ape familg ain't THE JOURNEY. Ah I what is the world, my darling, What is the world to me? For the Angel of Death - was passing, And he whispered low to thee: With a deep and tender accent, And a sweet and winning smile, Hassid, " Wilt thou come , bp yonder, For I stay but a little while 7" And;thy face grew bright in his shadow, Thou hastlonged for the dreary way ; Dot thou think that the path is star-strewn, Mid& with the beauty of day ?, Ahj i 4lhy does thy, bright .eyo kindle When his wings are rustling Wost leave the friends who love thee, For a the dim and far-off sky? " But , ah I" thou wonldst tell me, "off yonder There is One who is loving me more: There lit One who will greet me with welcome, On the distant star•girt shore." God grant it be true, my darling, And Heaven be passing fair ; But the journey is rugged and darksomej. And how wilt thou wander there? 'Tis a dark and a dreary region ,That thy tender feet must tread, And they say that a swollen river Upflows from its gloomy bed: And the Angel of Death is cruel; Full little he careth for thee, Arid-what shalt thou do in the river, If thou, deserted be ?. 11 Bat ah 1" thou would'st tell me,"theriver Flows :T herhy the blessed co ast, And those who are loved by the Master Can never be stranded or loat, Fotito them the light from His presence Shines out o'er the swollen wave, • eternal arms are beneath them,' And they know Him mighty to save." Yes, so it must be, my darling; • od grant that it all'bittine: But on the rough peaks of the mountains What shall the•wanderer • Perchance thou'inVst dabAl;" in the dark;• ".Thy foot against a stone l ','-- The Anger• of Death laughs in scorning, And thou'ari left alone.-f " But, no," thou art saying.full softly, -'5 That never, 0 never could Fri; my Xing has passed over the river,. And He holds out his.hand toward me ; He` will -guide me, and lead me,- and hold And my step it never shall slide, For He who hold's sway o'er the river, Will ever be close at my side." Ahl yes, it is true, my darling ',shall, lead thee dawn to the ;shore : Yet not to the awe/ T give , thee,— TO Rim who has - gime 'befor.e.' I will lift thy . .head from my heart, love, , And knoWit ; ,is clasped to His breast; Thbu art going forth on thy journey, .And the-4)nd there'd is Rest. ' Bi t atewhat is"life, l'fe, "my darling, ng, ;' And what is the world tome? For the King of the 0-ofr country Hath whispered low to thee: And thou lovest His Winning presence, , And the aweetness , of his voice ; Than halt looked on ,the foaming river, And thy heart can still rejoice. • • • York Observer WHAT THE ENGINEER TOLD: lam an engineer. Ever since the road was laid I've traveled over it every, day; or nearly every dey, of My life.: For a good-while I've had the same engine in charge—lthe San Fran cisco the prettiest engine ore4he'road; and as, well managed,, if I say it, as; CA hest: was a southwestern road, running; .say„, from A: to Z. l At A. my, good old pother lived ; at Z. I hAdthe sieptesp little , wife under the sun, and ababy or two ; and I also had del two put by for a rainy day. I *Wen `Odd kind of a man. Being shut: up with the 'engine, watching with all , your eye , vandibeart and kal, inside and ,out; don't make a man talkative:.. • r My- wife's name was Josephine, and Icalled her Jo. Some_people, thought memisopi t able, and couldn't waderetand how a map could feel, friendly,. 71 *th -, - cite sayilm ten words SO an hour, , thdugh I had a few old friends, deer OlieCidO; Thad not as many,acquhint and& Post.people, and did not dare to have. The house that heklcamy wife and _babies wasbthe dearest place; on : earth to .me, except the other house, tbatheldiroyold mother-,pp at ,J.'d, c uever belonged o a club, or, mixed ninelf up with strangers in any such' wft4ait4 neversholild, if it hadn'l been fdr.tfranb:S.' : I ti" - ou. see Granhy ephe'of the shareliolderS,' a hand shdwy liked to talk todhinr; end we were friends: He often' &de' front. T. to A....find "back 'again with pe, ,!arid once he- said: - "You , cut belong to the ,Scientific cI4PJQ3 I 4 I P , " ",Never);Leard. of it," said Mtuaber," said he._ *P, meet once a r , t t i l,i g t and have,a`jolly gAd WA; *a 4ti i lliiddlik.• me* e .you ; We 11,ave spire, amongst:up : E 15. 