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W.F. SMITH, D. J. THAXTON & S. J. SMITH, Publishers.
fora warning.
fCttn fifty U happ,mc<3 ’ thm '* h
And ',o±f„ , lSrl!!"’ nk curlous ">'—
For though tiling that lately happenod ellt
Tny nmi'l, an<l fad * awav,
of r th'J“4" hUll ' ,CVOr lo *> <he motors
** r‘ZTX^" ny^ wot,
““ S'*"' '-'tothor. 11,1 bis fn,or te
.', 1 U : , ub°"" ibo "" kJ '' ortb. p .ut-
S " ' c'nfM-lif-'" rri ' ~| - |f tbu truth nmittat
A "" b'ou^bSlJ’g,®;™' 8 br0,1,,5r ooutinjrasoui
Ju ' t *^s v n^„ Thank ' , ' rvi "* nzra ro,i?
A ‘ ’.ssib'Sr! b;^; ,k, " i! -“ our
AmJ wan nw^v, ,kG " ny b UVor ’ ll!1 th i time
au(f stowing apples for th com
-1 was hot an t tired. n,.d nervous, when hoiral
"P‘d hom • at; oigiit— *
Ail that and iy my work i.-juJ piagued mo, nothin*
Seemed to<ro just r.uht.
‘•Her-' ith 44 ur. T-iic ndy,” said ho; “it’s .'hr
best ere is in tow i;
I tor; m I u U UO, u-far, J,ut Ivo brought
• nougli ot Im own. ”
V,M, i, r '^.Vt ol V i, l cr,< cl in fui T) and the tear*
began to fall;
!r ‘° <IG ““ errand Hnd forget it
I was cross and clean discouraged, as 1 thought
he ought to know;
liut he turned as white as marble when hi
heard me speaking so.
Not a w. rd ho said in answer, but ho starto:
tor ttin door.
And In less than hair a minute gallopo l down
the road once inoro.
Th, n 1 T'WVly cried try oyos out, what with
griet and fe ir and h nv
ii i was good an 1 kind and patient; ] was al)
til one to hi im •.
And tb • hours wore on t 11 midnight, an l mv
bear seemed turned t stoat*, *
As l listened for his coming wlnlo j sat there
all alone.
"ith the daylight eane n neighbor; “E-n ha*
.... b< ea hurt,” he a id;
1 ound iieside the road unconscious; taken
up at first fordt ad"
Just hob i>d him earn*- four o h rs. with a bur
"i‘U Slowly br ugii' ;
As Jtj|r,. i( | rnd oiimbiv watched them youiar
guess of all 1 thought I
Oh, the days and nights that followed! Ezra
I ved. but that was all;
And with tearless ey* s l waited for the wor3t
that might befall.
' antleri ng in a wild delirium, broken phrases
how and th >n
Dropped from lev red lips, and told me what
his painful thoughts had b eu.
Thanksgiving dawned tip >n us. Job cam' 8
early, shocked to meet
a broken-hear e l woman for (he bride he
hoped to gro-t.
Not a word we spoke together in that liusho J
hud situ down I room.
Where wo waited for the twil ght darkening
down to deeper gloom;
For the doctor sal 1 that morning; “There is
nothing more to do;
if ho lives till after sunset, I, perhaps,can pull
him through."
Just ns five o’clock was striking, Ezra woke
and feeblv stirred;
uhd you get the sugar, darling?” were the
words | fn ntly h nrd.
flow 1 cried! You can’t imagine howl felt to
hoar him speak.
Or to sco his loo.t of wonder as I bent to kiss
his cheek.
’Well, l t told a long, long story—Ezra’s com
up the walk—
Hut, l’yeh <1 a purpose in it; ’twasn’t just for
% idle talk.
Iktn’t you think, my dear, you’d better make
your quttrr-1 up w th Or ty?
it save a world of trouble, and it’s near
thanksgiving ’'n.v.-Q r xtian Union.
A STRANGER Ai THE BOARD.
A Thanksgiving Story.
