Newspaper Page Text
VOLi IV.
The life Brigade.
Minnie Mackay.
oh Wild ars the mountainous billows
That break on the rooky s.hore,
Wildly whistles the •tqntwtt’ind
Through ereviye, . window, and
fdoor
Down in relentless lory
Falls n torrent of ley rain,
And, black with its wrath, the tern
„ [pest ,
Hides o’er the rolling main.
i Hark! ’mid the strife of waters
A shrill despairing cry,
As of some drowning sailor
In bis last agony!
Anothci! and now are m'ngled
Heart-rending shrieks for aid
Lo! a sinking ship; What bo I
U'O'ise,
Arouse the Life Brigade,
They come with hurrying footsteps;
No need for a second call;
They are broad awake and ready,
And willing one and all.
Not a hand among them trembles,
Each tread is firm and free,
Not one man’s spirit falters
111 the face of the awful sea.
Yet well may llie bravest sailor
Shrink back appalled to-night.
From that army of massive, breakers
With their foam crests gleaming
[while.
Those beautiful, terrible breakers,
Waiting to smitqh their prey,
And bury von hapless vessel
’Neath a monument of spray !
But rugged, and strong, and cheery
Dauntless and undismayed.
Are the weather-beaten heroes
Os the gallant Life Brigade.
“To the rescue!” shouts their leader
Nor pauses for reply—
A plunge!—and Hie great waves
bear him
Away lo do or die.
'The whole night long, unwearied,
They battle with wind and sea,
All ignorant atql, heedless 4
Os what lliyir end may be.
They search the tajfercd rigging,
They climb the quivering mast,
And life after life is rescued
Till the frail ship sinKj at last.
The .thunderous clouds have van
fislied,
And rose-fingered morn awakes,
While over the breast of ocean
The shimmering sunlight breaks;
And the Life Brigade have finish
tail
The work God gave them to do.
Tlieii names are called. "Any mi—
[sing?"’
Mournful the answer, —“Two!”
• Two of the best and brav- st
Have been dragged by the cruel
[waves
Down-to the depths unmeasured
’Mid thousands of sailor graves!
Two lives are given for many,
And the tears of sorrow shed,
Should be tears of joy and glory
For the grandeur of the dead!
She Won the Fight.
Mattie bad a fiery temper, but
that,Klip, ber worst .fault* When
she married Marsh Hunter, p-opl;
said :
‘•She’ll makg Ids lifea warm bus
iness for 1 irn.”
~ B.tu MaUie.l bought differently.
‘l’ll show them what a triumph
Jove will work. I’ll teach them I
am not the vixen T s!vni.’
And so she married him —the wed j
ding was a very pleasant affair
something lo look back to as long
as they lived. Mattie looked very
6weet in her new white Swiss. Her
long, jetty curls trembled and
shone in the, brilliant light, her
eyes sparkled like twin stars, and
her soft cheeks were mantled in
softer blushes as "she leaned trust
ingly on the strong aj oi of lhe stal
wart man who was to he her guard
and guide through lffe.
The honey moot) was rich with
tile pleasures of hew married life to
the humble pair, hut the time soon
came when the bride must leave
the old roof-trie for the untried re
alities of n home ol her own. Th’s
was the first sorrow—the trial of
leaving home and mother—but it
was fleeting, for in thee xcitementot
‘‘setting-up” housekeeping in the
white cottage on Squire Blackburn’s
farm the liu,le sorrow was drowned.
It was very funny, ar.d Mr.
Marsh laughed and Mattie laughed,
when just they two sat down lo the
little, new table and ate the viands :
prepared by MaUie’s own hands.
Everything was new and strange- ;
ly sweet. Everything went on so
nicely, and Mattie was triumphant
lint all things earthly must change.
The weather grew warn and the
kitchen ho,t.,,and one of the hottest
days of the season she had the head
ache, and the supper must be ready ,
Walker County Messenger.
at five o’clock. Mattie tried to get
it ready, hut burned her wrist; then
she burned ber bread, Then she
looked at the clock, and saw that
it had stopped, and looking out of
the door she saw Marsh. • -
‘lh supper ready?!,be asked, nnd
she blurted out something, nnd
they had their first quarrel.
