Newspaper Page Text
W. F. SMITH, Publisher.
VOLUME VIII.
YEARS AGO.
8b was Boated cpae boaldo me.
On a May day,
'T™ wu'iSSaAjr ioc 1 * .
jaaASliyli&A
This lock of hair, it I did steal
I was bnt a boy, you know.
Was Bbe pretty ? Did I lc#e her?
Heart of mine, ’twaa year* ago;
And that pang of bliss is over,
I was but a boy, you know.
“ Was she rich?”—now that la funny,
Heart of mine, ’twas long ago;
What cared I for lands or jnoney ?
1 was but a boy, you know.
" And you parted—how you missed her”—
Heart of mine, ’twaa years ago:
“And yon preened her hand and kissed her,”
I was but a boy, you know.
Do I love her yet7—o olden,
Precious past, thou heart of mine;
Hee, this lock of hair is golden.
And the head that wore it—thine.
THE LOVE LETTER.
“Well, whoever heard the like,” cried
Fanny Harper, as she entered the parlor
and threw herself on the sofa. “ Guess,
mamma, if you can, what has just hap
pened. ”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps
Sam and Tom have been quarreling.
Hear mo, what torments those children
are!”
“No; they aroboth at school. Guess
again, mamma.”
“Well, then, I dare say that odious
Mrs. Sharp has been hinting that I wear
false hair. False hair, indeed! then,
why—”
“ No such thing,” interrupted Fanny;
“ten times worse!”
“Ten times worse!” cried Mrs. Harper,
turning pale. “Oh Fanny, tell me.”
“Well,” said Fanny, sobbing, “Julia
Somers is engaged.”
“ Engaged? Well I wonder what peo
ple will come to next!”
“Yes, really engaged. If there was
a girl in whom I thought I could place
perfect confidence, it was Julia Somers.
Only a month ago she joined our auti
matrimonial society. Oil, mamma, how
can girls be so foolish! Poor Julia!”
“ Why, what can you moan, Fanny?”
asked a lady who happened to be present.
“Is it possible that Julia is about to
marry a man unworthy of her?" Who is
the dreadful creature to whom she is
engaged?”
“ His name is George something—
Thornton, I believe.”
“Is ho internporato?’’
“ Mercy, no! How could yon think of
such a thing? ITis morals are good
enough.”
“Perhaps he is an ignoramus, then,
or—”
“No, no, no; he is a vory line young
man, as rich as Croesus, very sensible,
and so handsome! Half the girls in town
are doing for him.”
44 1 ndeed! Then why is Julia so much
to l>e pitied?”
“Why, because she is to bo married,”
said Fanny, impatiently (she had turned
an old maid’s corner).
“I confess I cannot see fcho groat hard
ship, after all, suggested Mrs. Harper.
“But there’s the dinner bell.”
Fanny declared, however, that she had
no appetite for dinner, so to her own
room she went to write a long letter to
•Lilia, in which she pointed out the
trials of married life, and warned her
agaiust the fatal step. What did Mrs.
Somers do with this letter? She read it
to George, and George twisted it iuto
twenty lamp-lighters, and the twonty
lamp lighters were in requisition on a
certain evening of tho next week, when
Julia ceased to be Julia Somers.
Mouths passed away and Fanny, at
Julia's earnest desire, came to spend a
few days with the youthful bride. The
bright color and tho playful smile still
dwelt upon her cheek and lip as of yore,
and Fanny might have forgotten that
this was not the Julia Somers of her
early love had not the apparition of a
man’s hat and coat in the hall recalled
her to her senses.
“Well,” thought Fanny, “I'm deter
mined to have as little to do with her
husband as possible.' Not a word will
I speak except when he asks a question,
for lam determined to hate him with
all my heart.”
To hate George Thornton—the man
who adored her Julia, who was so hand
some, so sensible, so brimful of love and
kindness for every living tiling! Bash
resolve! In the space of one hour Fanny
had o}>ened out her heart to the influence
of his thousand-and-one good qualities,
and he understood her. The week
passed pleasantly, and Fanny went home
and wrote verses.
