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JOHN H. SEALS, - Editor and Proprietor. MRS. MART E. BRYAN (•) Anociate Editor. A. 1.. HAMILTON, D. D., - Associate Editor And Manager of Agencies. ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, DEC. 25, 18757 The money must accompany all orders for this paper, and it will be discontinued at the expiration of the time, unless renewed. NEW YORK AGENCY. Young Sl Layton, at 134 Pearl street, New York city, are in charge of the New York branch of this paper. They are active, reliable and deserving gentlemen, and will attend to any and all business matters in that city connected with this office. >0 PAPER NEXT WEEK. To give ourselves and employees a few days of relaxation during the Christmas holidays, we shall issue no paper next week. Our next issue will bear date January 8, 1876. NEW STORIES. 7^' “Brazos Bob" is at last in hand, and will begin in our next issue. fits' “ The Mute Banker, or The House of Se crets,” will soon be commenced. /?r-©~“Luti-Gul, ” a beautiful and thrilling East ern story, will soon begin. fgS~ A number of other brilliant stories are in hand, and will soon be commenced. Christmas, Merry Christinas I—To-day’s sun ushers in the universal jubilee of Christendom. Christmas, the pearl clasp of the year’s bright rosary of days—the beautiful festival, sacred to social reunions and domestic delights; the day that loosens the miser’s purse-strings and stirs up the spirit of hospitality in the heart of the most selfish churl; the day full of sacred memories and grand associations, that chasten even our mirth and soften our hearts with feelings of kindness and fellowship with all humanity. Christmas—old time-honored Christmas—will have his welcome in spite of hard times. Prep arations have been made for his advent in almost every home of this broad land—among high and low, in cottage as well as hall. Innumera ble turkeys have gone the way of the kings of France — “guillotined for the public good.” Frosted cakes, and crisp pies, and quivering jellies adorn the clean shelves of the pantries, watched over by careful housewives to prevent the depredations of the eager little intruders who stand on tip-toe, with watering mouths, to peer at the “Christmas goodies.” And fair fin gers fill the vases with mistletoe and ivy, and weave “ The holly round the Christmas hearth.” For days, have the streets of our stirring cap ital been busy and brilliant with the stream of humanity pouring along them — shopping for Christmas; rich people in their carriages, muf fled in furs and velvets, with servants and obsequious clerks to stow their packages, while they sat tucked under gorgeous afghans; middle class people, brisk pedestrians, with cheerful faces and shrewd glances, looking about for bargains; country people, with eyes round with wonder, and cheeks rosy as winter apples, and the independent air that comes of conscious honesty and integrity of purpose. The poor, in scanty shawls and rusty coats, are not seen in the stream of gay buyers, but you will find them at the dingy counters of the small shops on the back streets, cheapening some little extra for the great occasion—a joint of meat, a few links of sausage, a pound of coffee, or a chicken for the Christmas dinner, or some apples and candy for the little ones’ stockings. Sad must be the feelings of those for whom grim poverty shuts out even a stray gleam of Christmas cheer; who have no money to buy even the extra piece of meat, or loaf of bread, or cup of coffee that would be so refreshing to the craving palates of the wife and little ones; the poor who walk the brilliant streets and see the glittering shop windows, the tempting display of fruits and meats and dainties, and watch the smiling shoppers hurrying homeward with arms full of Christmas presents, while their own dear ones hover around scanty fires, and ** Darkly tails their Christmas eve.” Ah! upon Christmas day, let us remember that the great master, whose advent this festival commemorates, has told us it is more blessed to give than to receive. What little gifts make the hearts of children glad, what small kindnesses raise the crushed spirits of the poor, wipe out the bitterness of neglect, and give fresh hope and energy to the forms that stagger under the burden of uncheered poverty. In our principal Southern cities this winter, many thousands of dollars have been appropri ated to getting up grand celebrations for the hol- days—costly pageants, processions and banquets. An exchange states that thirty thousand dollars have been sent from New Orleans to Paris to purchase expensive character costumes and ap purtenances for the holiday revelers. All this might be well at any other time, as affording re fined and cultivating amusement; but now,with the grasp of hard times and cold winter upon us, with so many thrown out of work and need ed wages, would it not have been better to ap propriate some of these thousands to alleviating the distresses and adding to the oomforts of the poor? Thirty thousand dollars! Think what a grand, free Christmas tree for the poor that would have hung with gifts, and to what a number of hearts it would have brought a “merry Christmas!” * Teachers’ Department.—The attention of all teachers is called to this department. The Secret of Happiness.