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THE SOUTHERN WORLD* OCTOBER 15,1884.
Hme Circle.
Prince or pauper, woman or man,
Every creature und v heaven’s blue dome,
Hu a longing in common, nestling clue to each
heart, for
Homo sweet home.
Written specially for Southern World.]
BRIGHT WATER.
. BY PALMETTO.
O, bright and beautiful Is the stream,
As it glides gently on like a passing dream;
Now wending its way through valley and plain,
Still onward, and on till It reaches the main.
I list to its voice, so gentle and sweet,
As it dances merrily at my feet;
And It seems to say: •* If ye would be free
Come hither, ye thirsty, and drink of me.
There’s naught so refreshing to man or beast,
Not even the sparkling wine at a feast:
Then come, take a quaff from the brook at your
will,
From the cool, babbling brook that runs by the
mill.
No reeling, no toppling, no mnddled up brains,
With headache and fever and all sorts of pains
Is caused by my use; so, come all and see,
That water is glorious, bright and free.”
Thy k nd Invitation I cannot refuse,
Thy cool, flowing crystal, ah, who could but
choose!
No pulse does it quicken—from pain ever free,
Ob, water! bright water, forever for me!
Yea, others may pledge with wine if they please,
And with wine may strive their thirst to appease
Yet, now and forever my motto shall be,
Bright water for me! Bright water for me!
THROUGH THE WORI.D.
Some hearts go hungering through the world
And never find the love they seek;
Some lips with pride or scorn are curled
To hide the pain they may not speak.
The eye may flash, the mouth may smile,
The voice in gladsome music thrill,
And yet beneath them all the while
The hungry heart be pining still.
These know their doom and walk their way
With level stoos and steadfast eyes,
Nor strive with fate, nor weep nor pray—
While others, not r<o sad nor wise,
Are mocked with phantoms evormore,
And lured by seemlngs of delight,
Fair to the eye, but at the core
Holding but bitter dust and blight.
I see them gaze from wistful eyes,
I mark their sign on fading checks,
I bear them breathe in smothered sighs,
And note the grief that never speaks;
For them no might redresses wrong,
No eye with pity is tin pearled,
0 misconstrued and suffering long,
0 hearts that hunger through the world!
For you does life's dull desert hold
No fountain shade, no dato-grove fair,
No gush of waters clear and cold,
But sandy reaches wide aud bare.
The foot may fall, the soul may fnlnt
And weigh to earth the weary frame,
Yet still ye make no complaint,
And speak no word of grief or blame.
O eager eyes which gaze afar!
O arms which clasp the empty alrl
Not all unmarked your sorrows arc,
Not all unpitted your despair.
Smite patient lips so proudly dumb—
When life’s frail tent at last Is furled
Your glorious recompense shall come,
O hearts that hunger through the world.
a precious package, from which he
helped himself now and then, saying to
his sister in a jubilant whisper:
“ She said we could eat 'em all—every
one—when we get to the Park. What
made her so sweet and good to us ? She
didn't call us ragamuffins, and wasn’t
'fraid to have her dress touch ours; and
she called me * a dear,’ she did. What
made her?”
And Sue whispered back:
“ I guess it’s ’cause she’s beautiful as
well as her clothes—beautiful inside,
you know.”
The gentleman’s ears served him well.
He heard Sue’s whisper, and thought:
Yes, the child is right; the lovely
young girl is beautiful inside—beautiiul
in spirit. She is one of the Lord’s own,
developing in Christian growth. Bless
her!”
When the Park was reached, the five
girls nurried out with laughter and mer
ry talk. Then the gentleman lifted the
little boy in bis arms and carried him
out of the car, across the road and into
the green, sweet smelling Park, the sis
ter, with heart full of gratitude, follow
ing. It was he who paid, for a nice ride
for them in the goat carriage; he ah o
who treated them to oyster soup at the
Park restaurant.
At two o’clock sharp the next day the
two gentlemen, as agreed, met again.
“This is my wife,” the host said,
proudly introducing a comely lady,
“and this,” as a young girl of fifteen
entered the parlor, “is my daughter
Nettie.”
Ah!” thought the guest, as he ex
tended his hand in cordial greeting,
“ this is the dear girl whom I met yes
terday in the street car. I don’t won
der her father calls her a darling. She
is a darling, and no mistake, bless her.”
Tbe Healtbfulnees of Bflrtb,
In an old medical work of a bygpne
generation, I find a number of instances
given by really wonderful cures by mirth
or by hearty laughter. Two or three of
them I will select and repeat.