It snowed the night. before Thanks
giving that year. Through the evening
there was a half-defined mist in the
gray air that seemed like the all per
vading chilliness taking form, and
everybody who was going away, or
who was to have company and that
took in nearly all of New England ,
went to bed with a dim foreboding of
disappointment on the morrow.
“There is four inches oi snow, at
least,” said Farmer Draper on thanks
giving morning, as be ame in from the
big barn, stamping his leet vigorous y
upon the stone lloor of the aek porch.
“ Four inches, at least, and that isn t
the worst of it. it is covered with a
crust as thin and sharp, almost, as win
dow glass. 1 declare here is a hole in
one of mv rusher bt>ots a ready/’
"I don’t know what to do about
cooking the turkey/’ said Mo her
Draper, setting a large platter of steam
inir stewed chicken upo i the breakfast
table “ I don t see how Aunt at her
ine and the girls are to get down here
fo day; or Frank and his wife, or the
boys, either, for that matter. *
’•lt is a bad morning for horses to
travel, to be sure.” ©aid William, com
ing in from the barn just then, “but
Thanksgiving is never postponed on ac
count of the weather, so I will tell you
what 1 propose to do 1 wll tackle up
the steers, all four yoke, and hitch
them to the long wood sled and go lor
the company, it will be great fun. be
sides showing mv good uispos tioi by
breaking a track for my neighbors.
Wi can go. too. sis. if vou have a mind
fo; we will start right awav alter break
fast/’ 6
“U will be pretty cold,” said her
mother.
“ And that ain’t the worst of it,’’ put
in her father. “I e she will be
needed he e about the ch cken ' xens.”
Mother will get along until Aunt
f *therine gets here; she is a whole
l<, *ru and a horse to let So put on
jour water-proof, old maid, and come
down and help me ta kle. Yo i need
be afia and of your beau getting here
before you return, or certainly, if he
has to walk, he c n"t make great head-
Wav this morning/’
Jennie, a bright, handsome, trim
nftle body, being the oldest of the
children, was a’ways teasinglv
called “the old maid,” by her four
pothers, who delighted in* joking her
*bout an expeoted lover who never
“Jennie’s beau” was a sort of
mythical scape-goat *in the family to
*“°m all imag nable, absurd blunders
•*l*i*haps were attributed.
now 3he made some laughing re-
HeTottd to Indu. trial Inter st, the Diffo iin of Troth, the Establishment of Jostice. and the Preservation of a Peoples’Government.
sponse, and when her brother marshaled
hi- team, consisting of alternate yokes
ot red and white steers, two yokes of
each, she took her place upon a bund e
of straw in the center o the huge sled.
“There, sis/’ and W IFam. taking lrs
seat, u oh the neap of the sled and
brandishing his long whip. 4 you look
Ike the genius of l hankeg vng going
round on a tour of inspection” among
the brick ovens, and your team is and”
as ;anci ul as the re.nde. rs of St.
Ni .choias.”
It grew more and more fanciful
moment r.ly, tor it soon be.an to rain,
and as i lip line oebing drops froze as
they tell, the whole turn-out was Iran
formed into an e hibition of ice newlv
ifo/en lor tiie occasion from the A ctic
region. Alter having been round the
square and picked up all the Draper
b-ood in the townsh p they retraced
their steps, stopping at n arly e ery
hon e lor a merry interchange o f gr et
ings, “.Just to break the gloom that the
storm had cast o\er every th ng.”
idiam said. But at every house it was
noticeable that lie threw out a few sug
gestive words to the boys that set them
think ng there was no fun < u te so tie
si ab c for Thanksgiving day as breaking
steers.
The merriment of the morning was
kept up ttrough the dav by the young
peop’e, while Mother Draper ami Aunt
< ather.ne moved mysteriously about
and compared notes over dripping
pans, sauce-pans and pipkins in the
kitchen.
D nner was to be early, so that the
two Draper bo s who were emploved
upon the railroad th t cut n twain the
b oad acres of their‘a her’s farm could
be i nek at tiie station at train time in
the afternoon.