—On the threshold of New Year, let me tell you a secret—a little golden rule, that will make it a happy year if observed: Be kind, polite, and loving at home. Life has other phases beside the domestic one, yet true happiness has its root at home. Home j is the centre, though it send abroad branches and blossoms, and far-reaching fragrance into 1 the outer world. Rooted in the love and kind ness of those who sit around the sacred hearth stone, happiness may be shaken by the storm of hard times; it may droop beneath the coldness of the world’s neglect and the blight of the j world’s injustice, but it can never die. Then plant your happiness at home. Culti vate it by deeds of courtesy and kindness, of forbearance and gentleness; prize the little at tentions and caresses of the home-circle; prize the small pleasures that bloom in the home at mosphere, and cease to fret over the little va pory trifles that your ill-temper magnifies into overshadowing clouds. Be forbearing; don’t pick out small faults and deficiencies, and let these blind yon to the great treasures of ten derness that you may lose eventually by per sistent slighting. And pray, carry a little bit of your courtesy and fine manners home with you, and astonish therewith your family-circle. Some of that polite and graceful urbanity for which you are distinguished abroad would work wonders at home if you would be prevailed upon to try it upon your care-worn wife and little ones; or upon your tired husband, good mater families. Ah, is it not true that '•We vex our own With look and tone We may never take back again. We have careful thought for the strauger, And BtnileB for the some-time guest; But for our own The bitter tone, Though we love our own the beat.” Let us, in the coming year, cherish “our own” more fondly, and cultivate an undergrowth of small pleasures, for few great ones are let on ‘ ‘ long leases. ” * A Poet’s Aspirations Nipped.—A young dry goods clerk who parts his hair in the middle and wears a diamond pin from the dollar store, has lately been the victim of an attack of la grand passion. Being of an aggravated type, it has broken out in poetry. As it is the holiday sea son, and all femininity is abroad playing at shopping, a dry goods clerk has to hop about as spryly as a grasshopper in June, and our would- be poet had little time to court the muses in regular style; accordingly, he was forced to vent his love-filled fancies in rhymes scribbled on wrapping-paper with a red pencil, in the inter vals, while his lady shoppers (after overhauling his whole assortment) were deciding whether they would buy a spool of thread now, or call some other time. These stray moments, our lover improved by inditing stanzas to his lady love’s charms on the paper that was destined to wrap up hege and calico, standing, meanwhile, goose-like, first on one tired leg and then upon the other. On Saturday afternoon last, while the estab lishment was crowded with customers, and ev erybody was so busy that our poet did not find sufficient time even to indite a single line to his most adored, an excited individual, with his cravat askew, his hair disheveled, and a desire for blood visible in each line of his countenance, rushed into the place and struck an attitude of defiance in the middle of the floor. In his up lifted hand he held a fragment of brown wrap ping-paper, and after cutting a pigeon wing or two, he rushed frantically towards our poetic acquaintance, and thrust the paper into his face, with the remark: “Hid you write that?” The young salesman glanced at the ominous paper, and with a faint and sickly smile, ac knowledged that it was his scribbling. “Well, sir, read it. I want your employers to know what sort of a man they have got in their store. Read it aloud, I say.” Everybody in the establishment had now congregated about the two men, and the young C HRISTMAS SONG. Glad Christmas tn the peasant, In his lonely Tillage home; May his hmnbie hearth be pleasant, Maj a blessing to it come! May the mistletoe and berry His cottage wall adorn, And hie lioneat heart be merry This merry Christmas morn! Glad Christmas unto all men; Whate’er at other hours May harass or befell them To-day may they have flowers! May wreaths of kind affection. And bloom of friendship born, And gifts of God’s selection. Bless all this Christmas morn. The Princess Borgliese and Lord Brougham. The eccentric sister of the great Napoleon was a coquette through policy as well as inclination. Blonde and Brunette. — The complexion of women, blonde and brunette, indicates a differ- j ence—more than cutaneous deep in the temper ament. The poets always build a fair-haired woman around deeds of risk and daring. Ten- nyson’s Godiva was like a creeping sunbeam. Brave and constant Imogen had eyes of heaven’s blue, and a skin through which the veins showed as the azured harebell. Browning's dreamer, ( Sordelo, drew his manhood from the golden- | haired Palma. Blondes had greater versatility. They could drop their bolt from a clear sky. ! They were more fascinating and dangerous than ! the bronzed Cleopatras, however delicately chis eled. There were two kinds of blondes, that | might be called lunar and solar. The former, like Antony’s wife, Octavia, wilted for want of heat and by thinness of