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THE CHILDREN’S COLUMN.
CSood for Evil.
A little boy in public school had often
been laughed at on account of his mean
clothes by another boy older and richer
than hi ft) self. Tisrs grieved the little boy
much* and he was afraid to venture on the
play ground at all from tear of the bad boy
who so roughly treated him; and so he
would go away alone, and spend his play
time in reading or learning his lessons.
* On one day he had been so employed,
when he heard the larger boy say in tones
of distress:
“ I have learned the wrong history les
son, and now I shall be sure to lose my
place, for I have left my book at home, and
there will be no time to go after it, and
learn my lesson too, before the class is
called. What shall I do?”
Most of his class mates only laughed, for
they were envious of him for keeping at
the head so long, and they rejoiced at the
prospect of displacing him.
Not so with Edward, the little boy he
had so misused. Edward felt and acted
just as he would have desired another to do
towards him under similar circumstances;
and so going up to the larger boy, he said:
“Here, Ilenry, is my book; you are
welcome to use it as long as you wish, and
I will held you about your lesson if I can.”
Was not this a noble boy 1 And did he
not beautifully exemplify the precept laid
down in God’s own Word: “If thine ene
my hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him
drink : for in so doing thou shalt heap coals
of fire on his head! ”
The True Test.
BY MRS. M. A. M’CRIMMON.
“ Oh, mother,” said Willie Moreton, “ I
love you so much —better than anything in
the world.”
“Do you, darling 1 ” his mother asked,
kissing his forehead.
“ Yes, mother,” he replied, returning the
kiss;, “and I think I love you much better
than Emma, for I am sure I kiss you often
er than she does.”
“ Well, dear,” returned Mrs. Moreton,
“if you love me so very much, be so kind
as to keep still now, for I have some letters
to write, and, besides, my head aches a
little.”
“That I will,” said Willie, dancing away
to where his sister was busy with her les
son, Very soon he and Emma got into a
discussion about a picture of some birds,
which was in Emma’s book. Their talk
about the picture soon became animated,;
when Willie, forgetful of his mother’s re-1
quest, made a good deal of noise, and could j
hardly restrain himself even after his moth, j
er reminded him of his professions of love, |
and of his promise to be silent. At length, {
careless about interrupting his mother, whoj
was absorbed in writing, he exclaimed :
“ I’ll go and ask mother. She knows a
great deal better than we do.”
“Stop, Willie,” said Emma; “don’t
now. Mother requested you not to disturb
her while she was writing.”
“ But it won’t trouble her much to ask
her just one question,” Wiilie persisted.
“ You told her a while ago that you loved
her better than .1 did,” said Emma, rather
sadly; “ but lam sure I love her well
enough not to want to trouble her at ally
“ That is the true test,” said Mrs. More
ton, coining in at the moment. “ Christ
says, *if ye love me, keep my command
ments ; and the child that loves its mother
best will always render her the most prompt
obedience, and try the hardest to please
her. Actions are better tests of love than
kisses.”*
Willie said nothing; but after seven
days of prompt obedience and continued
efforts to please his mother, he one evening
whispered in hor ear :
“ Mother, don’t 1 show my love by arfiong
now ? ” llis mother kissed him, and said
lie did, which made Willie very happy.
And if my young readers would be hap
py all the while, let them do all they can to
please their parents, and obey them in
whatever they desire.
Very Hard.
“ It’s very hard to have nothing to eat
but porridge, when others have every sort
of dainty,” muttered Charlie, as ho sat with
his wooden bowl before him.
* It’s very hard to have to get up so ear
ly on these bitter cold mornings, and work
hard all day, when others can enjoy them
selves without an hour of labor !”
“ * t>s v ?ry hard to have to trudge along
through the snow, while others roll about
in their coaches * ”
“it's a great blessing- said his g, ? id
mother, as she sat at her knitting, it's a
great blessing to have food, when so many *
are hungry; to have a roof over one’s l
head, when so many are homeless; it’s a'
great blessing to have sight, and hearing,
and strength for daily labor, when so many
are blind, deaf, or suffering 1”
“ Wlqr, grandmother, you seem to think!
SB BAHHBK JIHB BAS’****.
that nothing is hard,” said the boy, still in
a grumbling tone.
