Cuthbert weekly appeal. (Cuthbert, Ga.) 18??-????, March 31, 1871, Image 1

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Cuthbert weekly appeal., March 31, 1871, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextVOL. V. the EUREKA .it&SBFi A iXJM-ttZyZIM AMMONIATED BONE V! , A ' j SupeH-piiospiiate OF XjIMEI Is for sale at All Points of Importance m GEORGIA. WE HAVE SOLD IT FIVE SUCCESSIVE YEARS, AND KNOW It is the very Article FOR PLANTERS TO OSS. Kterfq ,T ; UAVID DICKSON, Esq., Os Oxford, says It w superior to any COMMERCIAL FERTILIZER Ho has ever applied, and / . - ■- - a . RECOMMMDS IT TO EVERYBODY. WE SOLD OVER Two Thousand Tons IN GEORGIA LAST 3 r^3j&.3Et.. IT HAS BEEN TRIED r ** \ a And always PAID ►jflll THE PLANTER. ulir.t JjsK ) s*/">;»*,* t Send for a Pamphlet. An Agent shay bo found at almost every De pot, but information can always be had 6f ihlislsk SIMS & 06;, .•••■ Sav a*asiaii, (*a. Agent at Cuthbert, Ga., IS. 11. JONES. Agent at Fort Gaines, Ga., m JPlfUji %' - Sl TIIVE A &RIDAI. jansiO-Sm ®p <£ut|krt Afpff Terms Os Subscription: One Year. ...$3 00 j Six Months....s2 00 INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. No attention p’aid to oid'-rs for the pa per uii'ess accompanied by the Cush. Rates qC Ativertisliig : One fqnare, (ten lines or less*.) $1 (10 for the first and 75 cents for each subsequent inser lion. A liberal (’eC|<t?tion made to parties who advertise fry the year. Persons sending tni vertLsementsshouldmark the n urn bur of times they desire them inser ted, or they will be Continued until forbid and Charged accordingly. .transient advei tidenetits must be paid for at the tiine/ffinsertion. AnuoiuiChiK names of candidates for office, r> 00. Cash, in atf capes Obituary nUie.es over five lines, charged at •rejrnlar advertising ra f es. All commnuic.ttioi.s intend' and to promote the private ends or interests of Corporations, So cheti'-s, or individuals. Will be charged as ad vertisements. Job Work, such as Pamphlets, Circulars, Cards, Blanks, I land bills, etc., will be execu ted in good style and at reasonable rates. , All letters addressed to the iVoprietbr will be promptly attended to. CliuPeH Directory. METHODIST CHURCH—It. 13 Lester, Pastor. Preaching at, 11, A. M. & T 12, P. SI. Sab baih School, 3, P. if BAPTIST CHURCH—P. SI. Danibl, Pas tor Preachina at 11. A M. Sl 7 1-2, P. M. Sab bath school !> I 3, A M. PRESBYTjSuIaX CHURCH—J. S. Coz by, Pastor. Preitchiinr at 11. A. M. & 7 1-2, P. M. Sab bath School. 1) 12, A. M. Kiss Papa Good Night. Itosy clicks oq snowy pillows Gently, jj'-ntiy pressed Liltle hands all day so bu^y, Folded to their rest. All the mothers heart slips in me, At the peaceful sight, While the list Words I remember, •■Kiss papa good night.’-' ‘ • 'to • Tender white arm-; softly clinging, In a sweet embrace Curls and smiles and dimples rippling, O’t-r each baby face. All the little fenr? and sorrows Are forgotten quite ; And l wait with their fond message, ‘•Kiss papa good night.” Touch them lightly, very lightly, Oh, ye coming years ; Bring them all your smiles and gladness, Save them (lorn your tears ; Praying thus, I sit beside them, In the waning light. Waiting with their lender message, ‘•Kiss papa good night,” Commercial Drummers to be Dispensed YVitii. —Many New York merchants are thinking of dispensing with drummers or trav eling agents, of, whom not fewer than twenty five thousand, it is said, aro scut from that city alone, whose salaries, commissions, ami traveling expenses amount in the aggregate to between fifty and six ty million dollars a year. This sum is practically a tax upon the retail ers throughout the. country, each of whom pays annually from $175 to S2OO to maintain a system which is now declared to involve a needless expenditure of money. Several large houses that have discharge i their drummers are report, and to be doing as well its before the change was made, and to have incurred fewer losses. In his eagerness to earn his commission on sales, the drummer will force upon the retail er goikls that are riot actually want ed ; when it follows that the buyer often suffers, and the seller also be comes a loser. The liability to loss ou this account will of course be greatly diminished by' the abolition of the whole system, in place of •which many of our merchants have substituted more extensive adver tising with very favorable results.