4, propose y 9,12,4 you ~,,,k wa s fond of such things, and I had ideas lhat fancied might be .worth something. But then 'an engineer don't have too many nights orlidays.to, himself, and.the club would take;one evening a 'fortnight frOM Jet eaid " I'll ask her. 11,she likes, yes." " Ask whom ?" said he. "J 0.," said I. -!".1f ti'itys than had ailted his wife, Ekebr'inia's wife would` "have said, 'spare you, rriy dear,' and we should' have no club at all," said Gran- „.,But I made no answer. At home I told Jo. She said miss you, ; but .you do love such. things, sirA i then, if Mr.,. Granby ; elongs, they 4perior men.” "go doubt," said I. everybody who oind4 be !d i& said - Jo. "Wily; Of Wiese. Yoelinstt ttaj . ytd." utikat.l spaid ,, f 4 oV-Liuid.grariblyriproil posed me. Thursday fortnishilkwent with him to the rooms. !There were some men with brains there, some without. The real business of the evening was the suppet, and so git was every meeting ~ I'd always been a temperate man. I a(tually did not knowithatc)ffeee, wine would have upon me; but coming to drink more of it than I 'eTer had before a,tthe _-tableJ fOund it put the steep on. After so many glaises, I eiialfed to; teak ;!,Lifteig so many-more; - - - - It seemed like somebody else, the words were so ready. My little ideas came outtzandwermelistenellautoosnAmt made sharp hits ; I indulged in repar tee I' told litorieet ;-I even eillriexto puns. - I 'heard scirnebOdY 7:Say Granby, " that man's worth`lcnowinil I thought himdull at first." Yet.,. was ,better to be quiet Ned G - uelden, .with his,ien words an,hour, than the wine-made wit I was. Il was sure. of it.: when, three!, hours' after, 'I stumbled:, up stairs Atohorne tot find Jo. waiting for me, with herbabez on' her breast " You have been deCeiving ,me," said J c .. “ I've suspected'' it; but wasn't sure. < A scientific club couldn't` smell like a bar-room." l " Which means I do," said I, waving in the Middle of the room like &Signal flag at.bAtation, and seeing two JCL And lodk like' one," said Jo.,- and she went' and locked - herself and. the baby in'thespare!bed room. One club night i , as I• was dressed to, go Jo. stood before me. “ Ne4,',said she, a I ; never had p a fault tofind with, you before, I'll sa that. You've been kind, and good, and loVingiallafrs; but I - ShOuld be sorry 4lee ever Met if you are - , tf go on in this'waY. Don't `ask me 'what mean. You know." - "Jo," said I," "it's only on club. nights." : 4. 4 t " It will grow;" 'said -she. Then she put her arm ,about. my neck Ned," said she, °" 'do yob. think a thing so much like a bottled up and strapped-down demon ari: st4itin= is, , is Tit to-be put into the handsiof a drunk en man ? . And , some dayo mark my words, the time will come when. not Only Thursday nights, but allthe days of the week will ti;u:! same ..` l've. • I'Nw) often heard You wonder what,the feel ings* an engineer, who haS about the same as murdered a train full' of pe,O L : ple, must be, know 'if you , don't stop =where you 'are. A)Steady hand and aidear headhave been your blessings all these years. Don't throw them away, Ned. If• you 'don't carer for my love, donit ruin yourself, Ned.7' My little JoI , She spoke from,her heart, andi tienit over her and kiased her. " Don't be ifrdid, child," I said "'PT never'pain you again:" And I meant it, but at twelve' that night 4 felt that had, forgotteu the promise and-my resolution:. I made, X.LAP Y mind , .to sleep , on Ale' club sofa, : and leave the placenext day„, i as „I could not go home to Jo. Already,' I felt illy brain reel as I never hid' before. In anhour I was' in a kind of stupor. It was Mormlit A 'Waiter'''. was readyto brush my oat. I saw a grin on his blaaln. - -facc, My head seemed about to burst ; day hand -trembled. '7,11 looked at my watchi, I,had..