“ No, Charlie, there is one thing that I
think very hard.”
“What’s that?” cried Charlie, who
thought that at last his grandmother had
found some eanse for complaint.
“ Why, boy, I think that heart is very
hard, that is not thankful for so many biess
ingS ! ”
THE SOLDIERS’ IjOLUMN.
[We venture to say there are few moth
ers whose heart will not swell responsive
to the tender sentiments expressed in the
following lyric:]
A Mother’s Prayer.
Father! in the battle-fray,
Shelter Ms dear head, I pray,
Nerve his yonng arm with the might
Of Justice, Liberty and Right.
Where the red hail deadliest falls,
Where stern duty loudly calls,
Where the strife is fierce and wild,
Father! guard, oh, guard my child 1
Where the foe rash swift and strong,
Madly striving for the wrong;
Where the clashing arms men wield
Ring above the battle-field;
Where the stifling air is hot
With bursting shell and whistling shot—
Father! to my boy's brave breast
Let no treacherous blade be pressed.
Father! if my woman’s heart—
Frail and weak in every part—
Wanders from Thy mercy’s seat,
After those dear roving feet,
Let Thy tender, pitying grace
Every selfish thought erase;
If this mother-fove be wrong—
Pardon, bless, and make me strong.
For when silent shades of night
Shut the bright world from my sight—
When around the cheerful fire
Gather brothers, sisters, sire—
There I miss my boy’s bright face
From his old familiar place;
And my sad heart wanders back
To tented field and bivouac.
Often in my troubled sleCp—
Waking, wearily to weep,
Often dreaming he is near,
Calming every anxious fear—
Often startled by the flash
Of hostile swords that meet and clash,
Till the cannon’s smoke and roar
Hide him from my eyes once more!
Thus I dream, and hope and pray
And the weary hours away!
But I know his cause is just,
And I centre all my trust
In Thy promise: “As thy day
So shall thy strength be !—alway! ”
Yet I need Thy guidance still;
Father! let me do Thy will.
If new sorrow should befall—
If my noble boy should fail !—
If the bright head I have blessed
On the cold earth find its rest;
Still, with all the mother’s heart
Torn and quivering with the smart,
I yield him, ’neath thy chastening rod,
To his Country and his God!
j Temperance among Soldiers.
It was at one time generally believed
j that the use of alcoholic liquors was posi-
I tively necessary and beneficial to all men,
j and especially to soldiers and sailors on ac
\ tive duty. Physicians recommended such
; beverages, and regular daily rations of rum
! were provided in all armies and navies.—
| These notions are still entertained by many
persons, and very generally there is a want
of correct information on the subject. It
is very common for soldiers of all classes
to indulge in the use of alcoholic bevera
ges. A few words of advice on this topic
may be of great benefit to them.
By close observation and many experi
ments, it has been found that the tissues
and blood of drunkards, as well as those
who continually tipple in beer and whisky,
but do not get drunk, are generally in a
state of degeneration. Alcohol passes into
the blood and retards the elimination of
waste and injurious matter from the body,
and thus it tends to produce disease, espe
cially fever. French physicians have de
termined that the blood of a man who
drinks a pint of brandy per day is never
free from alcohol, and they assert that its
presence in the blood exerts a most preju
dicial effect upon nutrition. A man in or
dinary health, they assert, requires no alco
hol : it is only useful in a medicinal sense,
taken in moderate doses.