It was very odd. she thought, and my
reader, you must think as she did that
certain persons of the masculine gender
*ere constantly interfering with her
private reflections. If she walked she
feared meeting some among the num
ber; if 6he remained at home she was
sure they would be there to torment her;
u she read, the hero of the novelist or
historian would take the shape of the
Ah'. Thompsons, the Mr. Smiths and
me Mr. Jones of her acquaintance; if
s ue visited, what if Mr. So-and-so
•nould be there? Poor Fannv!
The years of the life of Fanuy Harper
many. Her younger brothers and
sisters wondered that she had never had
an offer, and Fanny herself wondered,
R nd rejoiced—at least she said so. One
morning Mrs. Harper and her five
daughters were seated together in the
b, ar^“r > when a violer* ring was heard at
lit1 it was not me for papa’s ro
rn * that was not papa's ring, they
en * all sure. Great, therefore, was their
irprise when Mr. Harper, puffing and
L oh m ?' ru |led into the room, bearing
rji Bh6 * daie “ erwith, ‘ reßt
HiMk tfjwtp
“A letter from a gentleman, as I know
by the flourish he has made on that great
M,” cried Kate, standing on tip-toe and
trving to read the address written on the
letter.
“A love letter, did you say?” cried
Matilda.
“Oh. its for me then,” said Fanny,
decidedly.
“For me, you mean,” cried Lucy,
who boro the only pretty face of the
family.
“Isn’t it for me?” asked Ann, as she re
membered that Mr. Gustavus Thorp had
walked home with her the last time she
was caught in a shower.
The matter was speedily settled, how
ever, by Kate, who had contrived to gain
possession of the letter, and was reading
“Miss Francis Harper” in no gentle
voice.
“Give it to me directly, and don’t tease
me so, Kate,” cried Fanny.
4 4 Wait a minute till I’ve found out who
it’s from,” said Kate, peeping under the
seal. “Let me see—Thom—Thomas 1
There, do take it.”
My dear reader did you ever write, re
ceive or read a love letter?
“Not I, thank fortune,” growls tha
cross old bachelor.
“Nor I,” sighs poor Aunt Nabby.
“That’s a secret,” whispers pretty El
len.
Well, then to you who know nothing oi
such matters, an explanation or even a
sight of Fanny’s letter would bo unin
telligible; and as for you who have al
ready dozens of your own, you can, of
course, feel little curiosity respecting
this one. Besides, what right have Ito
read you Fanny’s secret?
Fanny came down to dinner with an
air of dignity quite unusual to her.
“Do tell us who the letter was from?”
asked Lucy.
“Shall you say yes?” called Sam, from
the end of the table.
“Of course she will, and wo will be
uncles and aunts,” roared Tom.
“Thomas, leave the table, directly,”
cried Mrs. Harper.
“les, mamma,” said Tom, encouraged
by the blushes and titters of the four
sisters; “but is it for* saying that Fanny
would say yes, or that wo should bo
uncles and aunts?”
“Go away, you naughty boy!” and
Tom w r as gone.
When dinner was over, Fanny took
her mother aside and begged her to read
the letter.
“Well,” Aaid Mrs. Harper, after a si
lence of thirty-five minutes, “a very pretty
letter, I must say—but who is this
Thomas Somerby?”
“Why, mamma,” replied Fanny, “I
don’t exactly remember ever seeing him,
but—”
“Ah, well, that’s of no consequence.
You shall answer this letter directly—
just the situation for you. Let me see
lives in the country during the summer
months. La, we can take the children
and spend at least four out of the year
with you every season.”
“Dear mamma, you forget that I am
at the head bf the Anti-Matrimonial So
ciety.”
4 ‘But that’s of no consequence. Only
think of your friend Julia—such
a nice house—such elegant furniture—
such a sweet baby as she lias!”
“Yes, Julia seems very happy; and,
do you know, mamma, she has really
urged me of late to be more charitable
in my opinions of gentlemen. After all,
I have possibly been to severe.”
Fanny retired to her own room to
meditate upon Mr. Somerby. A tap at
her door aroused her from the reverie
iuto which she had fallen, and Kate,
with an air of great importance, made
her appearance.