blood; but Mary Stuwat | and Lady Macbeth were blondes fired by sun- ■ light—the voice low and clear and even, but cov- J ering the whole gamut of a trumpet of silver, j with not one brassy note. Mary Stuwat’s char- [For The Sunny South.] THE VINE. BY FANNIE H. MABB. The tender vine, that cannot stand alone. Scorns not to clasp the nearest stick and stone, And of their roughness makes a prop and stay To help it in its upward, winding way. So, on the hard, rough task that nearest lies I must take hold if I would upward rise,— Must firmly grasp, as clinging vine the stone, The ills that God allows to help me on. After her separation from her husband, Don acter was not so simple as Lady Macbeth’s. Her emotions were pledged to many objects. She Camillo, she was through his generosity left mistress of his magnificent establishment at Rome. Napoleon was then an exile at St. Helena, where he often mentioned his sister with fond ness. He considered her the handsomest woman in Europe, and spoke with pride of the fact that artists loved to call her the modern Venus de Medici. “ When she was at Nyce,” he said, “ she actually established a line of baggage -wagons to and from Paris to bring her supplies of the latest fashions. Had I known it at the time, I should have scolded her soundly, but after all she is the kindest creature in the world.” In her palace at Rome, the deserted wife still swayed her sceptre over hearts. She was still marvelously beautiful, though her health was delicate and her constitution impaired. She was surrounded by admirers, the most ardent of whom was Lord Brougham. “He was admitted to the mysteries of her toilet, and she allowed him to sit on the floor before her and hold her feet in his hands. He was also permitted, as a great favor, to hand pins to her dressing-maids when they needed them in the arrangement of her person. “How can you take pleasure,” some one asked her, “in the society of men who have imprisoned your brother at St. Helena ?” “Can you not understand,” she replied, vehe mently, “that I enjoy the sight of these men, once so arrogant, now humbling themselves to the dust of my sandals ? Can you not see that the complaints of that British peer are sweet music to my soul ? He stands for hours to give pins to my waiting-maid, because they are to touch my person. He has the courage to con front the caprices of a woman, hut he does not dare to speak before his parliament in behalf of that woman’s brother, that he be more kindly treated in his accursed dungeon at St. Helena ! And this man hopes that I may love him ! And the others hope that I may love them. If I had neither heart nor soul, perhaps I might! Let them love on and suffer the penalty.” was less constant than Lady Macbeth, who had only one ambition: to raise her liuitband and share his elevation. Her only resource was to be a woman. Her emotions, when opportunity is tossed in her lap, are not of the full-blooded virago. Her soliloquy is not rant, but the ex Savannah, (la.—The following from the ed itor of the Nassau Guardian gives a stranger’s ideas of Savannah: While the visitor who goes to Savannah for the first time may not he impressed with the view from the river, a drive or a walk through its broad streets and squares, intersecting one an other at right angles, with its finely wooded park and a sight of its numerous buildings, some of them possessing considerable architectural merit, will most certainly leave a very favorable impression of the city and its suburbs. Some of the streets are particularly imposing, and ad mirably adapted to a Southern climate. They have grass promenades in the middle of them, pression of her fear. How dry her politeness | fringed with the water-oak, sycamore, magnolia, ' *' ' “ ’ ' ’ ’— and pride-of-India trees. A carriage-way is laid down on each side of the grass-plot, and amply paved foot-paths run the whole length of the streets, for the accommodation of the business pedestrians. Every other “block” is laid out in the form of a park, with large, shady trees and well-kept walks, and some of these squares are ornamented with monuments of which the Greene. Pulaski and Confederate will compare favorably with many in the Union. man, as bidden, read: “ Come in the evening or come in the morning; Come when you’re looked for, or come without warning, Kisses and welcome shall be there before yon, And the oftener you come here the more I’ll adore you.” “There, sir,” continued the excited intruder, ‘how dare you give such stuff to my wife? My wife whom I adore ? you wretch!’ Anti with that he reached for the hair of the poet. His in tention was interfered with, however, and as soon as the young gentleman had conquered his confusion, he went into an explanation, which in the end proved satisfactory. * Philopena.—Plenty of “philopenas” will he eaten during the coming festivities, and per haps our young friends may like to know the origin of the word and of the custom. The word is of German derivation, and was originally “velleibchen,” “well beloved,” but the inhabit ants of Alsace and Lorraine, where the custom originated, partly lost the use of their native language while under French dominion, and what remained to them was corrupted and changed. So it came, that velleibchen was altered into phillipo, or phillipina, which sounds like it. It was an old custom among thorn for young couples to engage themselves by eating the halves of double almonds, and then to salute each other as well beloved (phillipina) each time they met. * The Macon Library.