Oh, dear me, the first quarrel.
How sorry it made the poor little
woman.
But Marsh looked sullen, and
went ofi without kissing her. They
never talked the quarrel over, sim
ply beer use they were bolh too
proi.d to broach the subject. After
that quarrels came oftener and ea
sier. They did not mean to quar
rel, but Bomb how angry words
w uld eome up.
After amine a little hoy came to'
their hnttsebi Id, and it seemed for
a month or two a good deal like
he "ell remembered liorey-moon;
but Matties wretched ternuer would
fly to pieces again, and the happi
nee. »i.s spoiled.
‘1 V curious we can’t get along
w' , in.t;t so much quarrelling,' said
Mn.'-I), one winter day.
M. .e I’eU the j ears in her eyes
in a o■ nmer i, and .fierhe.u t softened
towards Marsh, nuJ slu was about
to eon! ss her faij ngp,and ask foi
glv s«, when In continued —
‘i s all your hateful temper, Mat
lie \on know H is.’
That was enough;, and what was
men' ; to lie a reconciliation was
s’ e" another quarrel.
‘Ob, dear me,,H is my wretched
temper—l know it is,’sobbed Mai
ne, after Marsh went out; but he
need’nt have said s<>.’
'll I only wasn’t so blunt,’ said he
with a sigh.
So things went from had to worse
f.iitle mistakes were imagined in
to terrible wrongs.
The Height>or J had their fi l ! of
gossip about else mii.ler, and finally
mie day, when Mpngb was away,
Matt e thought the tiring over.
T am a wretched liti'e nuisance,’
i.e a id mental! ' : ‘1 don’t know
why I am so either, lut I cannot
help it !' she said, despairingly, her
eves filing w h '.ear*. ‘l've a great
mind to tsi;e Neddie and go home,
and Slav there. Mv shame could
>ot be any greater than it is.’
She e'asped the baby close in her
arms; and the tears fell fast on his
curly head.
Her heart seemed bursting within
her, but she wrapped t.he child in
her shawl, and with a quickened
step siie fled the place and hurried
across the snow-covered fields to
her mother’s.
‘What’s the mailer,child ?’nsked
her mol her, as Mattie, pale and
shivering appeared at the do«r.
Don’t a-k me. mother,’sobbed the
wretched Kttle woman.
‘You i.'n’t left home?’
‘Yes, mother forever.’
‘Don’t say that to me. You
shall go back this instant,’ said her
mother, thinking of the scandal
that was suie to follow such a pro
ceeding by her miserable daughter.
‘Ob, don’t mother,’ and Mal.ie
looked the picture of despair.
‘Tell me about it my child,’ said
the mother, melted into tenderness
by the look.
Toen Maltie through her teais.
told her mother nil, a>'d ended with
these pitiful woicls—
‘But. oh, mother, I do love him,
the Inriier of m? en .d I love him
but lie don’t understand me. il he
could but understand me 1’ and
she fell sobbing beside her. mother's
k i i e.
‘]a ime rdv’ve yon, mv child,’
so i 1 y stinking her daughter’s glossy
hair. ‘l’ve passed th'oligh : t all.
and I'll leM you a secret. There h
almost, certui'. lo ne mistakes corn"
tip between husband and wife, and
often words lire spoken that are re
gretted a moment afterwards. But
my child. such a word can do no
harm, if repented of nnd a enn
fe-sion made. ]f you have said
anything lo wound yourhushapd’s
feelings, no matter what be may
have said to you, go and tell him
yoq are sorry, and I know that he
will not only forgive you, but will \
beg.you to forgive him. The hour ;
that follows will he more delight
ful tnan the hour of your wedding j
Let me tell you of a little instance j
in my own life.’
And her mother told of ohe of
LAFAYETTE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING, APRIL T, 1881.
those Tittle family differences that
come up between so rnnny worthy
couples. The story ended so pleas
antly that it soot lied the tempest in
tiie lireast of the heartslci daugh
ter.