“And so, Fanny, you are reall ingoing
to take this Mr. What’6-his-name? You
needn't blush, for mamma has told us all
about it, and we have planned out about
the dresses anti everything; and after
you are married you know I shall have
your room, for papa says I may. And
there’s another thing which I must tell
you. Oh, Fanny, I hope I shall have a
love letter some of these days.”
Fanny hardly knew whether to laugh
or cry, but in spite of the grave face
which she found it expedient to put on,
several little smiles twinkled in her eyes,
smiles that said: “Kate, you are a dar
ling, but I musn’t let you know I think
SO,
“Well,” continued Kate, “have you
written the answer? Let me see it, do.
Come now, I shan’t tell the girls what
pretty things you say to him. ”
“Katy,” said Fanny, solemnly “you
must not talk any more about the matter.
I confess that it is very hard to disap
point you all and to distress him, but it
must bo done.”
Now’, if there was anything that Kate
particularly disliked it was to see tears
shed by anybody for any reason; there
fore, as she began to suspect that Fanny
meditated some such act, she lost no
time in retreating.
When Fanuy came to tea she was as
sailed by a host of questions, congratu
lations, and kisses from papa, mamma,
her four sisters and three brothers.
“How d’ye do, Mrs. Somerby?” asked
one.
“Now for the wedding cake,” shouted
Tom.
“You’ll let me be bridesmaid, won’t
you?” urged Ann.
“And if Mr. S. giveeyou a gold watch
won’t you give me your old one?” asked
Matilda.
After tea no one seemed inclined to
set about any regular employment. Papa
held his newspaper before his eyes as
usual, but it was at last discovered by
Kate that it had been upside down for
an hour. Mamma’s knitting work lay
quietly in her lap, while her thoughts
wandered off to a certain fine house in
the country, where several children ran
Devoted to Industrial Interest, the Diffiuioß of Truth, the Establishment of Justife* and the Preservation of a People’s Government.
INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA.
about, bearing a decided resemblance to
her daughter Fanny. Matilda, Ann
and Lucy withdrawn into a snug comer,
debated the questions whether he were
handsome or otherwise; if he had dark
hair or light, if he had not several broth
ers, etc.
Dreams, such as had never visited
them before, came this night to the
members of the Harper family. A tall,
melancholy man, with black whiskers
and black coat, disturbed the slumbers
of the gentle Fanny; mamma talked in
her sleep of “fine establishment—just
the thing for Fan; don’t you think so,
pa?” And Mr. H. answered -without
waking: “Yes, my dear, he’ll put his
name on my notes, I dare say.” Pretty
little young men, brothers of Mr. Som
erby, flitted around the apartments of
Lucy and of Ann, while visions of plum
cake danced temptingly before the eye
of Tom and Sam.
Poor Fanny was in sad perplexity.
Her mamma had expressed it as her
opinion that the match was a desirable
one, she had even hinted that her
daughter might never have “another
chance,” and that for her part she could
depart in peace should she see her fam
ily comfortably settled for life.
And Fanny’s filial affection conquered
all her scrapples, and she resolved to
see, to accept Mr. Somerby.
“Yes,” said she to herself, as she again
dwelt upon the tenderness of the prec
ious letters, “the sacrifice must be made.
I must gratify my dear mother, even
though it be at the expense of my own
happiness. I will be Mrs. Somerby.”
Fanny looked out upon the quiet sky,
the moon and stars, and thought, “How
fine a tale could be made from this—a
daugh&r sacrificing herself for the sake
of her mother!”
It was time to write her answer to the
letter; but how should she begin? Must
it be with “Mr. Somerby, sir?” Oh, no,
that was too formal. With “My dear
sir?” That was too affectionate. And
when the matter had been settled and
the letter fairly written, the equally im
portant question remained how she
should subscribe herself. Was she to be
“Yours, respectfully,” or “truly,” or
“sincerely,” or “affectionately?” A diffi
cult problem!
But all things have an end, and the
letter was sent. Then it was that
Fanny’s heart began to quake. What if
Mr. S. should not fancy her handwriting?