It is recorded of the great Erasmus
that once, when he was suffering from a
virulent internal abscess, which none
Park for a spring picnic. They seemed
very happy and amiable, until the car
again stopped, this time letting in a pale
faced girl of about eleven and a sick boy
of four. These children were shabbily
dressed, and upon their faces there were
looks of distress mingled with some ex
pectancy. Were they, too, on their way
to the Park? The gentleman thought
so; so did the group of girls, for he
heard one of them say, with a look of
disdain:
“I suppose those ragamuffins are on
an excursion, too.”
“ I shouldn’t want to leave my door
if I had to look like that. Would you ?”
This from another girl.
“No, indeed! But there is no ac
counting for tastes. I think there ought
to be a special line of cars for the lower
classes.”
All this conversation went on in a low
tone, but the gentleman had heard it.
Had the child, too? He glanced at the
pale face and saw tears glistening in the
eyes. Then he looked at the group of
finely dressed girls, who had moved as
far from the plebian as the limits of the
car would allow. He was angry. He
longed to tell them that they were vain
and heartless, as they drew their costly
trappings closer about them, as if fear
ful of contact with poverty’s children.
Just then an exclamation—“ Why,
there is Nettie! Wonder where she is
going?”—caused him to look out upon
the corner where a sweet faced young
girl stood beckoning to the car driver.
When she entered the car she was
warmly greeted by the five, and they
made room for her beside them. They
were profuse in their exclamations and
questions.
“ Where are you going?” asked one.
“Oh, what lovely flowers! Who are
they for?” questioned another.
“I’m on my way to Belle Clark’s.
She’s sick, you know, and the flowers
are for her.”
She answered both questions at once,
and then, glancing toward the door of
the car, she saw the pale girl looking
wistfully at her. She smiled at the
child, a tender look beaming fr. m her
beautiful eyes; and then, forgetting that
she, too, wore a handsome velvet skirt, , , . ....
and costly locket, and that her shapely d, ’ ed t0 °P er , ate "f 011 ' »■>« which was
hands were covered with well fitting endaIl *’ ena f la f l e ' h® hold of a
his teeth, and actually stamped his foot,
as he had seen his master do when in
wrath.' Then he tried to spit out the
horrid taste, but it seemed worse and
worse. Anon the climax came. He stood
up, his eyes flashed, he grasped the
goblet by its slender stock with all his
might, shut his teeth, and then, with a
spiteful, vengeful snap, he hurled itwith
mad fury upon the floor, and seemed en
tirely satisfied as he saw the thousand
glittering pieces flying about.
Never before had the sick man seen
anything equal to it. The whole scene,
and all the circumstances—everything
about it, appeared to him so supremely
and comically ludicrous, that he burst
into a fit of laughter that lasted until
his nurse came in to see what was the
matter. And when he tried to tell her
he laughed again, more heartily, if pos
sible, than before, laughed until he sank
back in a profuse perspiration. The
nurse anxiously sponged and wiped his
weeping skin; he laughed again, until
he slept; and when he awoke, the reac
tion had come, the fever had been broken,
and he was on the sure road to conva
lescence.
Written especially for the Southern World.]
The Toilet.
BY SARA B. ROSE.
“A Darling;.”
BY EARNEST GILMORE.
Two gentlemen, friends who had been
parted for years, met in a crowded city
thoroughfare. The one who lived in the
city was on his way to meet a pressing
business engagement. After a few ex
pressions of delight, he said:
“Well, I’m off. I’m sorry, but it
can’t be helped. I will look for you to
morrow at dinner. Remember, two
o’clock sharp. I’m anxious for you to
see my wife and child.”
“ Only one child?” asked the other.
“Onlyone,” came the answer, ten
derly—” a daughter. She’s a darling, I
do assure you.”
And then they parted, the stranger in
the city getting into a street car bound
for tbe Park, whither he desired to go.
After a block or two, a group of five
girls entered the car; they were all
young, and evidently belonged to fami
lies of wealth and culture—that is, in
tellectual culture—as they conversed
well. Each carried a very elaborately
decorated lunch basket; each was at-
gloves, she left her seat and crossed over
to the little ones. She laid one hand
caressingly on the boy’s thin cheek as
she asked interestedly of his sister:
“The little boy is sick, is he not?
And he is your brother, I am sure; he
clings so to you.”
It seemed hard for the girl to answer,
but finally she said:
“Yes, miss; he iB sick. Freddy never
has been well. Yes, miss; he is my
brother. We’re goin’ to the Park to see
if 'twon’t make Freddy better.”
“ I am glad you are going,” the young
girl replied, in a low voice, meant for
no one’s ears except those of the child
addressed. “ I leel sure it will do him
good; it is lovely there, with the spring
flowers all in bloom. But where is your
lunch? You ought to have a lunch af
ter so long a drive.”
Over the little girl’s face came a flush.
“Yes, miss, mebbe we ought to, for
Freddy’s sake; but, you see, we didn’t
have any lunch to bring. Tim—he’s
our brother—he saved these pennies
purpose so as Freddy could ride to the
Park aud back. I guess mebbe Fred
dy’il forget about bein’ hungry when he
gets to the beautiful Park.”
Were there tears in the lovely girl’s
eyes as she listened? Yes, there cer
tainly weie; and very scon she asked
the girl where they lived, and wrote the
address down in a tablet, which she took
from a beaded bag upon her arm.
After riding a few blocks the prt tty
girl left the car, but she had not left the
little ones comfortless. Half the bou
quet of violets and hyacinths was clasp
ed in the sister’s hand, while the sick
tired in a very becoming spring suit. ^
Doubtless they, too, were going to the j boy, with radiant faoe, held in his hand | abomination and chagrin. He ground
satire by Reuchlier and Van Hutton,
and, upon reading it, burst into such a
fit of laughter, that the impostbume was
broken, and his health quickly restored.
In a singular treatise on laughter, Jou-
bert gives an instance that is of itself
laughable enough. A patient being low
with fever, and the physician in attend
ance being at a loss as how he should
produce a reaction, had ordered a dose
of rhubarb, but after the medicine had
been prepared, fearing its debilitating
effect, the order was countermanded.
Not long thereafter, a pet monkey be
longing to the patient, that had been in
the room all the while, seeing the goblet
in which the nurse had prepared the re
jected medicine still standing on the
table, slipped slyly up, took it in his
hands, and touched it to his lips. The
first taste was probably novel, and he
made a comical grimace, but he disliked
to give it up. Another sip, and he dis
liked to give it up. Another sip, and he
got the Bweet of the syrup. Aha 1 His
grotesque visage brightened. He cast a
furtive glance around, «nd then sat
quietly down, with the goblet grasped
firmly; and pretty soon he had placed it
to his lips and drank to the dregs. Per
haps there had been half a wine glass
full of syrup of manna—no more—while
the rhubarb had all settled. But he had
found it, and before he had fully realized
the change of taste he had swallowed
nearly the whole of the nauseous dose.
Mercy 1 What a face he made over it!
The sick man was spell-bound. Never
in his life had he seen anything so gro
tesque and ridicuously human! The
visage of the disgusted monkey was a
study. It waa a whole volume of utter
IY.
Many peqple when they perceive the
first silver thread among the gold, adopt
almost deperate measures to hide what
they think of as the encroachment of
time, but which may be the result of far
different causes. Pulling out the gray
hairs is a very silly plan, for the injury
done often causes more than two gray
hairs to come in the place of the first.
And in truth gray hairs are honorable
and equally handsome as black, and
dyed hair is always noticeable; but still
we give a recipe for what is called a safe
hair dye: 1 drachm of sap green and 2
drachms nitrate of silver dissolved in 2
ounces hot water, apply with a sponge
being very careful not to touch the skin
or fingers. This will not color the new
growth, and therefore, must be repeated
often.
A lead comb used in dressing the hair
will darken very light hair.
A curling fluid for the hair is as fol
low : 1>£ pints of pure rain water, 1%
ounces of alcohol, ounce of glycerine,
one ounce of ammonia water, one
ounce of spirit of rose, half dram of
powdered cochineal, 1 dram of carbo
nate of potash. These are kept for a
week shaking frequently; strain the
liquid and bottle for use, dampen the
hair, and as it dries the hair is drawn
into curls. But it is better to use curl
papers in the usual way.
Written specially for tbe Southern World. |
Recipes.
Cherry or Berry Tarts.—Line your
baking tin with puff paste, and strew
fresh fruit within until the dish is filled.
Fill all interstices with powdered sugar,
dredge a little flour over the tops two
crusts.
Lemon Tarts.—Take one cup of sugar,
two lemons, all the juice and one teas
poon of grated peel, one half teaspoon
ful corn starch dissolved in a little cold
water and a dozen raisins cut in two and
seeded; bake in two crusts of puff paste.
Jam or Jelly Tarts.—Line your dish
with puff paste, fill with any kind of
jam or jelly; cut long, narrow strips of
thin paBte to lay over the top evenly in
one direction, leaving a space of half an
inch between each strip. Then lay
strips in the other directions making an
even network for a top crust; bake just
done, no more. S. B. R-
it s «■ —
The difference between love and law
is this—in love the attachment precedes
the declaration; in law the declaration
precedes the attachment.
Useful talk—a penstalk.