— Susannah Net vs. History Repeating Itself.— The fail of Paris in 1871 balances the fall ot Berlin in 1806. It is in a letter from the Lord Granville of July, 1802, he describes an inter view of Napoleon with the conquer ed King and Queen of Prussia, ter minating in these words ; “I feel that for the fiituKy then, there will be an implacable hatred between i Prussia and France x bull mean to treat you now so that you shall have no power to diurt me hereaf ter.” Is not this what -the Empe ror of Germany is doing to day ?. Yes, but may it not be the turn of France next? and in this view, how like a sarcasm rehds the 'following from Count Bismarck to M. Jules Favrcj in their recent conference : “ 1 am happy, sir to do homage to your personal character. In the ’midst of reverses that have fallen ; upon your country, you have al ways had patriotic,words to utter, and very natural hopes and illu sions to entertain. 1 now cherish but one wish, viz : that Germany and France, forgetting the past, may become reconciled forever, since upon the union of these two nations depend the tranquility and prosperity of Europe.” An elderly gentleman, return ing home on Sunday, began to ex tol the merits of the sermon to his son. The following short dialogue tells the story: ■‘l have heard, Walter,” said the old' gentleman, ‘‘one of the most delightful sermons ever delii'ered before a Christian society, it car ried me to the gates of Heaven.” “Well, 1 think,” replied Walter, “you’d better have dodged in, for you will never have such another chance.” Modesty in a woman is like color in her cheek —decidedly be coming, if not put on. CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, MARCH 31, 1871. Mrs. Dobbs’ Mistake. BY 8. M. lIAItTEAU. “I vow, if ever there’s a boy to be found when 1 want anything ddne. Billy,” called out Mrs. Dobbs, going to the door and sha ding her eyes with her hand 5 “Bil !y !” . “-What, mother,” answered a boy. Ho was sitting under a peach tree, whittling, trying to shape out an arrow. “Come here.” The tone was imperative and the boy hastened to his mother. “Here, take this basket down to Mrs. Carter’s; and do you go , quick and come right straight back. Do you hear ?” ' “Yes’m.” “Well, start then, and put away that stick. It you take that with you, you wont get. back to-day.” The boy laid down his stick, put his knife in his pockej and, taking the basket from liik mother’s Land, started slowly away. “Mpve faster than that,” she shouted, as she entered the house. “Don’t speak so cross, Mary,” said an .old lady who sat sewing carpet-rags and rocking the cradle with herfoot: “I can’t help it,” answered the woman. “I’ve got to speak just so or lie wont move a step, he’s so confounded lazy ” “If any one else should say he was lazy, you’d be apt to resent it,” said the old lady, in a quiet way. “Billy is smart enough when he’s a mind to be,” said his mother; vig orously stiriaii up the fire. “But he is so tantalizing sometimes. He always pokes along when he knows I’m in a hurry. Where’s Harry?” “Hove, mother,” said a bright, handsome boy, who stood by a ta ble mending his kite. “It's*a wonder you’re here when you’re wanted. Go get me some wood. Come, move,” she added, as the boy entangled his kite cord. He started instantly, moving live ly and dodging as lie passed his mother, for fear of a blow. He goon brought in the wood. “Now go down to the tatcr patch and dig a few titters for dinner,- lianding him a basket. “Boquiok.” “Mayn’t I pick tip my kite first?” said the boy. “Yes, pick it up and take it out of my way, or I’ll stick it in the stove,” said his mother. The boy gathered up the kite and started on his errand. “Dear me,” said the woman, “it Seems to me that everything goes contrary this morning; it’s eleven o’clock and my dinner scarce begun, and there’s that baby waking* up too.” “I’ll take care of him, Mary,” said the old lady “Don’t get so flurried, Mary, it dori’t pay ; be a little patient.” “It’s very easy for yon, Aunt Beckey, to talk about patience, but it’s a different thing Fora woman to practice it who has five children to do for and