Aunt ( atherne's lovely daughter?
he!] cd their pretty cousin Jenny io so*
tl.e tab’e, of course, and they manared
slvlv to have one piate and one chair
too ma y. and by a great deal of ma
nueuvr ng in seati g the company, ihis
plate and chair were left beside Jennie
for the long e peeled beau.
“llelias ’t come yet, and that isn’t
the worst of it—l hope he i ever will,”
said Farmer Draper, looking affection
ate] v across the ta >le at his daughter as
he bowed his h ad to ttsh the blessing.
“ I believe he is comi g t ow, uncle; 1
really do,” exclaimed Louise the mo
men the good fa raer had re opened his
c\es, ad sure enough, as they loosed
out the win low they saw a sioutly built
you g man 1 ravelv breasting the storm,
\ei showi g a ceitai i wearii ess as he
walk and along the slippery way.
'I he* weath r had changed again bv
this time, and the air was full of great
loath rv I akes, as it al> the feath rs of
all the fowls that.graced that day’s din
n> rin New E gland had been "cast to
the four wi ds.
“He : s comb’g in! ’ “No. he is going
b*!’’ “Yes, he has decided to call ” as
ihe young man, who was ev.dentlv a
stra gar looked agai at the polished
wi (lows that eve i on the outside gave
a hint of warmth ad good cheer within.
“ Bow-wow-wow!” bark and Pi chers,
the house do •-, in a deoided'y euiiivoca'
welcome, esuecalh' when taki g into
co sideraton i is huge proper o s ad
savage ar. ad the stranger was tir ni g
away as th % pia zi door opened and
John had called out: —
“Down, P n hers down!’ Come in,
come in, sir, ou of the storm!”
“ I tanks ver said the stranger, giving
his ha’ and coat a hake, thus divesting
them o their burden of snow, and fol
lowing John directly i; to the dini g
room. ad, with a graceful bow to the
company, seating himself by the l.re.
“We were expecting you,” said
Joh i. We have the table set for you
as \ou may see Sit right uo. ’
“ k es. yes ’ ass n ed Farmer Draper;
“s’t r ght up, you a e c >ld anil tired,
of coarse, but that isn t the worst of it.
\oumustbeh ngr , too. You can get
warm and re-ted and tilled at thetabl *.”
Louise, to ca rv on the joke, and to
treat Jenn e’s long-expected beau with
due cordia ity, pushed back t e vacant
chair, and .lentiie, not to be out-done,
glanced up and see ng a comely, neatly
dresse 1 youn r mem at her elbow gave
h m one o her sweet sm les. mot otied
him to the seat lies; de her a id passed his
pi te to her atlier to be helped.
The stranger evidi ntly understood
verv little o all the merry ta k going
on around th * board, but he sat down
in the proffered chair, bowed his head
for a moment as if invok ng a si ent
bless n-*■, and then proceeded with h.s
meai.
“ You haf large family.” he said pres
ently to the lanuer, carefullv studying
his words, “and you haf much meat. ’
looking around with ev dent astonish
ment at the groaning able, for Mother
1 raper and Aunt Ca her ne held to tne
old fa<h on that everyth ng belonging
to the Th nk'giving dinner must be on
the table be ore the am ly were seated.
“ We don't live like this right a ong,’’
explained the farmer, “and that isn t
the worst of it—we don’t want to. This
is 4 Thanksgiving. ”
All this to the disgust of William, who
was expostu at.ng “Oh. goodness, fath
er. why mst you tell hin that! hy
don t \ oil make him i el eve that th s is
onlv a pioked-uo and nner?”
The vounsr p ople all joined in alangh
at ihis,"bur the srrancer repe ted:
*• Thanksgiving? Thank vou! Thank
God? I see! I know. I hear about
it. I not knew it to-day. Every door
I call i tind good smells, like Christmas
at home. No one say *oome in/ Here
dog say ‘Walk in.’ You say ‘Wel
come/ ” and the voting man looked
grate ully at John’s smiling fa e. and
.hen went on with his dinner with a
hearty rel.sh
“Gracious! See him lay in for sup
ples,” said John, pas-ing the onions,
j ** Don't inflict such a stow-away upon
us, Jennie. I verily believe it is the
‘Robin fo bobbin, the big-bell : ed Ben,*
that we used to read about in the Moth
er (100 e boo
“Goose! Goose!” cried the stranger,
nodding toward the skeleton of the
turkey, “ I understand, 1 think, this be
Yankee Christmas ”
“ Soiu thing of that sort.” said the
farmer, “but that i-n t the worst of it
Christmas is \et to come.”