—The Telegraph and Mes senger says: With Mr. Herbst as librarian, and the constitution so amended as to make the pay ments lighter, it is believed the membership will be more than doubled, and that the incalculable advantages of membership in the association be extended to hundreds who are now deprived of them. For the small sum of two dollars initia tion fee, and two dollars semi-annual dues, any white person can become a member with all the privileges, and who will say that they will not be repaid ? The association does not ask con tributions, hut offers membership for a stipula ted sum and will give ten times value received in return. The directors have determined upon an active campaign for the winter and spring for the pur pose of raising funds for the association. And she gave me her heart with the flower; Oh! never a blossom that blows Is sweet as the heart of my darling, That she gave to me with a rose. Darling, the blossom has faded, But your love no fading knows. The Innocent Robber’s Grave.—In Montgom ery churchyard, in Wales, one grave is conspic uous. It alone is hare and sterile—all around are green. No tree waves above it—no grass covers it—no flower, l>y its perfume, testifies to the tender ministry of loving hands. It is called the “Robber’s Grave,” and the simple folk of that country, rich in icgendafy lore, say that a man, unjustly condemned for highway robbery and murder, prayed Heaven, at his conviction, that no grass might grow, no flower bend above him, and that thus his innocence might be at tested. How Heaven heard his prayer, a local poetess has told in lines which suggest a strong point against capital punishment: “ Twice forty years have passed since then. The grave may yet be seen, All sterile, bare and desolate, amid surrounding green. Though she of whom he spake had brought forth many root and Btem— In vain! The earth which covered him refused to succor them. And though she watched them morn and eve, they with ered one by one, And ne’er a flower expanded there its beauties to the sun. She know that he was innocent, whate’er the world might say, And, for his sake, alone she trod life’s dull, unequal way, And men with saddened eyes pass by that barren spot of ground. Still stands the gray old church, and still are all the graves around; The roses blush, the fuschsias trail, and grasses Idly wave, But never leaf or blade hath grown above the robber’s grave.” The Secret of Social Success.—Madame Reca- mier was the most successful in winning and retaining homage, friendship and respect of any woman that the annals of society record. Even in old age, she commanded the enthusiastic admi ration and devotion of distinguished men. The secret of her success was said to he due more to the graces of her soul than to her physique, gince neither time nor blindness destroyed it. “Not mentally brilliant, her marvelous tact and pres ence, combined with the constancy of unswerv ing friendship, and infinite patience and amia bility, ensured her the respectful homage of the most learned and brilliant men and women of her day. Kind to all, she was yet exclusive in her affections, and was fond of saying, “there is always a certain taste in friendship to which the commonplace characters could not attain.” The same evergreen charm of manner, due to the graces of the spirit as well as of the body, made the celebrated actress, Mademoiselle Mars, bewitching and irresistible at three-score. A biographer says of her: At sixty she played like young girls of twenty— her figure having lost none of its suppleness and youthful grace. An assertion that we, who have not had the pleasure of verifying, need not doubt, after witnessing the appearance and per formances of Dejazet, during this last winter. At fifty-eight she was arranging a marriage for her grand-daughter, but the young bridegroom elect became so enamored of the grandmother, that he would not hear of it. Scribe read to her his play of the “Grandmother;” when he fin ished, she said, “Ah, yes, it is very, very good, but I have been trying to think who can play the grandmother.” “Ah, yes, that is the difficulty,” answered the author, who dared not, after that, venture to explain that he had written the role for her. * to Duncan. She is so set to the high key of murder that she is rigid, stiff and cold—not pro fuse in her welcome. In the impetuous, suc ceeding scenes, her thoughts run rapidly. Men study the ground and judge of the possibilities. Women are not heedless till their heart is in volved. Then they are the swift-footed couriers of the ideal, fretting at obstacles, impressed that what is worth doing at all is worth doing quickly.—Exchange. m Shattered Lives.