the work Resides. — Seemffto rue a woman that raises a family earns her way *to heaven without any other preparation,” and Mrs. Dobbs roHed out the pie-crust, slapping" therolliug-pin down with such force that the six months old baby raised up in his crib. “Jf we could enter into the sheep fold, by virtue of our own works, perhaps it would,”.said the old la dy, taking up the baby. “I tell you it takes -all the ro mance out of our lives to be always drudging,” said Mrs. Dobbs, as she flew to the stove with a pie in each hand. “There’s many a one has a harder lot than you do,” said the old lady. She was standing in the door-way with Mrs. Dobbs’ big, flit baby in her anus ; the clear Septenfber sky reflecting its serenity in her calm face. Surely one would say that she had passed over so far calmly ; but show me oue who has seen fifty years and ndt weathered rough gales. “There’s many 7 a harder lot,” she said, in a lower tone of voice. “There’s many a one has sickly children and a drunken fath er for ’em. That’s something yon know nothing about, Mary Dobbs.” Mrs. Dobbs was sifting more flour into her pan as her aunt said this. She turned around and looked Aunt Beckey straight in the face, and said “If I had a drunken husbaud, he’d rue it as much as I would.”— “I reckon he would, “said the old lady. “But what would you do?” “\\ hat would I do ? Aunt Beckey Reynolds,, do you ask me such a question ? I know what I would not do. I wouldn’t work my finger ends oft, then turn ’round and give him the money to spend for grog, as Lucindy Morse does !” ° “You don’t know what you’d do,” said Aunt Beckey, as she walked back and forth through the kitchen, with young Dobbs in her arms. “I don’t see any reason to sup pose that I shall have auy chance to prove what I would do.” “I shouldn’t wonder, Mary Dobbs,” said the old lady, in a ner vous manner; “if you would have some judgment sent on you for not counting your blessings as they come.” . “I should like to see them first,” answered Mrs_ Dobbs, snappishly. “If a houseful of young ones atul a scant purse are blessings I can count them faster than I want to.” “So you ought, so you ought,” repeated the old lady- “There’s worse evils thau a houseful of heal thy children and scanty pnrses.” “I don’t want to See them then,” said Mrs. Dobbs. “Didn’t I come back soon, moth er ?” It was Billy’s voice; sound ing so cheerily that it might have served to drive all the dissatisfac tion out of the woman’s heart, but she would not suffer it. “Yes, for once,” she answered. “Run quick and fetcli me some wood.” The boy’s countenance changed instantly, and he walked slowly off, muttering to himself the while, — “It’s no use trying to please mother. She never gives us any credit for it auy how. I did hurry down there and back again, think ing she’d say something kind about it. I wish now that I had gone with Phil Carter down to the lake, he wanted me to go ; but I thought I would hurry back, and all I get is a growl. I wish I was big; I wouldn’t stay around here long; I’d go out west.” Thus musing he entered the house just as Harry re-, turned with the potatoes for his mother. “Billy,” said Harry, “I wish you’d fix my kite for me.” Now Billy was usually a kind boy, but just now be felt hurt, so he an swered — “Fix your own kite.” lie glanced up and saw Aunt Beckey looking with sad eyes at him. He felt guilty, so turned and said, “Well bring it out doors, and I’ll fix it for you.” Beckey Reynolds was Mm Dobb’s maiden aunt. She had a little home of her own, in tiie neighboring vil lage, but spent the most of her time among her relatives, especially with Mrs. Dobbs. Bhe would come aud remain weeks at a time, and during her visit it was almost incredible how many jackets and trowsers were made and repaired, to say nothing of the carpet-rags and patch work which were sewed up. Mrs. Dobbs had but little time for sewing, for slie had a largo family to work for, with no help except What Grace, her oldest child and on ly daughter could render, out of school hours, ller husband, Rob ert Dobbs was, as Aunt Beckey of ten declared, “just the best man in the world.” Ho never was known to complain if the dinner was not ready when he canto in, but always had a pleasant word for the children and