Perhaps her note was too cold, maybe
too hot; he might not expect an answer
so soon and would be shocked at her
haste. But all these heart-quakings
were in vain—the letter was gone.
To pass away the time, which now
hung heavily upon her hands, Fanny
called to tell Julia the whole story. The
kind friend was in raptures. “Just the
man for you, my dear,” she cried. “So
he says he has met you in your walks
and at church. Well,’ I can imagine
how he looks; he’s the very image of my
husband, I’ve no doubt.”
Fanny next called upon the second di
rectress of the Anti-Matrimonial Society,
a young lady of an uncertain age, and
informed her that for private reasons
she must resign her own office, begging
her friend to make this resolution known
to the society at their next meeting.
Meanwhile the four sisters ran to tml
the news. Each one had her own par
ticular friend who must not be forgotten,
aud in the course of two days, it was
kno-wn to all Fanny’s acquaintances that
the fair damsel had been wooed and
won. The third day passed, and there
had come no letter from the impatient
lover. Fanny resolved not to sleep a
wink that night. “What will become of
me,” thought she; “I must be in love!”
Iu the midst of her despair she fell
asleep.
The next morning a little note, sealed
with “Forgive and forget!” was brought
from the office. Fanny ran to her own
room to read it at her ease, pressing it to
her lips all the way up stairs. Behold
the note opened:
“Dear Fanny” —(“Why, how bold!”
thought she) —“We have been amusing
ourselves at your expense by writing you
a letter signed‘Thomas Somerby.’ We
are afraid that we have carried the mat
ter too far, and must now beg you to
think of this imaginary person no longer.
Now don’t be angry, Fanny dear, for we
are both quite sorry, and are ready to
hunt up for you a real Mr. S., who will
write better letters than the pretended
one. Affectionately,
“JuiiiA and George.”
Fanny sat like one petrified. At last
she slowly rose, looked in the glass to
know if she were pale, tried to faint
away, and called her mamma. Mrs.
Harper’s indignation knew no bounds.
“And so we shall have no wedding,
after all,” said Ann.
“And we shan’t have our new dresses,”
sighed Matilda.
“And there’ll be no wedding cake,”
screamed Tom.
“It was that horrid George Thomp
son, ” suggested Fanny.
“What an impertinent fellow,” cried
Kate.
And everybody, vexed and disap
pointed, turned away to fret, to wander
aud to scold. Ann and Lucy ran to bum
up the verses which they had written
about wedded bliss; Kate descended to
the kitchen to tell the story there, mid
Bam. and Tom, having vented their dis
appointment in bestowing upon Mr.
George Thompson the name of “weak
sister,” departed for schooL
“I thought it was a hoax all the time,”
said Fanny, the next time she met Julia.
“Oh, did you? Well, lam glad of it.
We were afraid that vou did not suspect
it,”
“La, as if I should ever marry!” re
turned Fanny.
NEWS GLEANINGS.
Twelve hundred cars of lumber and
shingles were shipped from Beaumont,
Texas, during April.
Fishermen recently from the gulf
stream report having seen schools of
Spanish mackerel which were unprece
dented in number.
Maine capitalists have formed a com
pany, wit*i stock fixed at $200,000,
bought property opposite the City Hall
at Hot Springs, Ark., and will erect a
mammoth hotel.
Haynesville (Ala.) Examiner: We
notice th£ millions of locusts all over
this section of the county. They eat
the leaves of trees, grass, etc., but have
not bothered the crops as yet.
The late Dr. Hemry Hull, who was
born in Wilkes county, Ga., in 1798,
and died May 10, 1881, was professor of
mathematics and astronomy in the State
University at Athens, Ga., 1829-1846.
He was associated with General Andrew
Jackson in concluding the treaty with
the Cherokee Indians.
Certain colored military companies
have applied for admission into the
State militia of Louisiana. These or
ganization will be mustered in when
properly perfected and uniformed, if
they pass inspection. The New Orleans
States says that one of these companies,
the Attacks Guards, called after the first
colored man killed on the battle field
during the civil war, has existed, in an
independent condition, for some time,
and bears a fair character for instruc
tion and dicipline.