“ vv here are vou going?” asked one
of lit* boys, and a ter the question had
been frame in varlo swa s, he sad
“To Canada. There haf 1 friends.
A mistake I madi. I come to the wrong
town you call it? 1 write letters. 1
s> end. all m mone s. Igo walking
now tr Canada and tind mv friends, my
brother. Now how man md^sr”
• “Too many or a lellow lo walk this
slippery traveling.” aa and ohn.
“ sav, D ck, old boy, ’ to h’s broth
er. “what do you sav to putting him
in the ctib io.se and <Gv ng him a li t?”
“A 1 right.” sad the good-natured
voung freight con uctor. It would
be a good deed or 'l’hanksgiv’ng Day.
Will trans er li m at the Essex -'it ic
t on to-morrow morning, if 1 don’t go
through, ant he will be in the ‘Do
minion be ore lie knows it.”
“ Put him up a lunch, mother,
enough to last h.m nut of the co-inirv.
and save your tears. Jen, he will un
uou! tedly return when he gets a better
ueof oir language. It would be love
mak ng under diuiculties at present.”
Jennie looked indignant, but the in
telligent young stranger, although ob
servant and alert was ent rely oblivious
of all rer-o ml alLv-sions.
Mother Draper packed a strong, good
si ed i a er ong wth lunch saying,
with tears: “ I here was never such
good h arted boys a* my bovs,” and
Aunt Cat lier’ne, who had a boy of her
own somewhere in the far W est, gave
the st i anger a dol.ar as she bade him
good-bye.
The steer team wa taken : n the midst
of another snow urrv; ml, s the merry
com anv went back through the pretty
sheltered neighborhood ih y found an
escort in the way of a steer team wait
ing in every door \ ard so that by the
time they reached the little village
about the raiGvay stat’on the Draper
turn out headed a dec.dedly unique
proeess’on.
'l he stranger asked a great many not
very c< herent questions. The boys
amused them-elves by assnr ; ng him it
vv :s a demonstration in his honor, it
being a custom of the town to thus en
tertain foreigners. 'lhe girls entered
into part culars and explained the real
occas on of the display of young bo
vine and it would have been h: rd to
tind a more bew ldered individual than
was Lowed into the ire ght caboose by
the m ling ■ ohn. while all the bo s,
who were dancing around managing
the lialf-br >ken seers. united n a hearty
hurrah, and all the g’rD on all the sle Is
waved their pocket handkerchiefs in
adieu.
“ What you do with me?” the stranger
asked, looking around the s..ug, well
warmed little car.
“t’anad //’,” replied Dick, imitating
the traveler s pr nunciation.
“No moneys!” and the young man
proceeded to turn his pockets inside out,
whereupon Dick explained to the
amusement of hirasel anclh s comrades
and the increased bewilderment of the
stranger, that he had a lien on the rail
road and all the stock until his next
month’s wages were pa and.
“ He was sound asleep on one of the
bunks in the caboose when we readied
E>sex,” said Di k, “and 1 turned him
over to Ben Leet and told h m to sho e
him through into the Dominion and not
let the custom-house o ’ eers at M Ar
ma and collect duty on lhe fragments of
mother’s turkev and mince pie.”