- - just five :minutes to reach the olepot. Jo.'s words came iuto my mind. Was i T fit to take charieOf the engine? I was not fit to answer. I ought to haie asked soiite sObEr` man. :A.4: it was, I p nly caught thy hat and rushed away.. I wascjust in time. The' San - Fifinciscc; glittered in the morning sun}' The cars -were filling rapidly. From .my post I could.hear thapeople4alking—biddineeach other good-bye, , promiaing : to, write and to come again. ,App ngs t was 111 k old gentleman I. knew, by J a,ight, , ,one, thushareholderd; he _was, bi,ddyL:g. timid girls . Gotd.hire, good-bye, I bed& Eim say; don't be nervous: The San Franbiseciis - the `safest engine 0n , .. the line, and Gueldett the imost `Careful engineer. I would not be afraid to trust:every mortal I leve.in a catch to their.keeping. Nothing could. loprtiAn ;wrong with the two, tc rgeper." "I'll g9t through it somehow,. and .To. shall never have to talkto me_ again., After ,411 'was easy enoith. I reeled as I SOke rEeird thedignal. - '"' Fiiielionriarbin L. to D.; 'ffve houri 37 .bitige; thei-laitt'llshould be myself again. Ilsaw a -re& flutter, and guessed --what it -was-, -until were past.the flag. I hoard, a shr,ipk, an d dd. we, had passed„ the; down train at a, wrong place.,,,. Two minutes more and we should have hadn collision. Some body told me. I laughed. I heard him say respectfully`: " Of course; lir. Guelden, you knew what-you were about." Thfin I was alone, and wondering whether I should, go slower or, faster. I did something. The cars rushed on at a .fearful rate. The same man who had spoken to me before was standing near me. I heard some question. How many miles an hour were we making? I didn't know. ' Baltic, rattle, rattle! 1-was trying noi to slacken the speed-of • the San Francisco: - could net- remember what I <skould<-da• Was , this, ,or •Eistep,-eonly atoir, •. WAB -playing withAeAngutelike4olol THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY. JULY 12, 1866. Suddenly there was a horrible roar —a crash; I was flung somewhere. It was into the water. By . a miracle:,l was only Sobered, not ti r n‘tv ;;;4 4 , 4 gainal. the shore 4 I stood ,nponjfhe Around between the, track and theverW edge and 40 - tkere taxing atfinarerprk. ~ T O engine was in fragments, the cars &Splinters; dead, and dying, and wounded, were -- strewn - around omen and children—old-age and rltieilder youth. ' ' There were groans and - shrieks-of-despair:---the -maimed-cried „lisk.,ll pain; the unipjured-;Awailtflt their dead ; and a ' . voice, unhefiralby' nystati lla p or i ngo ” MAirderer." s 1 ' The news' hadd'gon back, ..19"A., and ' - pebilTh came 'thronging bark ' 'to find theirfrieildisil Thelletid'iieie.Wtketch ed on thtvgrass. it-went with some of the distracted..to' fintr - their lost ones. Searching for an, old,. man's daughter, I cap t eto t i hk:, .'Eylapf?,gll,,d9r in the trees, unk Hie dying.,bOdiesgtl i lerk All 'their. rigid horror—'an old 'oan, a young `one;.:a baby, and two tinyrchildren. It was fancy-mpure.fancy, born of.my anguish-rrthqy,lopiced, likert-0 1 great Heaven— they were my old mother, my :wife, my. ch4ren ! all cold and dead. HOW - did they come on the train ? What chance had broUght this about ? No one could 'aiisiier. 'I groaned, I screathed, 'I clasped' my bandi, I' tore my hair. I gazed on the good old face of her who had given me birth, on the lovely features of my 'wife, on my innocent childzyn. I called them by. name ; there was no answer. There never, could be—never would be. And as I comprehended` this, onward pp, the track' thundered another'train. Its red eye' glared bit me ; I 'fliing myself before 'it; I felt, it crushing me to atoms ! • " His head 113 so extremely hot," said: soniebOdy. I Opened my eyes and saw my wife; " How "do you: feel ?" she said;:" - a little better,?? . I was so rejoiced.and so.astonished by the, sight, of her, that I could not speak iat first.. She, repeated her, queStion. "I must be crushed to pieces,", t sald'; - eqor - the train . went over me ;, but.T feel no' pain." " There 'he goes about the train again," Said my wife. "why, Ned." I tried:to move there- was nothing the matter with me; I slit- up. I was; infinpown room • oppositeime a crib PA, whichtwo children,,were asleep, beside me, a tiny bald baby-head. My, wife aid, all my chfldren i w,ere safe! M r iil3 I'Aelirous,or caUldlt be? - ' "Jo:," cried (I; "tell - me what 'has happened.' , 4 "lea nine` o'clock," said Jo. " You' came hohia In such' a dreadful state from the club that L.cpuldn't wake you. You weren't fit to manage steam and risk people's lives. The San. - firm ,- :omo is half vray to A I suppoie and you've been frightening me to death with youi t areaiyal talk !" And Jo. began to cry; 1 .. It was a ' dream= only in ' awful dreamt But I= had lived thrOugh it as thmigh it wereireality, " Is there , &Bible: in. the house, Jo ?" said L " AraWe heathens?" asked Jo _ " Give it, to nr i le,this moment,o." She brought it„ anal I Put, m hand on it, and took an oath; too gg9. to repeat 'here---that 'what - had 'happened never should motif again. It 'never has: - And if the -Sail:'`Francikto ever conies-to grief, the Verdict will not be, astir...ought to.