Dr. W. C. Capeheart, who owns two
fisheries on Albemarle sound, in North
Carolina, told a Herald reporter that he
thought the spawning ground of the
striped b*ss or rock fish has been found.
If it can be defiinitely located he thinks
that the results will be beyond compu
tation, and the rock will rapidly become
the mb-'* important fish in Southern
waters. V
A*4erson (S. C.) Intelligencer: There
is some talk —in fact, a strong probabil
ity—that;ai effort will be made in An
derson this summer to elect a dry ticket,
and in view of this movement we are
informed that the wholesale liquor deal
ers residing outside of the State have,
by their salesmen, promised to contri
bute from two to six barrels of whisky
towards controlling tne vote in favor of
a continuance of license. * * * We
will not submit to outside interference
in oui elections, and those
engaged , in the liquor business, either
within or without the town, had better
not umkortake to control those elections
by contributions of free whisky by
parties outside of the State.
(Ga.) Dispatch: In
Dodge tounty last week the editor of
this psjuer talked with the tax receiver
of that county. He gave us figures
shower, that the taxable property of
that county had increased in 1880 over
1879 to'4he amount of over SIIB,OOO, or
about twenty per cent. On Saturday
last tb? late tax receiver of Pulaski
county informed us that the taxable
property of this county had increased
during *“he last four years nearly a half
million dollars, Or frem $1,125,000 to
$1,160X00. In Telfair county the in
crease ii one year was about $150,000,
and ifi ‘ Coffee county the increase was
about $135,000.
Minden, La., correspondence New Or
leans democrat: Webster parish is
noted for an abundance of fish and
game. Hundreds, we might say thous
ands of persons, make it convenient to
spend jt few days during the spring or
summer on the banks of the Dorchete
catching fish. The bayou is at these
seasons literally filled with cat, buffalo,
trout, black and striped bass, white or
speckled perch, red perch and goggle
eye, pike, gar, turtle, etc. Deer, wild
turkey, etc. are so numerous in the flats
west of the Dorchete, as to seriously
annoy farmers, in the winter season
an immense number of wild fowl are
found in Lake Briteneau—the various
kinds of duck, brant, geese and occa
sionally a swan. The parish is indeed a
hunters paradise.
Doty and Inclination.
Ton never see the struggle between
duty and inclination more strongly
marked in the respectful attitude
of a dog sitting on the sidewalk, head
bent' back, and one foot aimed at the
back of his ear, undecided whether to
SDriiur ud and answer the imperative
3? hi. master, or sit sffll and
shoot the flea fie has just got the exact
range and elevation on.
Effect of Dynamite in a Boston Man’s
Stomach.
Mr. Meatmarket deserved sympathy.
The assassination of the Gear caused
much discussion of the power of dyna
mite, and in a beer saloon one day Mr.
M. expressed the belief that if a dog were
to swallow a teaspoonful of the stuff and
then be thrown from a fourth-story win
dow he would blow up with a concussion
that would loosen all the plastering
within a quarter of a mile. The proposi
tion seemed absurb to Mr. Gallagher.
He resolved to test the sincerity of
Meatmarket’s belief. Going behind the
bar he mixed a drink, and after the lat
ter had swallowed the drink Gallagher
informed him that there was something
like five spoonfuls of dynamite in it. The
horror that took possession of Meat
market was indescribable. He evidently
was sincere. He drew a pistol to shoot
Gallagher, but didn’t dare to fire for fear
the concussion would cause him to ex
plode. And the crowd wanted him to be
careful. And he begged them to move
lightly, and took off his boots so as not
to jar, and the streets were crowded and
every body seemed to jostle him. H©
had a horrible time getting home, and
arrived there in a cold sweat and nearly
exhausted. Just as he entered the house
his wife rushed to embrace him. He
warned her off. Then his son upset the
irtoye and gave him a terrible scare. He
retired to liis chamber and lay on a feather
bed, and gave orders that nobody should
walk, excepton tiptoe, and without shoes,
in the house. He didn’t dare to take an
emetic to remove the stuff, for fear it
would be exploded in coming up. And
the agonies of terror he suffered were
awful. There was danger of his going
mad. But the worst was to come. Some
how his house got afire. It had got
great headway when discovered, and his
only escape was to jump from a second
story window. Whether to die by burn
ing or explosion was a terrible question
to decide. His distress of mind was
dreadful; but the hot flames drove him
to the leap. He expected on alighting
to blow himself and all the bystanders
into eternity, and he yelled to them to
stand away; but they didn’t, and he had
to leap among them. To his amazement
he didn’t fly into a thousand fragments.