After the story was done, Mattie
kneeled, resting her tired head on
her mother’s knee. Her mother
stroked her glossy hair in silence
for a quarter of an hour, hut Mat
tie’s thoughts were busy. Suddenly
she. arose, took her 1 child into her
arms and wrapped it close in, her
stiawl and prepared to go.
‘Where are you going, my child?!
asked her mother.
‘To make my confession,’answer
ed Mattie, through her tears.
‘Heaven bless you my !’• child'
said her mother.
When Marsh Hunter came home
that night a pretty scene met his
view. The fire was burning bright
ly on the hearth, and before it
stood Mattie, dressed in a neat cal
ico wrapper with snowy collar and
cuffs, and a scarlet how of ribbon
at her throat. Baby sat on his pal
let. before the fire , crowing lustily,
and heating the floor with a tin
rattle.
Supper was on the tnhle, and the
tea was steaming on tlie hearth.
Marsh was cold, but such a scene
as that warmed him. He went
straight ,tq the pai.'et and com
menced jo. romp with the baby-|
Mattie went and knelt there too, de
termined to n uke her confession,
hut she did not know how-to com
mence. It was very easy to think
bet'ir. hand, hut when the time
e nne she was lost. 1 There, was an
awkward pause; then both spoke at
once:
‘Mattie, I’ve been —’
‘Marsh. I’m sorry— ’
Their eyes met, end each saw
t ii e tenderness in those of the other;
all was now told in an instant.
Both made their confession.
Marsh opened his arms and, Mqtg
lie fell sobbing on his breast., while
baby looked on ir. amazement.
From that hour they were the hap
piest of couples.
Bank Smith's Old Bud.
Nature woiks her own curious!
ways. We find roses in the shadow j
of nesl-mmsi s.and we find a sudden
streak of goodness hidden way
down in the heart of a thorough
villain. Big Hank Smith, of
Devil’s Elbow, was a hardened res
cal. Nature built Idm fora viilia".
She gave him a leering, hang-th-g j
look. She gave Ido the eves of ■ j
tignr. Sim gave lri.ui a mouth t lint
a wolf might have envied. Yon
knew Hank for a villain at tiie fiist
glance and he always seemed as if
he knew you knew it.
It took a good deal to wake un
our camp. The-e were farmers
from Ohio,hrokeu-di wn'radeanien
from Indiana, mechanics from Illi
nois, and two or lh.ee ex preachers
and school mas'er- I'-om New
England, a ml we dido t'm oscle-up”
and slam-hang men into eternity as
thev did up the Gulch, a,wd down
on the Flats. That’s !i,e rea-on
why Big Hank Smith tnmle our
camp Ids hcudqu iters.. llis pro
session was that of n gambler and
it was strongly suspected that hr
was n thief and robber, and sotne
tbiiig worse. Alb-r several bold
robberies ai.d two attempted rntii
di-rs ii our caniti, it, was decided
'lift H nk ino-t We had ni
proofs, yet even-body felt sure he
was ti e guilty man. We expected
a row, tint none ome. He packed
op Id- ns n si" »n s, ence. • |;ii •;
Iris own t me lor it, ai d win e lie
camp was at i oner, l,<> skti|kcd ,
away, going tnwa ds the Flats. He
was only out of sight of camp when '
he met ore of our men who had;
been down ttie trail, arid without j
wind or provocation, he diew Id's 1
bowie-knife and slashed an I cut!
until his victim had a dozen mor
tal wounds. A Chinaman saw the
whole affair from the hushes and
brought us the news, arid so it i
happened cat Big Hank had not i
left our camp over two hours before
he was brought back as. a priso- i
ner.
His victim was still alive, and we
had plenty of proofs for hanging
the murdeier, I j
Dtvil’s Elbow was at last excited. L
Men who wouldn’t shy a stone at a
dog, were now anxious to pul! on 1
the hangman's rope, and Big Hank
Smith had only to look at the pale
and determined faces around him
lo realize that his career was ended,
’l el we diiln t rush things. Every
body was agreed that the man
must hwe a little time to prepare
himself or eternity, and lie was
told that ne should hve till sun
down. Hen plied:
‘"Bah! You arc all a pack of
coyotes, at dis I had free hands,
and a kn ife I could drive vou ail
off the’ldiU”
And now a curious circumstance
occurred. No one had ever stopped
to wonder if Big Hank had father
or mother or otlnr relatives, hut
about mid-afternoon a man came
Idown the gulch from Four Jacks
with a n essage for our prisoner. It
was to the.eff ct that his father, a
.man over 70 years old, was coming
down to see him, and would reach
the Elbow sometime next forenoon
They had not met for twenty yeats,
and the old man had S[ient several
years and a heap of money looking
for his missing son.