* so.oftert—Thetengineer was drunk 1 ~ ,i ; ;r.-1 thick it' a fine thing to be eoniideied polite; and all would be delighted:lo have-so agreeable a titlecapplied to themselves. When, we Nish a ; thing, Ne must first take means to obtain it. Now how shall, we cultivate, true politeness? Not by deebiating the body, practis: uig „ airs and, graces before the niirror bowing elegantly, or sniffing' blandly When ewe meet's:inf. piirticular ' - friends. NOhe bf these. Trueribliteneisiliprings from a' pure, noble, and generous heart. It conaists in loving - our neigh burl, in:being !' kindly affectioned one Gto another , _with br(ShPAY . o .ve; Itonor,preferring one another." Suoh an mstanced s will cite, not only that, a,l nOlge:aat may be approved, th4t thectianiple - maTbe followed. A little girl residing in one of our beautiful toiviis; on 'Onk of her birthday festivals invited tmany of 'hex' friends to lifisit her. -Florence's father was a man: of wealth,- and in his at tractive house and. spacious grounds the little girls pasped a most:delightful afternoon. It was the style there, when there was a party of this kind for all after tea to ferm a procession and walk dOWn the beautifully shaded stieet. Florence, who'gave the party, was unanimously elected queen, 'and of course was to lead off and have the others follow as maids , of honor. It was customary for the queen to select any one she wished to walk by her side, and be her special escort. The little girl thus honored on this occa sion was Florence's particular 'friend Lucy, a,lovely' child of eight short skimmers. She had early ' learned to love her Saviour, and to place thelutp piness ofothwvisefore herawni How -43411r, She - Was Mitch gratitict torFlor= R 'ii TRUE BOLITENESS. ence's, invitation, and the two little gil; in muslin dresses, with gay rib bims,-and bright garlands, started down tlie 'IA-venue, followe. %.IraPpy fees. They sang a I etS7 El a wkeept ipg time with their ttiafket,4ind gayi, - ,- k beautiful littlf were. • Piesently Lucy chanced to look baok,--,and-caughtr-sight of -Jane Our_tin walking behind all the. others, ,and alone. Jane had on a -clean cilia() dless-and-thiek shoes. —Her-father was ansiqn.est mans kill poctr i land could; 'nol-phichseqirthis hifl6 liaughtA. tirelluarlarieswhinirmtemefeliermnates= enjoyed; and tbei, instead being grateful : - foit i ii!r4F l . own: hi**, apd sharing them with,: their. hike friend, left ber to walk , alone. ' • But One of the.f)ol,y , rose ibciVe such seltiali feelings. Little' tucy could not: enjoy her elevated.position while one of her •friends was nnhappyi She knew any one would be idelighted to walk with the queen so- she. asked Florence to excuse her, and went back, took hold of Jane's hand, and walked beSide her Was not this poor little;,girl made very joyous,7 and did nbtflittcy's heart rtin'pver witlfgladneSs " .A.Aothezi ways made hafii)y also; This occurred just as they passed •t,hehouse . where Lucy lived. Her, mother, saw it, and shed - tears of joy, over this noble aatofiher daughter. God too saw it, and rejoiced that one. Of his "little ones" . was beginning to do his will.