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great deal than the most downeastern of all the downeasters; while his thoughts and ideas creep along at a snail’s pace. All he seems to care for is to live from hand to month; to get drunk,pro vided he can do so without having to trudge too far for his liquor; to shoot for beef; to attend gander-pullingg; to vote at eleotions; to eat and sleep. In physical appearance the poor white is far from prepossessing. Lank, lean, angular and bony, with darning red, or flaxen, or sandy, or carrotv-colored hair, sallow oomplexion, awk ward manners, and a natural stupidity or dull ness of intellect that almost surpasses belief, they present in the main a very pitable sight to the truly benevolent, as well as a ludicrous one to those who are mirthfully disposed. If any- — . j the women are even more intolerable than Bukton Bros., of Opelika, Ala., are Agents for i the men—owing chiefly to their ("sgusting habit Thk Sunny South. j of snuff-dipping and pipe smoking. The usual ■ mode in practicing this vice is to procure a 1 straight wooden tooth-brush, chew one end of JOIL1 H. 8SALS, • Kditor and Proprietor. W. 8. »KAU>. • Proprietor and Cor. Kditor. MRS. OAKY K. BRYAN (•) Associate Kditor. ATLANTA, GEORGIA, MARCH 9, 1878. Geo. W. Norman Esq. is onr general traveling Agent in Kentucky and the North Western States. The StoNNT South is always discontin ued at the expiration of the time paid for. Science and the Soul- How do you stand in regard to the great scientific-theological questions of the day ? I the brush until it becomes soft and pliant, then dab the same while still wet with saliva into the snufl-bottle, and proceed to mop the gums and teeth, to sack and chew and spit to their heart’s oontent, Being usually addicted to this filthy vice, it is not at all Btrange that the female poor whites should so soon loose all trace of beauty, and at thirty become the oolor of yellow parch ment, if not thin and pale from constant at tacks of fever. Beside, they are qnite prolific, and every honse is filled with its half-dozen of dirty, squalling, white-headsd little brats. Even if this is true, it is certainly bad taste see yon take cognizance of them in your paper, , and worfte feeling to parade it in Northern jour . but without defining yonr own position. For j nals> and fhe writer> whom we do not know in myself, I confess I feel every day the old ground j eas t, might put his sprightly talents to bet- ernmbling under my feet, and sometimes (but j ter Use this is only in my darn hours) I lose hold of j Poor , It i8 not enough that she has the only two wings that lift ns humans above : bad ^ 8 j t a tt j the gate of the Northern the brutes, or the dead matter around ns the j Djy e g- for lo! these many years; but now the belief in God and in the soul s immortality, I . do gs’ must come out—ungrateful puppies of say to myself, “We die, this wonderful organ ization of ours disintegrates, rots, goes to form other combinations of matter—to nourish first the plant, then the animal that feeds upon the the plant, then, again, returns to the earth. This unconscious material go-aronndconstitutes all onr boasted “immortality.”—thttraet from •t private '(Her. Where do I stand friend ? Can one stand at all Amid the current of ever-moving Thought? Can one look round on what his eyes embrace And say this is the whole, when every hour The prospect changes, the horizon lifts, New vistas open, from still higher heights Or deeper depths, Science, that seems to gaze With earnest eyes of trnth. beckons to us And sends this thrilling whisper—lo we go To search for God through all his visible works, Upward, among the stars; down in the heart Of earth and matter, connting, in onr quest, Naught common or nnclean, slowly we work, Reverent yet resolute, using all the light That Reason gives or Nature yields to guide Our hard endeavor. Never fear the light For truth: give truth the broadest light; Let the Soul search for its God; it is its right,— The growing soul that is no more a babe To tolerate swaddling clothes, although afar, ho far, from the full growth it may attain. Thus Science speaks, as holding by a cine— Frail as a spider's web,—it gropes along Down the dim labyrinth of effect and oause— Trying to probe the mystery of being. How dare we say that this is work in vain, This search for troth, whose patient earnestness Has not a shadow of blasphemous aim, Or mookiug intent? I would not so dare Instead, I’d nther see by this new torch The