Well, sir, that news melted Big
Hank Smith in no time at all. I
was one of the guards over him
and I saw nnd heard ail that, was
said and done. In five minutes
the murderer's countenance lost its
wolfish, brutal look, the hateful
gleam milled out of his eves, and
I couldn't have sworn he was the
same man. He asked for some of
our leaders to come in, nnd when
they wete there he eyplnireri:
‘T killed Pete White, and it’s
proper I shoo'd swii g for it. I
simply vvatiU-d to say thf t my old
dad will he hero to-morrow. God
never made a belter man. I ran
awa v from home years ago. and he’s
round me at last. Fe thinks of
me as an honest, respectable man.
and if lie knew the truth it would
kill him. lie’ll come here, because
there’s no excuse to stop him. n.-id
I’ve got this favor to ark: Being as
yon are going to ba.og trie any how
and being as a few hours cairit help
or hurt either sole. T want the per
formance to come <-ff half an hour
from now. When it’s over give me.
a decent burial on the hill, and then
fix up a si rv lo tell niy old dad.
Tell him I die-1 f fiver, or fill off
the cliff, or war iteridentally ‘-hot. —
anything but (I •• truth. lie’s an
old.man* - His I air if gr tv .m l his
face is wrink!'•’■' • • r l.« ’tf apeak
softly and I i.v ■ ■ h eh'.ills'. <-o -
fidenoe 11 •* ‘ I o'' Mm I mi
1 tin hnlhn ; ■ini '■ i I) nl’l
say tl at I •< g' .! ‘ r, lllift rob.
'onrnii In .rri ra. fit around it
some w .-, for ios..sake:i Dig tvv
grave wl,,!n you will, he’ll kneel
beside ii and offer up a prayer, and
tie’ll have i -as in his eyes as he talks
to you. I ask lids favor and this
oi Iv. ami if von are men you’ll
grant it ”
I tell von it surprised us to see
that hi.rdir dvi in lockdown
that way. and t Ik in that rnnnr.fr,
and if hisirim l ad k.e<ui anvll-i' ■
loss loan «’•■!. d murd, r he would I
have hei-o ;■ i:*ivvl lo walk out <>f j
camri A- 'to 1 ' ’ 1
liang. Camp ' v - ;,r;! i l -."'
Whether legal • t not. Big Hank j
received the promises lie asked for. j
and shortly after 4 o’clock he was ‘
led out and hung by the neck llliii' '
dead. He was a game mao, and
died as he had lived. As the noose
was slipped over his neck he
said.
‘•lris a dog's death? but. I'm to
blame for il Be civil to the old
rjn.n; but tell him anvthiug 'out the
Put;,, (hi head w ith your hang
),.t ,
\y, you think?
w, r. . '• 'r-» o!
of 1. f>’ '
nnd ! H ' |
WO ’ (
ov »' J' <!
Uitn riu '» • * • 1
G wn, • !»'
B ud. nr,'! >t i>
noon ttie Elbow was (h sort A
a man had ttiesand to rermiin .i < * ;
and face the poor old man and lie j
to him ahoiit his boy. When lie !
came down the trail he found tiie I
C! ,inn deserted, hut on the hill sms |
n new-made grave and a sign read- |
ing: |
lIENBY SMITH,
agkd about 36.
F«ll off a b irrel and died soon after.
His lather will find some relics
.down at the Flats.
, Dttrpit free Prern- •
X Mutt of Ability.
John Forrester was very correct
ly r.nmetl, for until a lew days ago,
he had spent his life in the woods.
Several days .-.go he threw aside his
insnl. came to the city, and now
i handles the somewhat lighter rock
!,-.miner. The stotv of John’s
downfall shall he t.rii fly related.