a “Can I help you, Mary?” for his wife, who, it must be confessed, very often answered in no amiable mood. But he was always making excuses for her—Mary had so mucii to do and so much to vex her that she could not always be pleasant, and then she was a neat housekeep er, a good careful wife and a thor ough worker. No man wore whiter shirts than his were, and no one’s children around there looked clean er than his, and lie could overlook many faults in view of her good qualities. Aunt Beckey was an observing old lad}', and had noticed; with pain, her niece’s scolding, fault-find ing disposition, and had frequently chided her for her unjust remarks to her husband and children. “Yon expect too much from them,” she would say. “If you would just praise them whenever they deserve it they would try to merit it more.” Drip, drip, drip fell the rain.— Mrs. Dobbs always was out of sorts rainy days, for if the Children were not at school they had to be in the house, and everybody knows that five children four of them boys, can .make almost any amount and kind of noise. And although Mrs Dobbs scolded and fumed she could not make grown up people out of these little folks. She was in the kitchen “doing up,” the dinner dishes, so did not know that Tommy, the lit tle three years old, had the chairs in a row, himself seated upon the table, holding a tow-string, which wasts istencd to the furtherest. chair, “playing athgc,” he suid. Billy and Harry were playing marbles, and had the carpet kicked up in sundry places, While baby was amusing himself by examining the contents of the work-drawer, which Tommy had left open in bis search for a string. The mother tired and cros3, came in ; her face turned red and her eyes flashed, as she saw the topsy-turvy room. “Such a looking place !” she ex claimed. “Get up and fix that car pet,” administering a cuff on Billy’s cars and aiming one at Harry. “I declare you’ll set me crazy 7 ye-t! Tommy Dobbs, bow many chairs do you want ? Put every one away and get off that table.” Tommy scrambled down, and Billy and Harry took themselves out of the room. “I declare, I wish there never had been a boy born,” she said as she vigorously' commenced putting things in their places. “I’ll be so glad when you’re all grown up and gone from uiider my feet.” “Hush, hush, Mary; don’t say that,” said Aunt Beckey, coming down the stairs, “you’d be sorry some day that they’re grown up. They are less trouble now than they'll ever be.” “I eanltseehow that is,” said Mrs. Dobbs. “They certainly are more trouble now than tlrey can be then.” “Now they are hand trouble; then they may be heart trouble,” said the old lady, sadly. “You’re always taking their part, aunt Beckey,” said her neice, “You and Robert never can see any faults about them. If you both had the bringing up of them you’d ruin them.” “llow so, Mary ?” “You’d humor them to death.” “I don’t think any body can ac- cuse either Robert or me of humor ing the children,” said Aunt Beckey. “I should like to know what you call it then ?” “I think Robert loves to pet bis Children and so do I.” “There. I knew you must ad mit it,” said her neice, triumphant ly- “No; Ido not admit it, Mary,” said the old lady. “Petting them and humoring fhem are two differ ent things, two different things.— Humoring them is letting them have theirown way in matters where they are not capable of discerning right from wrong. Petting them is tondhng them—coddiing them; and that hurts no child.” “Hurry,” said Billy, as they stood on the steps, after their mother had sent them out of her way, “Harry, let’s go down to Ben Johnson’s and play on the tavern steps” 5 “Well, let’s,!’ said Harry, eager ly. “Old Ben likes to have us boys down there. They say he throws pennies sometimes, and the boy that catches ’em, can have ’em.” “Providing he spends them in Ins grog shop for candies or any thing.” said Bill} 7 . “Mother’s aw ful cross, aint she?” he continued, as they jumped over the back fence. “Yes,” said Harry. “I don’t be lieve sbe likes us like Phil Carter’s mother does him. She lets him play in the house as much as he wants to, and what do you think, Billy ? She says she’d rather Phil would have a house full of boy T s there than that he should run down street and play !” “Mother was awful good, though, when you were sick last winter,” said Billy. “She used to take you ou her lap and kiss you like a baby, and one day, I remember, she cried all day long, because the doctor said he was afraid" you were worse.” “That’s so,” said Harry, some what puzzled. By this time they had reached the tavern. As it was a rainy day the place was well patronized.