It was long supposed by the British phy
sicians that spirituous liquors imparted to
soldiers in India a pqwer to resist the de
pressing influence of a tropica! climate;
hence it was a regular practice to provide
each soldier with a ration of spirituous li
quor before partaking of breakfast. This
custom led to the demoralization of the ar
my by affording a temptation to general
drunkenness, which led to the increase of
crime and disease. This has resulted in
the abolition of the spirit rations in the en
tire Indian army, with a manifest improve
ment in the health and moral* of the sol
diers. An experienced Indian medical offi
cer states that the use of spirits in warm
climates tends to make men furious and
produce delirium tremens, and he recom
mends the total absence of wines and spir
its in the army. Col. Dawes, of the Ben
gal Artillery, states that bis experience in
India has led Mm to see into the terrible
evils of the use of spirituous liquors among
soldiers, even in moderate quantities. He
has witnessed the best men become useless
from an indulgence in liquor; while, on the
other hand, he has seen idea of bad charae
ters converted into able-bodied, hard-work
ing, courageous soldiers by abstaining from
drinking spirits. When the thirteenth reg
iment of Light Infantry was beleaguered in
Jellalabad for five months, during which
they could obtain no spirituous liquors,
they were remarkably cheerful and healthy,
and behaved with great courage and
good temper. After the garrison was
relieved, they then obtained plenty of
liquor, and the result was much insubordi
nation and disease. Major General Wylie,
of the Bombay army, testifies that when
the soldiers were quartered in districts
where no spirituous liquor could be obtain
ed, no crimes were committed, their health
was good, and discipline admirable; but
whenever they obtained and were supplied
with a great deal of spirits, ill conduct and
disease prevailed to a frightful extent.
HOUSE KEEPERS’ COLUMN.
Sweet Potato Coffee.
Avery good substitute for coffee can be
made from sweet potatoes. Wash and
scrape good sound tubers; cut them into
pieces half an inch long; dry them in the
stove; roast them as you would coffee, un
til of a light brown color. Make “ coffee ’’
from them in the usual manner,'except that
the pieces are not to be ground.
Baked Dumplings.
Prepare the dumplings as for boiling,
and bake them in the oven until well done.
For sauce, brown some butter, stir in a lit
tle flour and water according to the quanti
ty needed; sweeten it and flavor with wine
and lemon, or spice if liked. M%fce a small
opening in each dumpling, pour in a spoon
ful or two of the sauce, and serve while
warm.
To Clean Tripe.
As soon as the fecal matter is emptied
out, put into the stomach about one quart
of air-slacked lime, add two gallons water,
warm or cold ; then sew it together.—
Work and shake it for about a minute or
two; empty the mixture out, and it can
then be cleaned with a knife and water in a
few minutes.
Sour Milk Cheese.
Heat sour, or loppered milk (which is
better), in an iron pot over a slow fire, un
til curd is formed. Take out the curd and
press the whey fron it with a ladle or the
hands. To each quart of curd add one
half pint of sweet cream, a lump of butter
the size of an egg, and salt to the taste. —
Place all the ingredients in a frying pan
over a slow fire, and stir until it assumes a
smooth, thick consistence, when it will be
ready for the table, either warm or cold. —
[Some housekeepers place the curd in a
strainer bag and allow the whey to drip
out, before adding the cream, etc. The
second heating appears to be an improve
ment.— Ed.]
To Save Pork.
Mr. John H. Taylor gives, through the
Columbus Enquirer , the following recipe
for saving pork in an economical manner.
He says several gentlemen have successful
ly practiced it the past year in Harris
county r
“To five gallons of water add seven
pounds of salt, one pint of syrup, and one
teaspoonful of pounded saltpetre. After
the pork is cooled in the usual way, pack
in barrels, and cover with the above mix
ture —let it remain four or five weeks, and
hang and smoke in the usual manner.”
Thus twenty pounds of salt are made to
save one thousand pounds of pork.
Useful to Housekeepers.
Recent experiments in more than one
family in this city established the fact that,
the plant commonly known as “ water pep
per,” or “ smart-weed,” which may now be
found in abundance along our ditches, roads,
lanes and barnyards, is an effectual mid cer
tain destroyer of the bed bug. A strong
decoction is made of the herb, and the pla
ces invested with the insect washed thor
oughly with it. The plant may also, with
much advantage, be stuffed in thi cracks
and corners of the room. Elderberry
leaves laid upon the shelves of a safe or
cupboard will also drive away roaches and
ants, while the common house fly will not
venture in smelling distance of them.—
These simple remedies should be extensive
ly used. [Petersburg Express.
To f e Cottm or Wool Brown,
A lady friend scuds us the following re
cipe for dyeing cotton or wool brown;
Take the bark of a root of a common
wild plum—boll in iron or brass, as most
convenient, until the dye looks almost
black, Strain, and add a small quantity of
dye. Add the article to be dyed. Boil an
hour or so. Wring out and dip in strong
cold ley. When dry, rinse in cold water.