Shortly alter arriving in town he
was attr..cleil by ii sign hearing the
ioM-ripiiot :
“Meals at Al 1 Hours."
Entering the place and meeting
the proprietor, he said—
“ You keep u tavern here, don’t
yon?”
‘ No. I keep a restaurant.”
“I don’t know much shout your
rv w names, but you feed folks here,
don’t, von?”
j' “Yes. sir.”
‘ Wi 11, I want to hoard here three
days, I reckon or until 1 get a job
of some kind. I see your sign
says ‘meals at all hours.’ You don’t
mean that, do you?”
“Certain!v I do. I’ll board you
three days for 53.”
‘ “And. give tue my meals at all
hours?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Here, take the $3 I never set
myself tip as a regular enter, hut I
vvi 1 1 buck agin you for the next
three dll vs. I Drink that I
stand her about *1• .t !o'g. I’’s 11
o'clei h., G <-e M'e something to
’ eat.”
A meal was brought out. and
quickly elippa'clmo; and remarking
that 1 < would be back on time, Mr.
; Fori ester left. Al 12 o'clock be
ci tve back and ale again.
'You net-dn’t si arc at me,” he
Si id lo one of too waiters.
‘ Yon are a regular boarder, are
you?”
“Thn '--g o' if-t one you’ve got.
I ibin'l i'li. , .. n ss annul. I've
cit a e!n "i . v to oil even for
beio in" ii m v a time.”
A' 1 ..I J ’in came b.-n-k and
ven ii i * be t.nng up bis but:
“I’m on liuiv. It’s one o'clock.
Bl'lcg Ine stilhill’ to eat.”
The waiter went away mutleripg
anil, brought n a rather slim
meal
“Look a here." saii'l JchP, 1 don’t
go hark on \ our contract. I reckon
voi did tailor underrate my ability
but I’m ii iimn.”
At two iM-.lock John cante hack
and (mi.-*.a s The proprietor
r me i aol asked I• iill tt'liat he
v aijti r . ,
•I win-1. mv dinner, supper, or
i real I - v j'ist what you area mind
ol Cal I' It.”
'.‘•You Lave nlready'.eaten here
three times In-my.”
“i know trial.”
“Whv do you come ag’ain?”
“Bee list it’s two o'clock.”
“iris t "■ sttp[ier rime.”
“Nn. [Jut it’s two. o’clock lime.”
‘I t understand you. What
e'l it?”
.' tiding m.iy have
,f n t my ability. I
! can . ; o unelerstandiim
ll,t 1 . emv meals at all
i • , p-•:... ' ■■* men nilheree,'
I(I : von 'av ' a.i 'l' .'lllariv.”
I ’
“N, ... ; I " tie regular. It
Whs the Hgm m ' tlnit I was to
1 liim. eatm . • n ni.ur, and lam
.ring In sb . ! i wiv contract if
it |, .evs in“ s i. n. as light as a
g,.n .wn i tine o: . You ate trying
•«. ;. ■ we i n ne hern use I’m from
,~i i . -if). H' rat'ae
ini.i v. i - » s*- me up
ey i .-i i„ *. and I’i.i c'izvtn’ i
. I. 'i, mv liUMius.«
i.,i ii.it
i-'ti r
I 'i ■ , I
I
n
.... 'I
! :•t .-
m t «.- -
.» ■ You r. -
qu - - i . ■ p: e- •*.■» Iy tho
I sa*-.. * pat jot. would in
I ,t ?(.bp( COllfl
v i ■ i jet saw a. mart aho
! until i ».,..(• to Sn,„ ril’d two ones
I eng! g. 4 in battle, so. long as his
I .own dog was baying, the beat of it.
Coaxing Sarah.
•lusti. e Alley had hardly hconopenep
t to legal tnisiness yesterday morning
when a sleigh contuinig seven or ci|h'
( pei-ons troiii hrynng tho eily iiuiils,
drove up to the door n! a popular jus
tice and idled out with un air of busi
ness. Ili> honor was poking of the fire
1 when on old man bcckonJ him into u
• corner and wltbp -red.