— Gangs of men and boys loafed around the door and upon the piaz za. The Dobbs boys w 7 crc shy about going in, asit was the first time they had ever visited the place, but final ly seeing some of their companions there, they took courage aud went up the steps. They enjoyed the games of pitch penny and the coarse jokes of the men with pleased surprise. After a few hours they returned home well pleased with their afternoon’s entertainment, and made up their minds to go there again. They were not at all afraid that their mother would find out where they had been; for she never asked them any questions concerning their whereabouts, as long as tiiey were not troubling her with their noise; though to do her justice, she would have been sadly troubled had she known where her boys had spent the afternoon. Nothing grows faster than chil dren 1 This is hard to realize, where one has Uie care of so many as com posed the Dobbs family At least Mrs. Dobbs thought so, and, al though, as years passed on and no more were added to her flock, she saw no cessation from toil. The children were almost grown, still she found just as much cause for fretting as ever. The children, es ; peoially Harry, were fond of com pany ; but their mother would nev er allow them to invite their churns to the house to spend the evening. “It is all nonsense;” she said.— “I have enough boys of my own to clean up after. You shaut bring a whole pack here to muss up things.” “But I will clean up,” timidly said Grace, pleading for the boys. “I tell you I won’t have it; that’s enough,” aud Grace knew 7 it was of no use to coax. “I am afraid that Harry is going in bad company, mother,” said Mr. Dobbs, one evening, when they were alone. “What makes yon think so?” said Mrs. Dobbs, looking up quick ly front hc-r‘sewing. “I have reason to think that he loafs around the Ptverns nights.” “Well, its your place to go there and bring him home. I don’t see what gets into the boys. Billy is as grnru as a bear, too. Seems like they’d rather be any place than Lome.” At that moment Ilarry entered. “Where have you been ?” inquir ed his mother in a sharp lone. Harry made no answer, merely mumbling out something entirely incoherent. “I w 7 ant this stopped,” saul his mother. . “The next time you come home after bedtime, you can stay out all uight.” Harry walked on up stairs, nev er replying to his mother. “No, no, mother,” said Mr. Dobbs, “don’t do that.” “Yes I trill,” she answered, de cidedly. “That’ll teach him to come home in season.” “Maybe not,” said he. “It might drive him away, entirely.” “I declare, Robert Dobbs, if you had your way, not one of the chil dren would ever be punished,” said she, vigorously shaking out her sew'ing, and folding it up, and pre paring to retire for the night. “I believe in punishing them, but not perhaps in the way you mean. Harry is too large to be whipped, of course, aud a punishment that brings with it anger and resentment, will never generate good effects.” Mrs. Dobbs did not reply, and her husband talked on more to himself than as if any person were listening. “If the doOrs of his father's house are closed against him, where will he go ?” That must not be ; no, no ; but how shall I draw him away from these evil influences ? Ilarry is a good-natured, noble hearted boy, but he has fallen among thieves, who will strip him of every comely garment, unless be is brought to see his danger. In Thee will I trust. Father of Light, lend me wisdom. Surely no prayer uttered in such humility and faith, ever went unanswered ! “A fine looking muss here is,” ex claimed Mrs. Dobbs, as she entered the kitchen, one day after Billy had made the fire. “A fine looking muss indeed. Shavings and ashes from one end to the other.” “I was j ust going to brush it up, mother, don’t get mad about it;” said Billy. “Just a going to ! why didn’t you do it, then. It’s a pity yon can’t make a fire without littering up ev everything this way.” “The wind blew in at the window, and it scattered it,” said Billy surlily. “You can always find some excuse for your carelessness,” said his mother, in no gentle tone, as she left the kitchen. Billy sat down on the edge of the wood box, with lus elbows on his knees, arid his hedd in his hands, gazing thoughtfully into the fire.