Thanksgivings came and went, and
eve y icar at the Draper homestead
they 'alkod over that snowy 1 hanksgiv
ing when “ ennie’s beau” sat down to
the e ist. and wondered who he wa?
and what became of him and what kind
o an impress on of a New England
Thanksgiving he carried awav
Last year at aeon ention where there
were assembled in Christ an tell >wship
pe p e irorn a 1 p rts of the world, a
Fien h gentleman said to a lady With
wnom he was conversing:
“ I have never been n the States but
om e eiore, and then 1 had a cur otis
experience, i landed in New York
from a • reach ship w.th only a mere
smattering of English. 1 wanted to go
to mv friends n Be ford. < anada, but
th ou_rh carelessness of otfic als 1 was
sent to i edford, Mass. I found ray mis
take there and was started for my prop
er dest nat on, but my money ga e out,
and being young and strong and reso
lute l detei mined not to I e discouraged
but to m ke my way on foot, it was
late in the fall. ~ I had no t ouble in ob
taining food and shelter at night and
pushed on bravely no il a snow sto m
o ertook me. Oh, what a< ay that was!
1 cal ed at mauy doors but was i ot in
vited to en er. At iast, when almost
wear ed out, 1 re che i a th t v.as
to me Ike an entrance into Heaven. I
pin lied myself to see if I was still in
the body.” There was warmth and a
cost and laugh er and est and song and
iiitle chil ren and ladies in hr ght
dre-ses. 1 was welcome and a plate
wai ed for me. After L.e feast 1 was
taked with all thegu 'sts on a huge sled
< rawn by oxen to the station, i ther
sim lar teams oined ours in the lo g,
wide country stre et. T hey escorted me
to the s atio’n and in’o the cars and I
was so-1 to my fr ends free of charge.
• When I ie overed from m fatigue
and wanted to write and thank mv
fr ends. I knew not the town, the State
! nor the names even of my entertainers
! snd preservers, as I may call them. I
‘ knew noth ng of it at aL no more than.
a baby, and now I w ll ask you as I
1 have asked others; do you know anght
of such a country festival, "where long
JACKSON, GEORGIA.
strngs of oxen ore driven about the
streets carry ng guests from house to
bouse, and where it is the custom to so
bounti ully provide for any stranger
that happens to come in on that dav?
t wish I could know, for I never
have seen such a picture of happiness,
con ent and plenty as the Lord led me
to look upon that aTernoon. All these
years I have carried those people near
my heart and prayers that the Lord
would lead me again in the r midst.”
“I was one of the girls at that notable
into ihe necessary explanation to the
surprise and del ght of the now well-to
do, intelligent, demonstrative French
gentleman.
Farmer Draper said the other day as
he met this niece in a railway tran.
“Yes Louise, that young tramp, as we
called him. you know, turned out to be
our own lit tie old maid’s beau after all.
1 hings do happen strangely sometimes.
You mustn’t fail to come to the wedding
Thanksgiving. He has l’urnishe l sat s
facioiy credentials, and Dick has taken
a run up to N ontreal where he is in
bus Hess, and there seems to be no
re son why they shouldn’t be ma ried.
But Jennie and m’t know a word of his
tarnal lingo and I tell her that isn't the
wo-sto )t —I shouldn't want to, for
no w be can do all his scolding in French
an l she can take it all for love sall.es.
—Mrs. Annie A. Preston, in ISpringJicld
(Mass.) Republican
Self-Esteem.
A reasonable amount of self-steem is
necessary to secure a man’s success in
life; and there are few characters into
which it does not enter to a great extent.
We laugh at our neighbors, their foibles
and absurdities exoite our amusement,
because we consider ourselves superior
to like weaknesses. Their troubles cause
us distress; but is not even divine com
passion a form of self-love, or rather,
self-pity? Do we not grieve for others
in proportion as we are able to put our
selves in their place, and picture what
we should feel under the same circum
stances? The reciprocal regard for one
another’s interests, the mutual esteenv,
the exchange of kind offices, which con
stitute friendship, fiud their chief source
too, in self-love. If we have been in
clined to esteem any one ever so highly,
let it be but whispered in our ear that
that same person does not think much of
us, and we immediately find out that
lie is not nearly so charming as we had
imagined, and that his good opinion is
not, after all, worth having. On the
other hand, among our acquaintances
there may be an individual whom we con
s.der but weak-minded and ignorant,
and think, in fact, quite beneath our
notice. Wait a little; it comes to our
knowledge that this same creature whom
we have been despising, has an immense
admiration for us. All our ideas change
directly, and we discover all his hidden
merits; he has at least powers of dis
crimination, and is some judge of char
lacter. We like our neighbors much
more for the virtues they fiud in us than
for any we discover in them, whether we
choose to acknowledge it or not. But it
is perhaps in the passion of love that
the very alcohol of egotism is to be found;
lovers never weary of each others so
ciety so long as they can keep up the in
tensity of mutual admiration; their rete
a-tetes are always interesting, for they
perpetually talk about themselves, and
should their love be crossed, both would
pvol)al)ly rather that the loved one should
be miserable than indifferent. They are
completely ruled by the 6elf that rules
the world.