• ‘(litaj ib of splicing here for ve! My
> darlcpfciaru.il hero is gsing'to bach to
iha’tiohup there- with die Hue comforter
and then we're g dug out to have some
r oysters."
’ ‘‘Albright.-’ -wits.tho reply, and in iwo
minutes the official was all ready.
The man with tho Blue comforter
peeled hisoveioott, laid aside his hut
and extended his hand to Surah.
“I won’t do it I’ll die first!’ she
i said,'os she shrank away.
“Slid's a little timid,' explained tho
o'd man, while tiie mother rebukingly
observed.
“Sarah, don’t yntAmoke a fool of
1 yourself here. William will make you
a g"od husband."
“And don’t you forgbt ii (‘added Wil
liam. G mie, Sural'.’’
“1 won’t unless we can go to Now
York on a hrid it tower?’ she annpped.
‘ You'd look nice bridle toweling
around New Yoik wiih no belter duds
than you’ve got! si id the mother. ~
“Now, Sarah you s and up and get
married
"Be kooi-fu', mo Imr—don't mak’er
J mad.” warned the old man. ‘Now Sa
rah, if ye ha k out everybody will lass
at us ’
‘F don’t keer, 1 want t> travel.’
‘You shall,' nnwswered Williaui.
‘Where ?’
‘Wiri I go to tho House of Coirection.’
‘Tuin’t fur ’nuff.’
Tho old man beckoned William and
Sarah a-ide an 1 began-
Now, Sarah, W'lliant jist dotes on
: you ’
.('But I wartt a'bridle tower.’
, ‘Yes, but you can’t have one; • The
railroads arc all snowed utiler, and tow
ers have gone out. of fashion anyway.’
‘Then I w nt a diamond ring.’
’ j 'Now don’t say that, Sarah, fur I went
1 i to every sto-c o i last Suturda; ant il ey
j was out of diamond ring-'.’
' j ‘Then 1 want a set of uiink 'ar>,'
i ‘Mink tin s, William. I know v.o'i’d
I buy ’em for her ii* «• seeolwl, lint they
1 liave.gone mil of atyle nnd can't Ve
i lint. Din rah, I'm yet- latino-, baiu’t
t V’
‘Yes, flint.’
‘Atut Fine ofways been tender vvilli
ye?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tlieii he tender with me. I want to
see ye married to William. You can't
haven tower, nor a diamond ring, nor
a set of furs, but I'll buy ye a pair of
new gaiters. William will pay for the
oysters, am! I'll see that inothei- divides
lip tlm dishes and bedding with ye.
Sarah, do you want to see my gray
hairs bowed down?’
‘N-o-o.’
‘Then don’t Hunk out.’
‘Will they be two dollar gaiters?’she
asked.
•Yes.’
.n‘.AiuJ all the oysters that we can
cat?’
, ‘Ye.l, ait yon kin stuff.’
•And n tower next fall, if wheat does
well ?’
‘V e-. ’ *
‘Then 1 guess I wilt. Come, Bill,. I
don’t keer tvve cents for you, but then
L want to oblige my father.’
A Mol tier’s Boy.
; ‘ls tin re n vacant plnce in this
bank which I could fill ?’ was the;
inquiry of« boy, ns with glowing
cheek lie stood before the Presi
dent.
‘There is none,’ vvrs the; reply,
‘Were vou told that you might ob
tain a situation here! Who recom
mended Vim ?
‘No one recommended me,’ was
the nnswer. H'only thought 1
, n ould -ee.'
There-was a straightforwardness
' tu the manlier, nn I o est delornii-
I ration in the countenance of the
I ,<■!, p!ens“d the man of hus
-s, in d imlur-ed liim to continue
ib*. i uviis itioii. He said : ‘Yon
:iiu.-t I,nve friends who could aid j
I v u in a sifiatioi.; hake-you advis-1
<• u p i Diet.i ?’
i quick flush of the drop HI ue
i - (j:i i olliml in tiie ur.detly
ii g u ee of sadness, as lio said,
too g ’i naif musingly,‘My mother
si id t was no use in trying with
■ .nt fri.et ds;’ then, reeollfCtibg liim
si if lie at i-ologized for the inter
rupt»un. and was about to with
draw, when the gentleman detain
' «-d him by asking trim why lie did
not t-l.i' at echo'd another year or
wo in d then et.ter into liusincs
‘I have no lime,’-was the instant
reply,.‘hot.l.study* at home and
NO. 35.
keep up with tlm other toys.’Then
[you have a place »»ln-h<fy•?’ said
■ the interrogator. ‘Why did you
J leave it?’