— Grace coming in shortly, found him thus, and going up to him, laid her hand on his shoulder and said: “What’s the matter, Billy?” “I’m sick and tired of home, and everybody besides.” “Oh, Billy, don’t say so.” “It’s the truth, sis. Mother is all the time finding fault. I’ve been trying all my life to please her, and I can- not do it, and I’ve about made up my mind to clear out.” “Oh, don’t, Billy, for my sake and father’s don’t go away !’’ said Grace.. “That’s all that has kept me till now,” he answered, “and since Harry lias become such a loafer, I feel as though I cannot stand it any longer. Do you know, Grace,” he continued, looking up for the first time since she entered, “Do you know that Harry drinks ?” “Oh! Billy!” said Grace, covet ing her face with her hahds. “It’s so,” he continued. “He has never been real drunk that I know of, but that will soon follow, I’m afraid.” “I think that is one reason why mother is so cross,” said Grace. “I don’t know. 1 cannot see much difference. She alwavs would scold.” “She was not going to let Harry come in the other night w hen he staid out so late,” said Grace. “I really believe if it had not been for father he would have been obliged to sleep out of doors.’ 5 “Poof father!” said Billy.— “Grace, its a hard thing to sav, but I think mother is a good deal to blame for Harry’s misconduct.” “llow so, Billy ?” “Why; you see, she would never allow 11s auy fun at home, nor any company. Boys like these things, and will go where they can find them ; and Harry is very fond of frolic and company.” Grace said nothing. “I don’t see how you stand it, sis,” he said after a pause. “I do get tired of being scolded and found fault with,” she .answer ed. “But then \ 7 ou know its moth er.” Grace would have said more, but She heard her mother’s voice calling to her, so tenderly kissiiig her brother, she left him. Ah ! how little she thought that would he the last hiss she would give him for many a' long day ! “llow sis ever grew up so good is a mystery to me,” he mused when she had gone. “But she is just like father, takes everything easy. I Wish I could.” That night Ilarry did not go down town. A violent Cold had; prevented. So he and Billy spent the evening together in their room “What arri yod going to do?” inquired Harry, as he saw his brother proceed to pack a small va lise, “I’ve made up my mind that I can do Letter some other place, so I’m going to try it,” answered Bil ly. “But where will yon go?” “I hardly know yet. Out west somewhere.” “Does mother kndw it ?” “No, not yet. I guess she’ll not care nmcli. I appear to be so much in her way.” “Well, perhapsit is the best thing for you. But where will you get the money-?” inquired Harry. “I have a little saved up,” said Billy, “enough to get away from here with.” Harry said nothing, and the boy's fell to musing. At length Billy said : “Harry, I wish you would prom ise me to do better. It nearly kills father and Grace the way you go on,” ’ “I am sorry,” said he penitently. But its just this way. Mother Won’t allow us any 7 company 7 here, makes everybody go to bed like lit tle children. I go down street to .pass away time, the boys meet me —jyou know the rest. been so ashamed sometimes, that I think I will go off somewhere where I will never see anybody again.”— And the boy —-for he was scarcely more— looked the picture of humili ty and despair. “I wish y 7 ou were going with me,” said Billy. “I wish so too,” said Harry, but that is impossible, for I have no money.” * If I get along well,” said Billy, “and see a good chance for you, I’ll send for you. But I must be off', for the train passes at daylight, and it is nearly four miles to the station. Good bye, Harry: Tell father and Grace, and all the rest, that 1 will write .to them soon, and that I expect some day to come back 10 see you all.” “Grace,” said her mother the next morning, “Go up stairs and call the boys, the great lavy tilings I Tell them if they don’t come right away, they won’t get any break fast.” “Harry is up, mother ; I saw him come through the yard, answer ed Grace. “Vv hat oould have started him out so early, I wonder ?.” mused his mother, as Grace went to call Billy. She soon returned with the news “that Billy was up too; and, moth er, .the bed looks as though one per son slept in it.” a : ' ‘‘Where’s Billy ?’ 