This gives a genuine, bright brown, which
is the prettiest contrast for blue; and when
checked in together makes a dress becom
ing enough for the proudest Southern dame
or belle. Ladies, try it.
MISCELLANY.
Tell your Wire.
Yes, the only way is, to tell your wife
just how you stand. Show her your bal
ance-sheet. Let her look over the items.
You think it will hurt your feelings. No,
it will not do any such thing. She has been
taught to believe that money was with you,
just as little boys think it is with their far
thers—terribly hard to be reached, yet in
exhaustible. She has had her suspicions
already. She has guessed you were not so
prosperous as you talked. But you have
so befogged your money affairs that she,
poor thing ! knows nothing about* them. —
Tell it right out to her, that you are living
outside of your income. Take her into
partnership, and I’ll warrant you’ll never
regret it. There may be a slight shower
ac first, but that’s natural.
Let her see your estimate; when you
come home again she will show you that
you have put her bills too high. True, she
had rather a costly bonnet last winter, but
it is “just as good as ever; a few dimes
will provide it with new strings, and refit it
a little—the shape, she says, is almost ex
actly as they wear them now.” And you
will be surprised to see how much less ex
pensive she can make your own wardrobe.
She will surprise you with anew vest —not
exactly familiar, somehow, looking as if in
another shape you had seen it before —yet
new as a vest, and scarcely costing a dollar,
where you had allowed five. Old cravat 9
will experience a renovation in her hands,
coming out so rejuvenated, that nobody but
those who are let into the secret would sus
pect that they are old friends in new shapes.
The dressing gown that you were going to
buy—out of what forgotten chest she has
gathered the materials you can not imagine
—but there it is, comfortable and warm,
and just the thing that you wanted for the
long winter evenings that are coming on as
fast as the almanac will let them.
You will find a wonderful change in her
tastes and appetites. Whereas, she always
fancied what was a little out of season, or
just coming into market—now if beef is
dear, she thinks boiled mutton is delightful
—as tender as chicken. If lamb rises, and
fish are plenty, she thinks a “ striped bass,
or a fried sole good occasionally.”
Before you have thought much about it,
you will find yourself spending most of your
evenings at home—and such evenings, too,
so full of domestic enjoyment and fireside
pleasures, that you will look with wonder
on the record of last year’s expenses, and
marvel that you found time or relish for
the costly entertainments that so seriously
taxed your pocket. If, like too many, your
outgoes threaten to exceed your incomes,
be sure and tell your wife of it. Not in a
tone or manner that will lead her to think
you don’t want her to buy what is really
necessary for winter, but just as if you
wanted a counsellor in the day of your
trouble. And if she does not come up,
heart and soul, and most successfully, to
your relifef, put me down for no prophet.
Merer Alone.
An old man sat in his easy chair. He
was alone. His eyes were so dim that he
could not read the printed page; he had
long ceased to hear any common sound,
and it was only in broken whispers that he
could hold communion with those around,
and often hours passed by in which the si
lence of his thoughts was not broken by an
outward voice. He had outlived his gen
eration ; one by one the companions of
boyhood and youth had been laid in the
grave, until none remained of all those he
had once known and loved. To those to
whom the future is one bright path of hope
and happiness, and social love, how unenvi
able seemed his condition—how cheerless
his days !
I have said he was alone. A gentle and
thoughtful child stole into his silent room
and twined her arm lovingly around bis
neck. - “ I feared you would be lonely, dear
grandfather,” said she, “ and so I came to
sit awhile with you. Are you not very
lonely here, with no one to speak to or to
love!”
The old man paused for a moment, and
laid his hand upon the head of the gentle
child.
“1 am never alone, my child,” he said.
“ How can I be lonely t for God is with
me; the Comforter comes from rny Fath
er, to dwell in my soul, and my Saviour is
ever near to cheer and instruct me. I sit
at His feet ard learn of Him; and though
pain and sickness often come to warn me
that this earthly house of my tabernacle is
soon to be dissolved, I know that there is
prepared for me a mansion, the glories of
which no tongue can tell, no heart conceive.