The Hawk and the Hen.
A Fish-Hawk who had a way of
throwing three cards about in a
ous manner, one dav met a Hen and in
vited her to bet on his game.
“But I don’t understand it.”
“Why, all there is about it, 1 toss
these three cards so, and so, and you
bet that \ou can pick up the Ace of
Spades, for exam >le.”
“1 don t want to take your money,”
protested the Hen.
“ Oh. as to that, you are quite wel
come.”
“Well here’s an X that I pick up the
Ace.”
T he Hawk smiled as he thought hew
easy it was to throw snuff in a Hen s
eyes, but, lo! Biddy picked up the card
she had named and raked in the sugar.
“I 11 be hanged if 1 am not completely
and scouraged trying to make an honest
living!” cried the Hawk, as he flung
down the cards in disgust: and he there
upon not only turned Robber, but ate
the Hen to boot.
MORAL:
Never discourage industry and in
tegrity by taking money from a Three-
Card-Monte man or a Faro Bank.—
Dt trod Free Pres*.
How a Whale Breathes.
The wind-pipe does not, communicate
with the mouth; a hole is, as it were,
bored right through the back of the
head. Engineers would do well to
copy the action of the valve of the
whale’s blow-hole; a more perfect p ece
of structure it is impossible to imagine.
Day and night, asleep or awake, the
whale works his breathing appara ns n
such a manner that not a drop of water
ever gets down into the lungs. Again,
the whale must of necessity stay a
much longer period of time under the
water than seals; this alone might pos
sibly drown him, inasmuch as the lungs
cannot have access to fresh air. W e
find that this difficulty has been antici
pated and obviated by a peculiar reser
voir in the venous system, which reser
voir is situated at the back of the lungs.
Frank Buck-land.
A Plea for Our Servants.
We all know how glad thev are to
rush out on every possible occasion ; are
dissatisfied if they do not get their Sun
days out, even when wet—their even
ings with their friends; and, if not al
lowed to 2:0 out, too often take French
leave and walk out as soon as their
master and mistress’s back is turned.
Of course thi- is very wrong, and such
conduct can not be too stronglv con
demned : but we are inclined to" think
that we do not go the right wav to work
to prevent their acting in this sort of
manner. How few mistresses take the
slightest interest in the : r servants’ wel
fare, their joys or pleasures! If onlv
they do their work proerlv, that is all
they care about. But OHerht they to feel
in this wav with regard to the "inmates
of their houses? We think not: on
the contrary, as far as possible, mis
tresses should endeavor to procure inno
cent and rational recreation for all their
dependents, whether children, governess
or servants. The old proverb about
“all work and no plav making Jack a
dull boy” holds good with young and
old. Men who slave in their counting
houses or their offices from morning
until without a due proportion of
rest, become in time not only dull, but
ill. Children who have not a reasona
ble amount of healthy exercise and mer
ry games are sure to rnooe, and proba
bly will get into mischief; and it is the
same with servants. If they have not a
sufficient amount of recreation, either
their health flags or they too get into
mischief—and mischier of a much more
serious kind. It will be seen, therefore,
that, even from a selfish point of view,
it would be well to take some little in
terest in those around us; and if we
only consider the unhealthy kitchens
and underground premises in which
sevants for the rao-t part live, and the
dreary attics in which they sleep, it, will
be seen how very necessary it must be
to give them opportunities of obtaining
fresh air and exercise, if their bodies
and minds are to be kept in a proper
tare of health.
