from personal obser vation, without recourse to books. Trouble is like the ghost which tormented a worthy family for years. The good wife conclu ded to move to escape him. When the last load of goods was on the way, a neighbor passed and said: “So you are moving?” “Yes,” cried the ghost, lifting from among the beds and pillows his voice; “yes, we are all going.” All mala dies of the spirit have wings, and fly with us wherever we go. Is it true that every son and daughter of Adam carries a skeleton in his breast ? Men or women help make their own beauty or ugliness. Every human being carries his life in his face, and is good-looking or the reverse, as his life has been good or evil. On our features the fine chisel of thought is eternally at work. There is a slow-growing beauty which only comes to perfection in old age. Sweeter smiles are often seen upon the lip of seventy than sev enteen. Thackeray’s definition of a gentleman: “It is to have lofty aims, to lead a pure life, to keep your virgin honor, to have the esteem of your fellow-citizens and the love of your fireside, to bear good fortune meekly, to suffer evil with constancy, and through evil and good report, to maintain truth always.” Early Rising.—“The difference between ris ing every morning at six o’clock and at eight in the course of forty years amounts to 29,200 hours. Rising at six will be the same as if ten years were added, which should be used for the culti vation of our minds and hearts, and the dispatch of business.” Were we to ask a hundred men, who from small beginnings have attained a condition of respectability and influence, to what they impu ted their success in life, the general answer would be, “It was from being early compelled to think and depend on ourselves.” It is said that the custom of having orange blossoms for bridal wreaths was learned from the Saracens. From the circumstance of the orange tree bearing flowers and fruit at the same time, it was considered an emblem of prosperity. They who have much good in them may have something amiss. We should be most ready to mention that which is good. Success in everything is the fruit of much thought and patient study, which genius alone never accomplishes.