shadow of God thrown broader on the soul His power and purpose greatened, and His work Shown one vast whole, consistent in each part, Evolved by laws as changeless as himself; The soul shown grander, more akin to God, Sinoe daring to feel out for him, to shape A knowledge of him from his handiwork. Only the false will vanish. When this light Is flung down the dim corridors of the past Upon the shrined traditions of onr faith Only those formed of error's mist shall melt Like the wax wings of Icarus; the true Shall stand more fair. What if the fire-brand Hell, That we have waved to scare the beast of Bin, Be proved a threat whose usefulness goes by As knowledge broadens, and sin's sequences Are seen so plainly here—the sure, long train Of inexorable revenges broken law Takes even here. What if Tradition’s view Of the Creation —rounded in six days— And Eden’s story should be proved a myth Or truth disguised in figures, needing now Broader interpretation as Thought grows! These are not the real anchors of onr faith. Creeds nourish truth, they are not truth itself; They are the fruit that hold the seed of truth, The fruit, when overripe, drops from the stalk, The seed it nourished, dies not, but strikes root, Breaks ground and bears a new and fairer fruit. God, Immortality—these two are truth; Not stamped upon the sonl, but part of it; We feel that this Soul that thrills within onr brain, That dares conceive of God and search for Him, Is part of Him, and deathless; shall ontlive Th e change that we call death—and still shall watch With widening sight the play of Life and change Go on upon the Earth—till the last scene, When Death’s black curtain slowly drops upon An aged, worn-out World; when the Waves fling Their foam-crowns on the silent strand and melt Away forever; when the hills shake off The withering garlands from their hoary brows And lift their bald and serried fronts above A soundless, lifeless plain. Aye, when the Earth Rolls a dead, blaokened orb through space, the soul Outliving it, shall watch its fate and read The problem of its being; Eons shall unfold The mysteries of the Universe, leaf by leaf, To the expanding sonl—the bud of Time, The glorious blossom of eternity. Mabt E. Betas. | her own raising—not to mercifully ‘lick her i sores,’but to lift the rags of her poverty and | disclose said sores for the amnsement of Dives : and his friends. * Don’t Grow Old. What; wonld yon have one fight against old age with bottles of hair dye, Bloom of Youth, and Folet’s Enamel ? Not so. Old age laughs at such flimsy barricades, but he finds it harder | to break down the breastworks of a cheerful, : make-the-best-of-it spirit, a sympathy with i youth and youthful pursuits. These are the , true youth-elixir—these keep the brow smooth ; and the lip red, as the secret, nnder-gronnd spring keeps ths flower above it blooming, that . wonld else be parched and withered. ! ‘ Few understand the art of growing old grace- ; fully,’ says Roehefoncault, the wise. It is true, j Some take old age as a bitter draught and make | a face at it, that hardens into the ugliest of wrinkles; others coquet with the enemy—mas- > querade with him in white mnslins and bare- necks, in paints, frizzes and wigs, ‘frisking be- i neath the burden of foar score.’ There is a happy mean between these extremes. There is j an old age that is eminently graceful. Cheerful, without friskness; dignified, without austerity; i softened and mellowed, not hardened by life's j trials—an old age that the years have dowered ! with sweet charity and patient wisdom; that has i learned to put self and selfish sorrows aside, ana to rejoice and sympathize wiKi the iove and' ambitions and aspirations of youth. A Model Husband. Poor Lazarus! The South as Showa up by Southern Correspondents to Northern Papers. A number of the family of Scribeleri.that have spouted up so plentifully in the South since the war, have undertaken “for a pecuniary consid eration”—to show np their country in the pages of certain Northern papers—not in respect to its resources, and future possibilities, but as to its poverty, ighorance, short-comings and naughtiness, present and past, real and invented. One of these, writing from Carolina, holds up to ridicule the “poor whites” of his section, es pecially the unlucky dwellers upon the heights, describing them as living in mud-daubed huts, dtterly and irredeemably worthless, lazy, filthy and disgusting—a perfect scare-crow to all de cent emigration. But here is an extraot, from the column