In the skating season how much they
would enjoy being spared for an hour
or two to go and see the sliding and
skating, or for a brisk walk in the parks;
and in the Summer pleasant walks ami
expeditions ouirht occasionally to be or
ganized for them, and this could eener
ally be done in m ist establishments,with
a little forethought on the mistress’s
part,without deranging the famUv com
fort—for instance, on davs when the
master and mistress are dining out, or
when, from some cause or other, there
is not so much work as usual to be done
in the house. And all this need not en
tail much expense; there are exhibitions
costing a trifle to see; and a visit now
and then to a picture gallery, a museum,
or even a concert, would m ike a pleas
ant change from the daily routine of
cooking, sweeping, and cleaning—or,
in case of nurses, of washing, dressing,
and minding children—and might help
to elevate and educate a class of pe iple
which sadly needs encourag-emenc in
every way to prevent their tailing into
bad and disreputib'e ways.
Small social tea parties canid be ar
ranged without much trouble or ex
pense, and to these brothers and sisters
of the servants might be invited, and
the evenings made cheerful with games,
picture books, illustrated papers, and
the like. How much better would this
be than altogether ignoring that ser
vants have friends and relations, and so
driving them to courses of deceit and to
underhanded proceedings, such as mak
ing signs to attract their friends as soon
as their masters and mistresses are out;
sending letters to their friends as soon
as the mistress has given her orders for
the day, on finding no late dinner is re
quired; slipping off when there seems no
chance of their absence being observed ;
and other practices which gradually
lead giddy girls fr*>m bad to worse, and
from one little deceit to some great
fraud.
Almost all servants in the present day
can read and write, and bright, whole
some stories, light books of travel and
adventures, and biographreal sketches
would be much appreciated by them and
would tend to while away a Sunday at
home, and induce a servant to stay at
home, even when it is their dav out,
should it be wet or unsuitable for hor to
go out. Such b >oks also might prevent
the entrance into private houses of news
papers and publications which would be
far better burnt than read by any one,
and which no modest, well principled
girls should ever be allowed to set eyes
upon. We must expect many a disap
pointment, yet on the whole they will
be found grateful for the kindly thought
-hown them; and such consideiation
for their happiness will often bring thcii
own reward, by inducing servants to
give their services less grudgingiy and
with a more cheerful countenance.—
Rural Neic Yorker.
—A slxteen-year-o'd girl sought &
singular and painful death in Naples in
consequence of disappointed love. While
her parents were out she went into the
cellar, built a circular pyre of straw and
wood, hollow in the center, and then,
stepping into the middle, set it on fire.
When the old people returned they found
fhe charred remains of her half-con
sumed oorpse.
—To protect the ironing-board from
dust, take two paper tiour-sacks, cut
the bottom off from one, and paste this
one to the top of the other to make the
required length; when done sLp this
over the board. The outer covering o?
the boaid need not be taken off afier
using, if this care ‘ aken, and much
time is saved.
SUBSCRIPTIOK-$1.50.
YOL. X. NO. 14.
PERSONAL AND LITERARY.—
“Brick” Pomerov is fifty years old,
and is liv.ng in good style in Denver,
Col.
—Miss Emily Faithful! wifi lecture in
this country this fall and winter on
“Modern Extravagance. ”
—Mrs. G. C. Howard, who has been
the Topsy of “Uncle Tom's Cabin” for
th rty years, is still enact ng that ] art.
-—Wendell Lhillips leads a qivet, re
tired life in his .new house on Common
street, Boston, where he has succeeded
in making his imtned ate surroundings
resemble very closely' those of the old
Esse x street homo.— Boston Post.
—Joseph Perk ns Beach, a son of the
founder of the New York Sun, is en
gaged in preparing a genealogical
record of the Beach family. He has
the names of 2,753 Beaches, descendants
of two brothers who came to this couu
trv in I(‘*39.
