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8 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.