The love of God is like living water to my
soul. Seek' in your youth, this fountain,
my child. Drink deep of its living waters,
and then when your hair shall be whitened
for the grave, when all sources of earthly
enjoyment are taken away, you, too, can
•ay, *1 am never alone.*”
VARIETIES.
Writk to the Soldier. —Persons who
have friends in the army (and who has not?)
should write to them often. Nothing, aside
from the substantial comforts of camp life,
in the form of good clothing and other sim
ilar et ceteras, is so much appreciated by
the toil-worn soldier, as a hearty, cheerful
letter from home. We should set aside
certain days in each week in which to write
to our soldier friends. Any one who has
visited our camps, and witnessed the eager
ness with which the soldier inquires for
letters—how diligently they are read when
received, and how carefully he preserves
those little missives of love and friendship,
can not fail to realize the amount of good
he may do in this respect.
Choir Anecdote. —Somebody ‘gets off’
the following, to wit, namely, viz:
In a certain town in a certain State, there
is a chuich in which the singing had, to use
their own phrase, ‘ run completely down/
It had been led for many years by one of
the deacons, whose voice and musical pow
er. had been gradually failing. One eve
ning, on an occasion of interest, the clergy
man gave out the hymn, which was sung
even worse than usual—the deacon, of
course, leading off. Upon its conclusion
the minister arose and requested the deacon
to repeat the hymn, as he could not consci
entiously pray after such singing. The
deacon very composedly pitched it to an
other tune, and it was again performed, with
manifestly a little improvement on the first
time. The clergyman said no more, but
proceeded with his prayer. He had finish
ed, and taken up the book to give out the
second hymn, when he was interrupted by
the deacon gravely getting up, and saying
in a voice audible to the whole congregation
—“ Will the minister please make another
prayer 1 It will be impossible for me to
sing after such praying as that.”
Cure for Neuralgia. —Some time since
we published a recipe for neuralgia f half a
drachm of sal ammonia in an ounce of
camphor water, to be taken a tea-spoonful
at a dose, repeated several times at inter
vals of five minutes, if the pain be not re
lieved at once.
Several persons have since tried this
recipe, and in every case an immediate
cure was effected. Try this, if you ever
have occasion; and see if the information
given is not m worth more to you than the
subscription price of the paper in which it
is made public.
Little ‘Facts’ not generally Known.
—The schoolmaster who flogs the boy,
feels it a great deal more than the boy he
is flogging; at least the schoolmaster al
ways says so!
Compliments are, most generally, only
prismatic bubbles, blown with the aid of
‘ soft soap/
Women dread a wit as they do a gun ;
they are always afraid lest it should go off
and injure someone.
A friend has suggested to us a recipe for
making blacking, which he says can be re
commended both on account of its cheap
ness and its quality : To a teacup of mo
lasses stir in lampblack until it is black;
then add the white of two eggs, well beat
en, and to this add a pint of vinegar or
whisky, and put in a bottle for use —shake
it before using. The experiment is at least
worth a trial, as the price of ordinary
blacking has so rapidly advanced since the
blockade. A neatly polished boot or shoe
is an ornament to the person of any man or
woman—as much so, indeed, as a clean
shirt bosom or collar.
Scene in Atlanta Market. —“ Mister,
how do you sell your beef this morning?”
“ Why, fifteen cents a pound, take it as it
comes—bone, neck and all; how much will
you have ? ” “ Fifteen eents a pound, eh !
Have you got a heart?” “No, just sold
it.” M Well, I just knowed you couldn’t
have a heart and ax fifteen cents for beef.”
Exit little boy, one ahead.
u A Natiok.”—Hon. Mr. Gladstone, a
member of the English Cabinet, in a recent
speech at Newcastle, said: “We may
have our own opinions about slavery ; we
may be for the South or against the South ;
but there ts no doubt, I think, about this—
Jefferson Davis and other leaders of the
South have made an army; they are ma
king, it appears, a navy • and they have
made what is more’than either, they have
made a nation.”
* Guilty, or not guilty I * said the Judge
to a native of the Emerald Isle. ‘Just as
your honor pleases; it’s not the likes o’ me
to dictate to your honoris worship,’ was
his reply.
There is no one else who has the power
to be, so much your friend, or so much your
enemy, as yourself.
Vol. IY.