and a half sketch in the Philadel phia Times, which will serve as a specimen: The chief characteristic, the crowning emblem of the poor white, however, is laziness. He is the laziest two-legged animal that walks erect on the face of the earth. Even his motions are and his speech a sickening drawl, worse a When the Patent Office was destroyed by fire, ; many valuable models were lost that can never be replaced, and one heartless wretch has been I rejoicing that the ‘model husband’ was among j the number. But, fortunately, some losses can j be remedied, and this poor fellow will find he j sung his song of triumph too soon. Why, any woman can tell what a husband ought to be (and many a one what he really is, which is quite a different thing); but as a considerable time has elapsed, and no one seems disposed to repair the great loss, and as I like to do all the good I can, I will submit my model to the pub lic. Although it may fall far below the lost model, yet I am confident it will be an improve ment on many of the specimens 1 often see. In the first place, my pattern husband must have patience, notwithstanding it is a popular article of faith, and generally accepted by wo mankind, that this virtue is entirely foreign to man’s natnre, and therefore he is not expected to possess it. Consequently he is allowed to ‘bang doom' and knock chairs over ad libitnm. Secondly, he must ooncede that his wife can be, and is, as economical as himself, and not dole out a pittance (like drawing eye-teeth) for household expenses, with the remark that he ‘hopes she will not be extravagant,’ but give cheerfully and kindly. Thirdly, it must be his firm belief that his wife can cook better than anybody, (his mother not excepted) for that is a very weak point with most of men, and particu lar attention is directed to ‘thirdly.’ Fourthly, he must not leave off politeness, as he does his overcoat, but greet the ‘home folks’ as pleasant ly as he does his friends and acquaintances ‘down town;’ not leave all the sunshine, bat bring home a few rays to brighten the tired and care-word wife’s face. Fifthly, he never ‘treats, or is treated,’ consequently the ‘weesma’ hours' never find the poor wife awaiting with a sad heart his uncertain footsteps. Sixthly, he must be industrious, that he may be good tempered; for lazy folks are always cross when they have to work, and always in the way, too. Seventh and last, he must appreciate his wife, that others may appreciate her, and that she may not lose her own respect, but will ever strive to cultivate mind and heart to make a happy home for him. For you know ‘women are so vain’ of their ef forts to please. If they are unnoticed they sim ply tire of trying, and fold their hands in the contentment of despair. Well, here is my model, not very complete, but I fear to require too much, lest, seeing they are so deficient, instead of keeping the pattern in view they make it the ‘skeleton in the closet. Betsy Tbotwood. Two Enemies to Good Government. Popular political degredation is ever associa ted with ignorance and dirt on the one hand, and with the fashionable boarding-school var nish and the cramming of aimless accomplish ments on the other. Liberty is wrested from the former class be cause they can be galled and know not how to defend themselves; from the latter, because they have not the manly stamina to resist encroach ment, or because feathers, gold lace and crowns are such stylish, pretty things. The ignorance of an impoverished multitude and the ignorance of merely fashionable training are twins—Gog and Magog—the enemies of the Republic! Pen Droppings. BY Xi. la. V. A Belle of the Black Hills—Heri We are glad to welcome Mrs. Gregory home TVaffic End. i 40 Atlanta after an absenc ® of 36veraI months * . j She has been in Philadelphia pursuing her art The prettiest woman that ever was in Deadwood j studies with characteristic earnestness. Her was Kitty Leroy—the famous keeper of the gambl- j recent pictures, in oils, water-colors, and the ing den called the Mint. Every man would call j lovely German crayon, evidence the adxni- Kitty a real beauty-eyes like stars. I hick, curly j rable progTeB8 9heha8 made in firmness of out- brown hair, red ltps, light trim figure, and the ! ,. . _ *„«„*_ OIt j daintiest little foot that ever danced a hornpipe. | * 1De and hdelity of coloring. Her Kitty had five husbands, seven revolvers, a dozen j energy met with deserved appreciation and won It has been earnestly said that the noblest vir tues which men