—Many of the misfortunes of women’s lives owe their origin to vacant or dissatisfied minds. Few women attach sufficient importance to the care of the mental faculties. Their sphere of life being more limited than that of men, they have not so wide a choice of occu pation or amusement. This often causes women who are naturally capable of considerable mental exertion, to use their powers in an inordinate j and unnatural degree, until they become mascu- j line in manner, or eccentric. Often they fall j into the opposite extreme. Not being possessed j of sufficient force of character to take up any j really intellectual pursuit, and being easily in fluenced by any unusual excitement, they rest their hopes of happiness on such slight founda tions that when these fail them they have no 1 power to rally. The vacant mind broods over ! trifles for sheer want of occupation; inaction produces a feeling of fatigue which induces a desire for solitude; solitude soon gives rise to melancholy, and a general weariness of existence makes the sufferer only too glad to embrace any chance of relief. Hence arise ill-assorted mar riages, melancholia, religious mania and conven tual life. To prevent the mental faculties from sinking into lethargy, nothing is more effectual than change of occupation or scene. It should he the practice of every one to cultivate at least one form of mental occupation other than that which forms the chief object of life; for a wide range of knowledge is of inestimable value, and may prove to be not only a means of recreation and pleasure in profitable times, but a source of profit and comfort when accident or misfortune renders it impossible for the ordinary pursuit to he followed. BOOKS AND PERIODICALS. A most realistic piece of acting was lately wit nessed in New Orleans, where the heroine and the young man cast for her father both lisped in speech. At the recognition, after long estrange ment, he said: “Aith I live, it ith my own thilde. ” And she said, “Yeth; yeth, father, I am your own thilde.” The family infirmity at once discovered the relationship, though it was not so intended by the dramatist. Think Well, Girls, Before Marrying. -We have lately seen it stated that in one town, four girls were married at the same hour, about eigh teen months ago. Two of them have separated from their husbands, and the other two aie try ing for divorces. Such things ought to wake up the girls to a sense of their danger. Girls talk and laugh about marriage as though it was a ju bilee—a jolly, gladsome thing, a rose without a thorn. And so it is, if it be all right, if they go about it as rational beings, instead of merry making children. It is a serious thing to marry. It is a life business, and that of heart and happi ness. Therefore, never do it in haste; never run away to get married; never steal a marriage; never marry for wealth, or standing, or fine per son, or manners, hut only for character, for worth, for the qualities of mind and heart which make an honorable man. Take time; think long and well before you accept any proposal. Con sult your parents, then some judicious friend, then your own judgment. Learn all that it is possible for you to learn of your proposed hus band; when all doubts have been removed, and not till then, accept him.—Exchange. “ Worth makes the manno doubt, but on this earth, It all depends upon how much he’s worth.” Burns’ Monument.—This monument, de signed by Hamilton, of Edinburgh, does honor to the designer for taste and durability, and a more suitable spot could not have been selected. Near the cottage where he was horn, where quietly flows through]the “banks and braes” the pretty “Bonny Doon,” and within a few yards of the Auld Bridge where Tom O’Shanter met with his sad fate, and the old haunted Allo- way Church and yard, with the little antique bell which was used some three hundred years ago, now dangling between two sharp points of the gable-end of the building; these all have associations sacred to the Scotch, and to every stranger who has read the poems and life of Burns. When these are taken into consideration, the monument, beautiful as it is, holds but a second place in the visitor’s interest. The monument is more than sixty feet high, with a triangular base, supporting nine Corin thian columns, surmounted with a cupola, and terminates in a gilt tripod, and cost about two thousand pounds. Never too Old to Learn.—Socrates, at an ex tremely old age, learned to play on musical in struments. Cato, at eighty years of age, thought proper to learn the Greek language. Plutarch, when between seventy and eighty, commenced the study of Latin. Sir Henry Spelman neg lected the sciences in his youth, but commenced the study of them after he had turned fifty. After this time he became the most learned anti quarian and lawyer. Dr. Johnson applied him self to the Dutch language but a few years before his death. Franklin did not fully commence his philosophical pursuits till he had reached his fiftieth year. Dryden, in his sixty-eighth year, commenced the translation of the “Iliad,” and his most pleasing productions were written in his old age. I bend o’er these royal blossoms, A-swlng by the garden wall, And my heart is astir in my bosom, As if it beard you call. Where are you, oh, my darling! Sweetest June rose of all? Ob, my love! like a summer blossom, You died as these roses will; Died! but the heart you gave me I bold In my keeping still. I shall keep it forever and ever, Mine through all good and ill. A Question of Honor. By Chkistian Reid.