‘I have not lelt it,’ answered the
hoy quietly. •
‘Yes, hut yon winh to have it.
What is the mutter?’
For an instant the child hesitn
j ted; then lie replied, with a half re
luctant frank ness, ‘I must rio more
for mv mother.
Brave words! talisman of suc
cess anywhere, everywhere. They
sank into the heart of the listener
and recalled the fnrgntton past.
Grasping the hand of the astonish
ed hoy, lie said, with a quivering
voice:
‘Sly good hnv what is your name?
You shall (ill the first vacancy that
occurs in the bank. If, in the
meantime you need a friend, come
tonic. Hut give me your confi
dence. Why do you wish to do
more for your mother?’
Tears filled the boy’s eyes as he
replied ;
‘Sly father is dead, and my si--
lers and brothers are dead, and
mother anil I are left to help each
other, hut she is not strong, and I
want to take care of her. It will
please her that you have beer so
I kind,and I atn much obliged to
yo j.’
So saying ‘the hoy left, little
drenmmgtlia-t his own nobleness of
of character had been a bright
g'nnce of sunshine to the busy
world lie had so tremblingly en
tered.
Fooling a Magician.
A few days since in one of tho
eastern owns of tins State, a
trnvelin s'eight of hand performer
made I.is appearance. Mountingn
box In | meeedtd to show liis vari
ous magical performances. Finally
lie told I is large audience that lie
would do a difficult thing, in rnnkin
•i silver dollar, which lay on-llie
palm a!' ins open. hand, instantly
I pass into (lie ; ocket of a spectator.
I lie mouths of his auditors gaped
wider than before, and' with eyes
fixed on him they heard the nragic
•presto, cliangi!' Then the'per
former called out to a rlarKoy ft Hid
ing on the outside of the crowd,
bidding him ‘produce that dollar.’
In a second the darkey went- up
and holding a quantity of.small
change in his hand, said,' “Ileali.
boss, is eighty cents; I spent 20
ci tils of flat dollar you gin me for
a cigar and two shorts.”
Never was there a ‘‘deader give
away,” and amid the yells of the
crowd the sleight-of-hard mar
stepped trow his box and walked
away. lie had arranged the matter
of the'dollar in the pocket with the
darkey during tho day, hut the
latter could not resist the tempta
tion to take a passing pull at the
currency ere it left his possession.—
Neuburn Afans'and Observer.
Napoleon f. .-aid that agriculture was
the body and soul of tho empire and in
the height of his gl i. v he gave the sub
jeer. his attention and encouragement.
; and established in France a departfne t
I-of agriculture. From the start thus giv
j cn this great art, Franco has become
the riche-t and oru of the most power
ful and prosperous among the people of
5 the earth. Thi.ty nine out of cvety
folly of her population do not spend, ■■ c
] cording to Sir Robert- Peel, spend their
income, but lay something by.
Cupid in a sportive mood:
’Thus ifarry-svho the silence broke;
‘Miss Kate, w hy are you like a tree?'
| IJetmuse, lieeattse—l’m broad,’ she
spoke;
•O, uo; Ijoeatiseyo'.ire woo’d,’ said he
‘Why are you like a tree?’ said she.
* I have a—heart?’ he asked so low.
Her answer made the young men red :
‘Because you sappy, don’t you know.
When Athens was in its glory ns
a s j at of Knowledge not me busi
ness man in seven could write his
name, and professional assassins
usK'd ouly twelve dollars to put an
enontty out of the way. liemembt r
these little things when you read of
i the glory of Athens.
Farmers gather tyhnt they sow.
j While seamstresses sew what they
| gatluer.
The young man of the period is
I one whose career has come to aifu II
! stop.