5 inquired Mr. Dobbs’, as the family were seated at the breakfast table. “I went to call him, but he was not there,” said Grace, a sudden thought darting through her mind. L o you know where lie is, Har ry ?” “I know pretty nearly. Jiffs gone away. He told me to tell yon that he was going away, but would write and let you know soon.” “I reckon lie’ll be glad to come back again, 5 ’ said Mrs. Dobbs, ner vously catching up the coffee-pot, and pouring out the Coffee. Not a word was spoken, nor a mouthful swallowed, except by 7 the little ones. The food seemed to choke them all, and after a few mo ments, Mr. Dobbs rose from the ta ble, followed by Grace arid Ilarry. Mrs. Dobbs tried to - appear calm, but the pallor of her face, and the nervous twitching of the mouth and hands, told that sbe was deeply moved. “Tell me all about it, Harry,” said Grace, as they met in the hall. Harry told her the conversation of the preceding night and, added : “He’ll come home some day a rich mnn, and I am going too, Grace, just as soon as I can get away:” It -was not many months' after tliis that Harry’s prophecy was ful filled. Billy' wrote glowing accounts of the great West where he had located, and Harry 7 followed him. “I hope they’ll both find out their mistake,” said Mrs. Dobbs, as the family sat together the evening af ter 11 airy was gone. “They’li get enough of it. But them yi ungster’s always think they know so much more than any one else.” Five years have passed away, and we will look once more Upon the Dobbs family. Aunt Beckey is still at their fire side a permanent member of the family now; and although time has dealt gently with her, she is no lon ger able to assist about the house work ; but many 7 are the odds of things that are transferred into handsome rugs, carpets, and bed quilts, by her skill and industry. Mr. Dobbs looks prematurely old, but is still the same cheerful, be nevolent man he always was. Mrs. Dobbs has changed in .‘ppearnnee very little. The firm set mouth is a little relaxed, and the hair, once so shiny and black, is a little sil vered, but she is the same energet ic, thorough going woman, and neat house-keeper, though I think she allows Tommy and Jonny more privileges than were granted to the older boys at their age; for slie never opens her mouth while said boys are cutting up papers for kites, and tearing muslin into shreds for a tail. Perhaps through all these years she has learned wisdom. — Learned it as most of us do—by that stern teacher—Experience. Grace is standing near her moth : cr, reading aloud a letter. When she has finished she folds it up aud says: “Now, mother, I wrint to ask you for soniething I never asked for before, and you must promise to let me have it* Will y 7 t>u ?” “That depends upon what it is,” says her mother, pleasantly. “No ; it does not. It must not be conditional. Say yes, mother.” “Well, yes. Now what is it ?” “I knew you would, you good, kind mother,” and she clasps her about the. neck, and whispers some thing in her ear. “What’s going on ?” inquires aunt Beckey, who has grown so deaf that all this is a pantomime to her. , “Why 7 , auntie,” says Grace, right in her cur, “Billy and Harry are coming home in two weeks, and we are going to bate a grand par ty. All the young people in the village will be invited, and some old ones too!” “I want to know! Well, tilings have changed!” say r s the old lady, suddenly discovering moisture on her glasses. — Fast Knitting. —lt i3 stated that a boy, on one of. the machines of the Coluuibns Hosiery Manufac tory 7 , can knit thirty-five dozen pair of stockings per day. At present the company has three of these ma chines. They are decided improve ments, in speed, on the former ma chines—an elderly woman with knitting needles.— Columbus Sun. Careful.