practice are called into exercise by corresponding vices of others. If no one were improvident there would be little room for benev olence; if none were rash .and tyrannical there would be few opportunities of showing patience j bowie-knives, and always went armed to the teeth, I her friends among the best artiste in New York a ” H Wifely devotion is most sig-. W hich latter were like pearls set in coral. She i Philadelphia. Among others, the eelebra- was a terrific gambler, and wore in her ears im- i , , . . . ... ...... mense diamonds, which shone almost like her own I J** 1 painter > Church, paid her the kindest atten- glorious eyes, and seemed to sparkle only to show j tl0DH - their inferiority. Kitty was a torn-down coquette j Mrs. Gregory has been invited to become a from her orndle,*ftnd where that was rocked heaven ! member of a sooiety of artists in New York 1 only knows, unless her own story was true, that, a baby she drifted on the ocean beach tied to a fragment of the creek of a nameless ship, a Malay pirate, sunk in combat. The magnetism about her marvelous beauty was and forbearance, nally shown by women who have worthless hus bands, and some of the finest specimens of good husbands are to be found in those whs have been unfortunate in their selection. Mr. Buekle claims that only certain races, and these only under favoring circumstances are ca pable of civilization. We cannot prove this theo ry false; but if it be true, much time and labor is vainly spent by the civilized portion of the world. Fruitless will be the thousands spent in mission ary enterprises if they, to whom the Gospel is borne, can never attain a sufficient degree of men tal culture to apprehend its sublime teachings. Vainly may we expect the Hindoo, the South Sea Islander and the African to become laborers with the European in the great work of human pro gress. All these will etraF. lapse back when the external aid has been removed, or more probably, will like noxious animals, i slowly though surely disappear before the march of the white man’s civilization. The story o r Parrhasius watching the agony of a wretch dying under torture that he might de lineate his expression upon canvas, fills the mind with horror and disgust. How infinitely more painful is it to hear of a woman who subjected the moral nature of a gifted young man to ordeals in volving his ruin, that she might enhauce her lit erary reputation by a portrayal of the struggle. Such an act of cold-blooded selfishness and ambi tion seems to have been performed by the won derfully endowed and stupendously wicked George Sand, towards Alfred DeMusset. Nothing more painfully marvellous is to be fouud in all the range of literary history. The psalmist, as he looked out upon the siar- strewn sky, was tilled with wonder that the arch itect who planned and executed this vast frame work should eare for an item of Ilia creation so insignificant as man. How greatly would his wonder have been intensified could he have known what the glass and calculus have revealed and made almost assured certainties to the men of this day. The universe of which David spoke was but a mere speck compared with the systems of worlds which the modern astronomer recognize- as lying within the flaming walls of the Empyreans Faith, not knowledge, muBt grasp the conception of a Being who can direot things so vast, and at the same time care for the tiniest insect that floats in the air. Ingratitude, while the meanest of vices, is one which most deeply wounds. Nothing pains us so deeply as to be treated unkindly by one upon whom we have bestowed affection and kindness. The man who perished by the venom of the viper which he had warmed baek to life most have suf fered more mental anguish than if he had died by the sword of an avowed enemy. Nothing ia all the range of fietion is more touching than that picture of poor old Lear, when driven forth by his ungrateful daughters, boring his head to the rag ing storm, and pronouncing it less cruel than the offspring whom he had cherished with his love and endowed with his wealth. A Bos»np mio—4UI Ajb^vjet bao; suppose—has written c jStmpMet about “ the Ne gro as he is,” in which he informs the citizens of the Hub and all the world who may choose to read his production, that darkies after the unole Tom and George Harris pattern are not the prevailing fashion down South. lie is quite right, but too late. The error of which he would disabuse the Nort hern mind has done its Sid work. The negro has been mode a citizen—has