He only skinned his hands and knees.
He rose up the happiest man in Boston.
But when he began to tell of his marvel
ous escape they informed him he was the
victim of a joke. He hadn’t swallowed
any dynamite. Then his wrath was
greater than his terror, and it took four
men to hold him till he calmed down a
little. And he is only waiting to meet
Gallagher to cut that gent’s throat.—
Boston JPost.
A Poet’s Study.
A correspondent of the Louisville
Courier-Journal, who has been visiting
Mr. Longfellow’s home, writes: “If the
influence of surroundings can be felt in
conversation it surely might in that
delightful apartment; the room where
most of Mr. Longfellow’s poems have
been written, and where many of his
souvenirs are gathered from abroad and
distant parts of this country. It is
large and square and has several win
dows in it. There are carved bock-cases
(one of which is filled with his own
works), portraits of his literary friends
in their youth, and two of himself—one
taken at the age of twenty, the other re
cently—some venerable cabinets, plenty
of easy-chairs, etc. In one corner, be
tween two windows, eash having a wide
and varied prospect, is his writing-desk,
heaped with papers. I paused theis a
moment and looked out on the hills and
the trees, as if to catch some memento
of the inspiration that has come to the
poet in that particular place. In the
center of the room is a large square table,
laden with many objects. The inkstand
used by Wordsworth (I think), some
rare books, notably a copy of the first
edition of Bryant’s poems, some Vene
tian vases, filled with newly cut flowers,
etc., etc. As Mr. Longfellow talked
with me of Hawthorn and Emerson, he
pointed to their portraits—and of many
other authors and authoresses, English,
German, Italian, and American—it was
delightful to find that ho expressed
himself so kindly of all. Of course, I
was eager to hear him talk, and sug
gested topics, if he paused with infinite
courtesy for me to express an opinion.
In speaking of Dante, he went to a
carved oak box and unlocked it, from
which he brought forth a little glass case,
in which are some bits of the great
Italian’s coffin. After a while he showed
me the lower part of his house, the
drawing-room, with its objects of art,
and the stair-case, where a tall Dutch
clock rests on the landing—not *The
Clock on the Stair-case,’ but a more
fanciful one that has taken the old
clock’s place. It is a quaint house, not
elegant, but more than that, it is charm
ing, homelike, and telling, as everything
in it gives one an idea of its unusual oc
cupation. One would hardly believe it
could be one hundred and fifty years old.
Washington lived in it nine months.
His office was the room used by Mr.
Longfellow as his study. Most of the
rooms are as Washington left them in
shape, although some trifling alterations
have been made. On the east side oi
the house is a broad piazza, where the
poet loves to walk. He still writes and
works as though he was a young man.
He is vigorous, and bids fair for many
years to come to enjoy the honors which
his talents and industry have created fot
him.
A German paper says that Carl
Schurz speaks better English than any
American does. We would reply to this
foolish and prejudiced person in the
language of Goethe: “Auchderchowder
dowzen nichts mer zwei lager und der
pretzel. Das ist ein campaign lie
giedamt.”— New York Commercial,
SUBSCRIPTION-$1.50.
NUMBER 41.
GEMS OF THOUGHT.
On every night thero lies repose.
Imagination is the greatest despot.
There is no real life but cheerful life.
.Want of good sense is the worst kind
of poverty.
Impatience dries the blood sooner
than age or sorrow.
Love without return is like a question
without an answer.
Love; faith, patience—the three essen
tials to a happy life.
Pride hath two seasons—a forward
spring and a early fall.