— It is a relief, after the wear and tear of high tragedy, of which modern romances give us a surfeit, to read this strong and simple story. It excels in power and pathos that style of san guinary incident and illicit sentiment which a vitiated public taste has so long required. A severe review in a late Galaxy savors strongly of sectional prejudice. The critic complains that the authoress assumes a degree of culture, and a knowledge of the world, in the circle she lo cates at Stansbury, incompatible with the real incidents of society in our Southern towns, and with which, as a resident of such a locality, she cannot be familiar. The public will accept Miss Reid’s representation of a society of which she is a member, as perhaps more accurate and in telligent than that of her reviewer, whose op portunities of observation of said society are at least more limited. The standard of culture she assumes is that of the class from which her characters are chosen—families to whom an in telligent ancestry and competent fortunes have secured liberal educations for generations, with the advantages of travel. In most of our aver age towns, where the professions are well rep resented, and the facilities for communication with the world are secured by railroads, we have a society which can favorably compare with most cultivated wiles in our own country. To the reviewer’s charge, that Miss Reid repeats her self, we cannot consent. This hook is strikingly dissimilar from her other works. And though she has written much within a short interval, she has steadily improved. Madeleine is in finitely superior to Katharine, Valerie or Nora; and Basil, in his grand, unconscious hero ism, learned in common sense, and great in simple duty, towers above her other male char acters. We do not agree with the Galaxy critic, that Miss Reid is guilty of repetition; though we could pardon it. Such pure ideals of wom anhood as Madeleine Severn cannot come too often into our literary world. There has been a moral iconoclasm of all high ideals of female character by such writers as Ouida. We are glad to welcome into the field authors who ren der woman attractive through her moral and mental attainments, instead of the seductive grace of beauty and coquetry. “Barnes’ Brief Histoi-y of France”—one of a “Brief History Series” that is now issuing from presses of the enterprising publishing house of A. S. Barnes & Co.—certainly merits and will meet the same favorable reception as has the United States History. For these histories a uniform plan has been adopted, viz: Epochal divisions with geograph ical questions at the beginning and chronologi cal review at the close of each epoch. While due space is given to the great captains and states men of the several epochs, the domestic life of the people is exhibited and the history stands before the student as resultant from the combined impulses of patrician and commoner. Its fault is in that it assumes the use by the student of the entire series, but this fault is venial as com pared with the frequent repetitions that must else encumber the series. Numerous tables and a copious index are among the excellent features of the work. 12 mo., 330 pp., SI.50. From the same house we have before us Peck’s Manual of Algebra. This is a revision of the well-known Davies’ UniversityAlgebra,and needs only an introduction under its new name. “ Practical Ethics" is the title of another new publication of A. S. Barnes & Co. This is a woman’s work, designed for use as a text-book. The arrangement is catechetical, and the style is entirely relieved of that weight which so com monly encumbers Ethical treatises. “Pooler's Test Speller” is still another book from the same house, and is brought out in re sponse to the demands of the spelling mania of last winter. Price, 25 cts. And finally—“The National School Singer,” for day schools and juvenile classes, containing song-lessons, school-songs, etc. Price, 35 cts.; sent by mail, post paid. The Rural Texan.—This grand agricultural journal of the Southwest has the hearty endorse ment of the State Grange and of the press. It makes adaptation to Southern climate a specialty. Weekly, eight pages, forty columns, handsomely printed, and only $2 per annum. R. J. Smith & Sons, Publishers, Bryan, Texas. “Written in Blood, or The Midnight Pledge,” continued on third page. “That’s How.” After a great snow storm, a little fellow began to shovel a path through a large snow-hank before his grandmother’s door. He had nothing but a small shovel to work with. “How do you expect to get through that drift?” asked a man, passing along. “By keeping at it,” said the boy, cheerfully; “ that’s how!” That is the secret of mastering almost every difficulty under the sun. If a hard task is before you, stick to it. Do not keep thinking how large and hard it is, but go at it, and little by little it will grow smaller, until it is done. If a hard lesson is to be learned, do not spend a moment in fretting; do not lose a breath in saying, “I can’t,” or “I do not see how;” but go at it and keep at it—study. That is the only way to conquer it. If a fault is cured or a had lialht broken up, it cannot he done by merely being sorry, or only trying a little. You must keep fighting until it is got rid of. Fouk things are greivously empty—a head without brains, a wit without judgment, a heart without honesty, and a purse without money. INSTINCT PRINT