in thousands of in stances been converted from valuable laborer in to a loafer and thief, from a Messing to the land into its bitterest curse, and fir us, there is small hope save in his emigration or extermination. Had this Bostonian thrown in this antidote when Mrs. Stowe was poisoning the fountain of publio opinion, it might have avaled. Now it is too late. composed of some of the very best talent in the country—an invitation highly gratifying, but out of her power to accept, since she intends pursuing her art labors, for a time, in this city, such as to drive her lovers crazy; mere men had ! where she has a charming home and many been killed about her than all the other women in i friends. She will furnish the Sunny South the Hills put together. She was of all humors- j with 80me highly interesting sketches of new soft and pleading, cold and imperious, gentle and I , „ . ? : , fierce by turns; the very queen of coquettes. She 1 worka ot " 4 she has 8een - and of ^‘“P 868 ^ could throw a bowie-knife straighter than any the 8tndl ° 8 of well-known artists. Her account pistol bullet except her own, and married her | °f her fi»t visit to Church, and how she found first, husband because he was the only man of all j the genial artist employed, is very entertaining. her lovers who had the nerve to let her shoot an apple off his head as she rode by him at full speed. On one occasion she disguised herself in male attire to fight a man who had declined the combat with a woman; he fell, and she then cried over him and married him in time to be his widow. Kitty Leroy was sometimes rich, sometimes poor; but always lavish as a prince when she had money. She dealt “vantoon” or “iaro,” and played all games at cards with a dexterity that amounted to genius. Her daring courage made her the envy and admiration of the boldest scouts, and danger seemed to inspire rather than daunt her. Kitty’s end was a tragic one. She quarreled with her favorite husband one day, and declared it was no use to try, she could’nt. iive with him, no how .’ It will appear next week. Brignoli’s Italian Opera. We are really delighted to know that this un rivaled company will return and give another entertainment in this eity, and no one who has the least appreciation of fine singing shonld fail to be present. We state without qualification that a better musical treat was never before pre sented to an Atlanta audienoe. The voice of Brignoli is a pure tenor, soft and sweet, and he manages it with fine effect But the only perfect voice we have ever heard is that of Signor G. Tagliapietra, the eminent baritone. In power, volume, scope, and register it is absolutely per- “Curse you, Kitty,” said her hot-tempered lord, and holds an auditor spell-bound. Mile, then die with me.’ ’ And shot her and then him-1 Elisa Galimberti,the distinguished prims donna, It is hardly necessary to say that his re- j has a pure and rich soprano, whioh is in perfect cultivation, and with her handsome figure and exceedingly graceful movements, she is a charm ing queen of the stage. Signor Susini has a grand bass. Let Atlanta show its appreciation of genuine self. mark was considered pur: gent. repartee by the elite of the HilLs Familiar Quotations. Edward Yonng—‘The man that blushes is not quite a brute.’ j artistes by giving this splendid troupe a rousing ‘ Prayer ardent opens heaven.’ : hou86 on next Tue8day night the 5th> Signor ‘A man of pleasure is a man ot pains.’ t „ . 8 ’ ^ ‘ Final ruin fiercely drives her plow shares I Bn S noh18 a polished and appreciative gentl<r o’er creation.’ j man, and we all appreciate his cleverness in ‘The course of nature is the art of God.’ ; consenting to return at the request of our peo- ‘ The love of praise, however concealed by art, j pi e . Reigns more or less, and glows in every heart. ’ ‘ Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, • . And think they grow immortal as they quote.’; ° Ame Can ( ousms. ‘ None think the great nnhappy, but the great. ’ i entire clt Y 18 811 ‘‘gog about Sothern, who * X fnnl of fVxrfu ia a IVvnl * A fool at forty, is a fool indeed ‘Moments make the year, and trifles life.’ ‘One to destroy, is murder by the law.’ * War’s glorious art, gives immortal fame. ’ ‘ And hold their farthing candle to the sun.’ ‘ And oftener changed their principles than shirt.’ ‘Time elaborately thrown away.’ ‘ In records that defy the tooth of time.’ ‘Great let me call him, for he oonquered me.’ i House to-night, March 2d, will be tested, no Wm. Wordsworth ‘Breathless with adora- 1 doubt, to its fullest capacity. Secure tion. | .. , . J I ticket. brings his side-splitting “American Cousins” to Atlanta for the first time. From all aocouats he mast be immense in this carieatare comedy. It is difficult to find a building that will hold the crowds that gather everywhere to hear him. In New York City, he performed 18 oonseentive weeks before packed houses; and onr Opera your jucfc-?a d inn outworn. ty heart is lying still. In the life of every man of &e sensibilities there is a period—most generally a short one—daring which a friendship like that of/onathan for David, is a possibility. It is when he youth has just passed into manhood, while n> base feeling of en vy and selfishness is allowed t interfere with the flow of the affections. Later, jealousies and the conflict of interest forbid anytiing like a generous love of man for man. Men beome more calculat ing as they grow older, and evn the homage offer ed to woman by one who has massed the glow of early manhood is apt to be inch mingled with thoughts of her money. Wedding of an Anstian Countess. A P=>g<»i* auce-'ed And all that mightj Soft is the music that would oharm forever. The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lovely. Frozen by distance. The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. They shonld take who had the power. And they should keep who can. A remnant of uneasy light That which once was great is passed away. Plain living and high thinking are no more. Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart. So didst thou travel on life’s oommon way. Every gift of noble origin, Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath. A few strong instincts, and a few plain rales. The common dust of survile opportunity— to gold.’ J Geo. Colman, Jr—‘Thank yon, sir, I owe you one. When taken, to be well shaken. ’ Jas. Hurdis—‘Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.’ David Everett—* You’d scarce expect one of my age, etc. Madame Rowland—* Oh, liberty! liberty ! how many crimes are committed in thy name. ’ Bertrand Bavere—‘The tree of liberty only grows when watered by the blood of tyrants.' Joseph Fouohe—‘ It is more than a crime, it is a political fault’ Talleyrand —‘It is worse than a crime, it is a blunder.’ The Rossini Association The Jarge audience, whioh greeted this popu lar association of our amateurs, on Monday eve ning last, were most agreeably surprised at their remarkable success in opera. The beau tiful and ever popular II Tromlor* was given us with all the effect that a professional troupe could have given it, and Miss Kennedy in the trying role of Leonora, and Maj. Courtney with his rich and deep baritone voice, really distin guished themselves. The same may be said of Miss Fisher, Mrs. Peel, and Mr. Goidtsnoven. No one, we think, was prepared for snob profi ciency in amateurs, and the general demand is for a repetition. Let ns have it. Don t fail to read the excellent sketch of Bishop Marvin on the opposite page. It is written in Dr, Scott’s best style, and he is one of the roost finished and classioal writers we have in the South. The marriage of the beautiil Countess Wilhel- mine, daughter of Prince Kinty von Weynic and Tettan to Franz Josef Prince jersperg, forms the subject of a letter to the Horn Journal. The part of the wedding most interring to ladies—the dress of the bride and her aendants, is thus par ticularized : ‘■Prince Auersperg owns rge estates in Bohe mia, so that much of the modn lace found in the trousseau ot his bride had beeordered by her from the Erzgebirge, where the oor people make the most delieate laces, and ib months they have worked this fairy-like fakz for their future Princess. I am sure thaGjly put a prayer and a blessing, for her bounty m ery mesh. The bridal dress of whi satin, was trimmed with this lace, woven amon ruchings of myrtle sprays and orange buds. Beath her veil, worn a la zuive, and fastened witk large diamond star, the bride wore her diamol coronet, combined with a delicate wreath of m.tle and orange. Her dress was made high, and aund her neck from a superb diamond collar hung riviere of diamonds. Her ear-rings were very rge and long; they flashed like sunbeams. The bridemaids were Picess Auesperg, two Countesses Kinsky, and Unless Thun. Their dresses were of light blue si and white lace. The groomsmen were Prinoe Asrsperg and Count Kinsky, brothers of the bri( and groom. Here, the groomsmen are called aut/ahrer, and their duty is to lead the bride (the