— Child's Paper. IN SEASON AND OUT OF SEASON. A young pastor of one of the up 7 town churches arose and said, that on the previous day he went out to visit a lady who was in a very .anXious state of niind. He said there were several anxious ones in his congrega tion, and he knew this lady was among the number, though he had never met her or conversed• with her. She was a strhnger to him, but attend ed upon his, ministry; and he had been told of her, state of mind, and, was • . requested to call upon her. He had tried two or three_ times to find the house, and failed. - He got the number, however, • and called. He rang the bell, and a lady came up from the basement to nieet him. He asked if that was Mrs. She said, "No; 'Mrs, is not in ;' but if you have any message for her, I will receive it." I was somewhat em barrassea, 'said the clergyman, and tlid • not know exactly what, to • say; lint • I answere4, I wanted to see Mrs. M-- particularly; and again she said,' "If you have any message for her, you can leave it with Me." "1 caine,"Unsviered the clergyman, "toconverse with Mrs. 31----) on the subject of , relitn. But perhaps, after all, my M ter has. sent me 'to. you. Will you allow me= to aalc if you are. a:-believer in the. Lord Jesus . 'Christ ?" The lady seemed very much over come `by the inquiry, and answered, " No; I am not ;" and sank into a chair. At the same time she asked me to be 'seated. " Would you like to be a Christian ? Do you ireally desire to. be' a Chris tian ?" . "I do." "Are you willing to do just what God requires, in order that , you may be a Christian ?" "I think I am ready, and willing and anxious to do what God requires of me. What am Itodo ?" "Only believe on the Lord Jesus °Mist with all your heart." "And: is , that all-?" " Ye.% :that is all. Now, will you believe on Him ?" pi wimt r y to believe." "4.h, that will not do. .You must not try, but you must believe. Now, suppose I came here and made you a very rich and a very needful offer of something which you desifed very midi; and suppose you'should hear me make it, and then say. to me, will try to believe you',•? would .you think you treated me•well ?" • . 'go si • . certainly not." ""Then, r you. treat ..Te.sus as you ,would ~not treat me,; .a, poor fellow-mortal ?" i`No, I will not. *hat am to be: lieve?" "Believe oh the Lbrd 'Jesus •Chritir, and you shall be saved." , q. : •" I do believe on -the. Lord -Jeetts Christ, I can—l do I" Her countenance, was already light ipg with, joy, as ,- 1 1ar n#4,ttncl heart, seemed to grasp the prom*, I opened the Bible and read some of the verses in the'tWelfth chapter of Isaiah. I asked her if her heart could say, in the language of the first verse," d Lord; I will praise thee : though' Thou west angry with me, thine anger is turned away, - and Thou comfortest me." "I can say a part of it ; and about a part of it I do not know." "What is there here that you do not know ?" "About his anger being turned away," she answered. "Do not know! Belie Ting in Christ, and do not know I" "Yes, I 'do ,know his anger must be turned- away—' is turned\ away.' Yes, I. can say it,'! she replied, Speak ing slowly, as if reftoting upon her ; viprds. , • , I react the other verses of the chap aT4dit IMMO ,t 9 ' P ink i, all, SA the matter of her experience and joy. We knelt down, and had a sweet season of prayer together, and we pititf . 4l In@ Inver ficOk her'before. I _vientho arother. - I fonifdr. her tVisome.' hat , sosAerked sinnerll left,. her •.4 ble, and, asl verily belreSrec,! a true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. And I also believe that-was -4.irfottd_-_toga there, in the providence _of. God, „at .jtlst the time I did.Chris tihn .7.earrihrg. TheilatedlanitdaSs4lickinsott*hadrthmisfor tune. while United States Senator, to lose his daughter, Mrs. VirginiaMurrny to *hom he - Was warmly attached!le".was thnd of'spend irg his unemployed •ThOrtiz - hy her grave, in Spring Grove - at Binghimpton and ope Sunday a ft ernoon, in 1857, while sitting at the spot, he wrote the subjoined stanzas. They were solicited for publicition during his lifetime, but from' diffidence he "always withheld his con sent. They now apPear for the first time "Exchanoe. Come to my grave alone, when' no footstep is falling near, And water my lowly bed with affection's, gentle • tear ; Pause by the heartless stone by the marble ; cold and chill, , And thiplc of the hear , is below as the marble • cold and still. Come in ..the, summer's prime, at•the close of the - husk day, • Whenj the Jove,tune, wildwood. - birds warble ; their vesper lay, Kneel by grassy' couch, whisper to Heaven • . aprayer, • • And the pint of her you loved will hover • around you there. Come when the autumn leaves are fallen, faded and sere, When Alia 7inoaning November breeze sighs