It is best not to dispute where there
is no possibility of convincing.
Asa fire is discovered by its own light,
so is virtue by •its own excellence.
Ideas are like beards; men do not have
them till they grow up— Voltaire.
Pretty women are like sovereigns; one
flatters them only through interest.
There are three classes of'men; the ret
rograde, the stationary, the progressive.
Great souls by instinct to each other turn
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn.
—Addison.
Suspicions among thoughts are like
bats among birds; they ever fly by twi
light.
Always there is a black spot in our
sunshine; it is the shadow of ourselves.
— Carlyle.
The wise man as well as the fool makes
blunders. The wise man, however,
never makes the same blunder twice.
Appearnces are nothing, if you are in
the right, but if you are in the wrong
you must pay especial attention to them.
No man knows what a ministering
angel his wife is until he has gone with
her through the fiery trials of this world.
There’s not a heart, however rude,
But hath some little flower,
To brighten up its solitude.
And scent the evening hour.
Pleasure is seldom found where it is
sought. Our highest blazes of gladness
are commonly kindled by unexpected
sparks.
The best way to apologize is to do
such a kindness to the offended one that
he will forget that you ever attempted to
injure him.
As man is the wiser for his learning,
it may administer matter to work in, or
objects to work upon; but wit and wisdom
are born with a man.
Well, well the world must, turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering mind shifts, shift our sails.
The way to produce a smile on the
face of nature is to plant it with seeds of
flowers. Tickle naturo in that way and
she will laugh with blossoms.
The foundation of every good govern- *
ment is the family. The best and most
prosperous country is that which has the
greatest number of happy firesides.
Many a splendid genius was the despair
of a good father when young. But all
of a sudden he awoke and went into ac
tion like a soldier into battle, and made
a name that will live forever.
The two most precious things on this
side of the grave are our reputation and
our life. But it is to be lamented that
the most contemptible whisper may de
prive us of one, and the weakest weapon
of the other.
Love ! what is it, and whence comes
it? How much has been written about
it, and how idly! Neither statement,
comparison, nor analysis avails. Love is
love, a thing like nothing else in the
world—as real as a second sight. It
alone bestows the power of seeing a
hundred new truths otherwise invisible.
— Michelet.
A Very Funny Criticism.
The pass to which foreigners may be
led by mistaking so-called Americanisms
for the normal and habitual speech of
the country is well shown in the follow
ing edifying paragraph from Karl Faul
mann’s Illustrirte Cultur-Oeschichte ,
volume 1, page 134. The column headed
“Amerikanisch” is given in all earnest
ness as a specimen of the English spoken
in America, while under it is placed
what the author considers the correct
English equivalent. The italics are ours:
AM ERIK A NISH.
I haf ron funny )eed!e poy
Votgomee rchust to my knee,
Der queerest schap, der createst rogue,
As efer you dit see;
He runs and schutups and schmasches dings
In all barts off der hause—
But rot off dot? he vas my son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
nrouscH.
I hare one funny little boy
What game* just to my knee,
The queerest iha)>e, the greatest rogue,
A* ever you did see;
He runs and jumps and smashes things
In all parts of the house.
But what of that? he mu my son,
My little Jacob Strauss.
A woxi)EKFuniiY gigantic scheme has
been brought to the attention at
the New York General Assembly, in
the shape of a water route from New
York to Chicago. It is proposed to util
ize the Erie Canal by lining it through
out its entire leDgth (352 miles) with a
thick layer of hydraulic cement, at a cost
of SIO,OOO a mile, or $3,500,000 for the
entire length. The western part of the
plan contemplates a canal of equal ca
pacity with the Erie across Southern
Michigan, by which it is estimated 1,000
miles of lake navigation can be saved.
The capital is to be furnished by the
Western capitalists, who will ask no re
muneration from New York for the im
provement to the Erie Canal until the
whole canal debt is paid off, and are
willing to trust their reimbursement
then to the honor of the people, who
must amend the State Constitution be
fore a dollar can be paid for any such
purpose. The canal will afford naviga
tion for steam propellers of moderate
size, which will average a speed of fif
teen miles an hour.