— A bridge at Denver, Col., sports this notice: “No ve hicle drawn by more than one horse is allowed to cross this bridge in opposite directions at the same time.” NO. 14 Form is good, but not formal ity. Courtship is bliss, but matri mony is blister. — ; The less a man thinks .or knows about bis virtues the better we like him.— J£merson. A Judge in Indiana has bberi named “Old Necessity” because necessity knows no law. Many a man justly considers his wife poetical when she is a rersri to him: ‘-Going out with the tide”— accompanying the bridal party out of church. The London Gazette is tllri oldest paper printed in English iff the world. A New Zealand chief main tained that he had a good title tri his land, because be had eaten it& former owner. * - Many live upon the promiwe they make. Tiiey never expect to keep their word, but to be kept by it. What is the most profitable of all manufactures ? The shoe, for every pair is soled before it is fin ished. When a dog gets his head iii a fence, it is unsafe to extricate him, unless yon have the pleasure of his acquaintance. Many a man dreads throwihg away his life at once who shrinks not from throwing it away by pencemeals.— lloine. - Tie who has not forgiven an enemy 7, has nevor yet tasted one of the most sublime enjoyments of life.— Lavater. . f >-• • * The man who didn’t believo in advertising has gone into part nership with the Slie riff, and the latter is now doing tlrb advbttisihg. A roasted onion bound upon the pulse on the wrist will stop the most inveterate toothach in a few minutes. —An Irish magistrate, censuring some boys for loitering in the streets, said, “If everybody 7 were to stand in tlie Btreets, how could any 7 body get by ?” —An Irish schoolmaster recently informed his pupils that the feme nine gender should be applied to all ships and vessels afloat, except mail steamers and men-of-war. Mr. Reagan keeps a saloon ad jacent to the office of the Evangel* ist, and the signs on the buildings read, “Reagan, the Evangelist—hot whiskey r s a' specialty.” A young lady of Baton Rouge sent a poetical piece to a lobal pa per entitled “May SOlh.” She felt unpleasant next day to see it head ed “My 30th.” It was about her birthday. “Why, you’d better knock the door down ! What do ytid want?”—“Ooh, my darling! don’t let me wakte any of your family I’m just using yonr knocker to wake the people next door. I’m locked out, d’ye see; and they’ve niver a knocker.” A Key to a Person’s Name.— 13y the accompanying table of let ters, the name of a person, or any word, may be found out in the fol lowing manner: A B D II i* C C E I Q E F F J R G G G K S I J L L T K K M M U M N N N V o o o o w Q R T X X S 8 Y Z Y .UY V Y Z W W W Y Z Let the person whose name you wish to know, inform yon in which of the upright columns the first let ter of his name is contained. If it be found in but one column, it it the top letter; if it occurs rn more than one column, it is found by ad ding! the alphabetical number of the top letters of these columns, and the sum will be the number of the letter sought. By taking one letter at a time in this way 7 , the whole name can be ascertained! For ex ample, take the wofd Jane. J Is fonud in the two columns com mencing with B and 11, which are the second and eighth letters down the alphabet ; the sum is ten, and the tenth letter down the alphabet is J, the letter so tight. The next letter, A, appears in but oneeolumn, where it stands at the top. N, is seen in the columns headed with B, D, and H 3 these are the second, fourth, and eighth letters of the al phabet, which added, give the four teenth, or N, and so on. The use of this table will excite no little curiosity among those unacquainted with the foregoing explanations,— Schoolday Visitor. True aS Par as Known. —A very eminent American painter, dead now these many years, once observed in the presence of a party of gentlemen, who were dsoussing the subject of the immortality of the soul: “Ah, my friends, Heaven is ODly man’s vanity.” Recently, several spiritual medi ums have been “interviewing” the illustrious departed, and to one of them be thus significantly says : “Please inform all inquiring friends that my belief concerning Heaven remains unchanged, but there is no mistake about Helh”