altar, where the groom awaits her The train of the bride’s ress was carried by her brother, the youngest tint Kinsky, and the little fellow held her bouqmduring the ceremo ny. The bridemaids foliod the bride and were grouped near her.” We have been pleased to meet in onr sanotnm, the Hon. W. S. Williams, from Napanee, Canada, who is a great temperance man. He is en route for Florida. We are pleased to hear, fongh a friend, of the great prosperity ofollege Temple, at Newnan, Georgia. Presidt Kellogg is an ad mirable manager, a though master of the difficult art of robbing sti ’ of those features of drndgery whioh make ij> repulsive to the yonng mind. In impartiii practical, as well aa a finished eduoaiion, has few equals. A Stormy March Day. It was a half-drizzling, hall-stormy day last week—just such a day as puts nervous people in a bad humor with themselves aud everybody else. Job Dodge sat brooding over the fire immediately after breakfast. His wife addressed him as fol lows : “Job, can’t you mend that front door latch to day?” “No,” was the answer. “Well, can’t you mend the handle of the water- pail?” “No.” “Well, can't you put a new handle to the mop ?” -Ho.” “Well, can’t you put up some pegs for the clothes, in our chamber?” “No.” “Well, can’t you fix that north window, so that the rain and snow won’t drive in ?” “No! no ! no 1” answered her husband, sharply. He then took his hat, and was on the point of leaving the house, when his wife, knowing that he was going to “B’s Saloon,” where he would meet some of his tippling companions, asked him kindly to stop a moment. She then got her bonnet and shawl, and said to her husband: “You are going to the drinking saloon, with your leave, I will go with you.” The husband stared. “Yes,” said the wife, “I may as well go as you, if you go and waste the day, and tipple at the ealoon, why should I not do just the same?” Job felt the reproof. He shut the door; hung up his hat; got the hammer and nails; did all his wife had requested, and sat down by his fire at night, a better and happier man. Cultivate oheerfalness. Laugh and grow fat. If yon can’t grow fat with laughing, laugh any how. It won’t hurt yon. ’Tis a superior tonic. If yon have a sore throat, or a boil on yonr lips, or bad teeth, and can’t laugh, smile; smile with your eyes; gesticulate or gyrate in token of the joy that is in yon. Bat don’t look gram, what ever you do. Don’t snarl, nor grin sardonically, nor sneer sarcastically, nor packer your lips into an indifferent whistle, nor snap yonr finger at the world as if in defianoe of the fan that is a part of its life. Be sociable. Treat everybody —with kindness. Shake hands with yonr enemy, and let him know yon are not prejndiced. That’s the way to take the prose out of life, and make the world comfortable. If everybody only grin ned with jollity, and nobody snarled with envy, the earth would be a heaven yon would never eare about leaving for a better. Smart Boy. ‘ Well, sonny, whose pigs are thoee,?’ • • Old sow’s, sir!’ 4 Whose sow is it ?’ ‘Oldman’s, sir.’ 4 Well, then, who is your old man ?’ ‘ If you’ll mind the pigs, I’ll run home and ask the old woman.’ ‘Never mind, sonny, I want a smart boy what can yon do ?’ J ’ Oh! I can do more than considerable. I milk the geese, ride the turkeys to water, ham string the grasshoppers, light fires for flies to court by, cut the buttons off dad’s coat when he is at prayers, keep tally tor dad and ’mam when they scold at a mark—old woman is always ahead.’ 4 Got any brothers ?’ 4 Lots of ’em, all named Bill, exoept Bob, his name’s Sam—my name’s Larry, bat they call me Lazy Lawrenze, for shortness.’ * Well, you’re most too smart for me. ’ ‘Travel on, old stick in the mud, I shan’t hire yon for a boss to-day. ’ Propositions for 1878. Now ia the time to begin with the new stories. For a club of six at $2.50, we will send a copy free for one year. For $5, we will send two copies one year. For $3.50, we will send the Sunny South and Boys and Girls of the Sooth one year. Each subscriber now on the books can have a year added to his time for $2.50 by renewing now and sending one other subscriber at same price. For a club of four, at $2.50, we will send a copy of any of the Standard poets or any novel that may be desired. For a club of six, we will send a hand some photograph album. ForaolubrfsUton.we will send a Websters Unabridged Dictionary. •in” a s C . lub ,? f „ twei »ty, we will send $10 in gold. (All the names most be sent at the same time when premiums demanded.)