—General John Payne, of Warsaw,
Kv., probably is the oldest pensioner on
the United States ) ension rolls. He is
eighty seven years old and has been
drawing a pension for the loss of an arm
in the service ever sin o 1820—sixty
two years.— N. Y. Sun.
—Mr. Corcoran, the venerable Wash
ington banker, is des rows of bringing
the remains of John Howard Payne
from the lonely grave where thev Fe, at
Tunis, and have them placed in Oak
Hill Cemetery, at Georgetown, D. C..
with a monument in honor ot' the author
of “ Home, Sweet Home.” There
seems to be none of his family living to
consent or object to the change in their
resting place.— Washington Post.
—Nora Perry, in her Boston letter to
the Providence Press, says of Maggie
Mitchell: “1 saw her on the street-car
the other day. She had on a black silk
skirt, a brocaded velvet basque, and a
little poke bonnet, with a white lace veil
tied over her lace. At the back of tho
bonnet that brush of light curly hair
that we all know, lluffe l out. When l
fi st looked at her l didn’t realize that
it was Margie Mitchell. 1 had no man
ner of doubt but that it was a girl of
twenty!”
—The Boston Courier in regard to the
modern profusion of frivolous books for
children, declares th t “children are
very apt to acquire the habit of looking
U' on books exactly as they regard their
toys, as mere playthings designed to
minister to their amusement, and this
end being accomplished, to be ihrown
a-dde. This way of looxing at lite. ature
has already too strong a hold upon
American children, influencing not only
their ti eatment of books, but their selec
tion of them.”
The Beginning of a Snccessfnl Life.
How ex-Governor Morgan of New
York began life is thus related by him
self : “ I was seventeen years old, and
was living at home at Washington,
Berkshire County—the same county
in wh ch Williams College is located.
One fine moonlight night in winter my
uncle and ove up f om Hartford and pro
posed that I should go to work for him.
He had a whole-ale and retail grocery
business—principally wholesale—and
the idea pleaded me. The result was I
went. The first year he was to give me
my board and forty dollars, the second
year sixty dollars, the third year seven
ty-five dollars, and the fourth year one
hundred dollars. I hadn’t been there
long before I found the work was pretty
bard, for [ was the only clerk, and I
thought the pay too small. I spoke to
my uncle about it, and he said if I
would stay he would do better by me
than he had originally agreed. He said
he had already told his wife he intended
odo better bv me. I decided to stay,
and at the end of the year I found I had
1 rawn fifty—ix dollars. He told me to
balance mv account and call it square.
I wa-t disappointed, for I had expected
nore lie wanted to know what I pro
posed to do, ana I said I would stay the
-eond year for one hundred dollars.
He said this was too m ich; that he
would give me seventy-five dollars. I
objected, but he fiaally told me if I
would remiin that the next year he
would lake me into partnership and
give me one-third the profits. I accept
ed the offer, and the third year, when I
was a partner, at twenty years of age,
the profits were §6,000, and my share
§2,000. My uncle was considered the
wealthiest man in Hartford. You can
see how times change and how different
are the ideas of wealth to-day; for
when my uncle died I was his executor,
and his estate was only worth $65,000.”
A Lamentable Lot.
The woman who cannot grow old is
jealous of her own children, and keeps
aloof from them. She makes love while
her son is making love. She beams and
lowers her voice and steps out as grace
fully as she can, and she is not unwill
ing that her figure should be compared
with the figure of her son’s lady ac
quaintances. Her morals are irre
proachable. She never did a wrong;
but that is not the fault of her dear, gar
rulous husband, who never knew how to
make love to her. She wishes that
some young fellow would make love to
her, but she seldom finds him. When
vhe does, her simpering folly calls
blushes to the cheeks o i her children,
while the young m hmaughs at her.
—The London limes thinks that
Howells is the greatest novelist that
America has ever produced, and ex
presses the opinion that th re are few
more perfect stories than the “Lady of
the Aroostook.”
- To ck an willow furniture use salt
and water; apply with a coarse brush
and dry thoroughly.— Chicago News.