o'er the dying year— When the reapers' work is done and the har i vestraretathered all, A n d thin]; of i the reaper Reath, who gathers dieireat'atkdisinall. wagon Come when the winter's cold, on crushing and icy feet, llas traveled around the earth in his frosted winding sheet, And hathlasted r the woods and the fields in . his journey of storm and strife And .3hOwn'in, , the elpsiug year an emblem of human life. Come in "the budding sprint, when nature "is . - fresh and gay, • When the petals of early flowers , are bright with the, dews of May; And think of tat heavenly spring; the spring of etertiel bloom, - When the loved shall meet together, beyond the night of the tomb. CALLED FROM THE SCHOOLTROOM TO HEAVEN. We takethe following touching in cident from the Loyal Georgian, pub lished at Augusta. Who can read it Without as-strOuger desire to eve the "key of knoidedge" to such: earnest , hearts , ? • " A visitor •to one of our colored night, schools, some five or six week's ago .might have seen an aged Woman, ;walling quietly in, who , taking her seat, immediately' - h er 'head nver.lier skiing and reading 'book; :and while a little wooden pointer, 'which she held . in her hand; pissed . over the words of her lesson, her voice in a low tone could be heard accom panying the motion of her hand. Had `he'remairied until the close of the ses— sion, he would have seen no change, no sign of weariness, no abatement of interest.' No, matter what might tran spire in the room, of a nature to ' , die.: tract attention, that old head'continued bOwed to itswork, that old hand still kept up its motion, frOm left, to right,' • and•that old voice. its quiet monotone. Nothing interrupted this absorbed gence until her turn came to xtaxi. spell her lesson to her tea Cher and then the spirit and emphasis with which this was done, showed how her 'whole soul was in the business. The positive • enthimiesm with which she read • her, simple. monosyllable phrases , (increas ing as her mastery over them increas- ed) was the , best of , commentaries Upon her estimate .of the value of:the ..work in which,she was engaged: When she Brit' came to school, she did not know hersletters. At the time toLlihich i have 'referred,- she had Isecome a toler ably fluent reader of simple words and sentences; so that, had she been per`' witted ; to keep on a little longer, the desire of: her heart--'-'-to be ableito read her Bible—would have been acconaL . - "But she was not permitted: . Night after:night, her place was, vacant;-and' after this had continued , some . five, or six Weeks; We Were' told by a neighbor that'fri 4il and scholar Was on her sick and 'dying bed. We : imme diately went to see her; and • founds= it even 'sof: Although Tier - mind' seemed Clear, and her senses uniiipaired, and the: strong pressure of. her honest old hand proved that she recognized her teachet, pet, it was apparent from her whole appoarance' that her earthly course was nearly run. And so it has proved. "Before 'these lines can be read, she Will have been two days in her grave. "Long as we May live, we shall never forget the old bent form in the Central Church.; the abcdarian " seventy-seven years ; the entlipoastio veteran in the love of the spelling; book; the primaryochool scholar, gathering in throtigh her dim and spec_ fueled eyes the form and significance of the letters which are learned by our children in the nursery ; and trans lated, to complete in another sphere the Work just entered upon here. fi n IP That old and I faithful hand Ireadi from its hibors; , that tremulousi voice COME TO MY GRAVE ALONE. is stilled, that dim eye shut ; and He `who is no respecter' of persons, who considers the color of the soul, not of the face, has taken her into his great high school, " Where knowledge grows without decay, And love shall neverdie.' " —Freedmen's Journal. CARE FOR THE .FEET, Many : are careless.-inthe care of their feet. If they them once a month, they think they are doing well. They do not consider that the.- lemestraperesof ‘the system-are-located: in the bottom of the foot, and that the most- offensive mattef La discharged titrougli"tikeie pores.: No one has failed to notice- the. odor. which is ex perienced in the presence of certain persons. They wear stockings from the beginning to the end of the week without &image. The stockings be come completely saturated with offen sive matter. It is sickening to be in the presence of such persons. 11l health is generated by such treatment of the feet. The pores are not only repellents, but absorba - nts, and this fo3tid matter, to a greater or less el.- tent, is taken back into the system,. The feet should be washed daily,i ass;, *ell as, the arm-pits, from which, an t , offensive odor is also emitted, unlcisa daily ablution is practiced. Clea*,, ness is next to godliness. A man or woman can neither feel well nor be well, unless frequent bathing is prac ticed: Stockings should 'not be worn More than a day or two at a time. They may be worn for , one day, and then airea and sunned and worn an other day; but to- wear the same stockings fora w.hole week is not doing justice to your feet, nor your bealth, nor your, conscience; for who can have a clear emcience in a foul bixlY?—BurarVortd. FUTURE HOUSEKEEPING. We sometimes catclrourselves won dering how many of the young ladies om we meet with ;;are 4o perform the part of housekeepers, when the young men who now, eye them so admiringly have persuaded ; them to become their - wives. We ' listen to those yoring eladies of Whom we speak, and hear them not only 'acknowledg ing, but boasting of their ignorance'of all household duties, as if nothing would so lower thein in the estimation of their friends:aB the confession of an ability to make bread and pies, or cook a piece of meat, or a disposition to engage in any useful employment. Speaking from our own youthful recollections, we, are free to say that taper fingers ' and lily hands are very pretty to look at with a young man's eyes, and sometimes we have known the artlessinnocence of practical knowl edge-displayed by a , young miss to appear rather interesting than other wise. Buto.we have lived long enough to,learn that life is full of rugged ex periences, and that the most loving, ro mantic, and 'delicate people must live on cooked or otherwise prepared food, and' the house kept clean and tidy by industrious ' hands. And for all the practical purposes of married life, it is generally fottud that for a husband to 'sit and gaze at a wife's taper fingers and lily •hands, or for a wife to sit and ;be looked at and admired, does not make the pot boil, or put the smallest piece of food.therein.—New Age. AMERICAN CIIILDREN. Mr. TroHope does not have faith in )the good results of American: training for children, and expresses his views of the matter as . follows : a I must protest that. American babies are an unhappy race. They, eat and drink just as they please; they are never punished ; they are never banished, snubbed, and - kept in the background, as Children are with us; and yet they are wretched and uncomfortable. My .Iteart has bled for them, as I have heard them squalling, by the hour .to gether,: an the agonies of discontent and dyspepsia. Can it be wondered that children are happier when they are made to obey orders and sent to bed at six o'clock, than when allowed to regulate. . their own conduct; that bread and rhirk- are more favorable to soft, cliildisla *rays, than beef steak and'pickles thief: therein day; that an eissi Oconal Whipping, 'even, will con di-ce' to. r*lcheeks ? It is an idea that -I shohld;never , dare' broach to an.Ametican mother ;.but I must con fess, that,-after my travels on the Western continent, my opinions have a tendency in that direction. Beef steak and pickles certainly produce smart little men and women. Let that be taken for granted. But rosy laugh ter and winning, childish ways are, I fancy, the prodrict i oUbread and milk." SWEARING. Swearing is the fit expression et huffian rage, and the most exact in terpreter of ..its real meaning. He who utters the fearful word of damna• tion against his fellow-man, is giving vent to a feeling which, h a d h e the power,would really consign him to hell. Anger is thus not only mur der, but murder of the worst kind: it would not only kill the body, but would cast both soul and body into hell. Swearer, see what your oath means I Angry man, see what your anger mein,*
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers