VOL. LIV. PROFESSIONAL CARDS. C. T. Alexander. C. M. Bower. £ BOWER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office in Garman's new building. JOHN B. LINN\ ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street. OLEMENT DALE, ATTORNEY AT RAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. Northwest corner of Diamond, D. G. Bush. S. H. Yoeura. D. H. Hastings. JgUSH, YOCUM & HASTINGS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. BELLEFONTE, PA. High Street, Opposite First National Bank. w M. C. HEINLE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of Centre counry. Special attention to CoUectlons. Consultations In German or English. W -BUR F. REEDER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE. PA. All bus'ness promptly attended to. Collection of claims a speciality. J. A. Beaver. J. W. Gephart. JJ E A VER & GEPHART, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street. North of High. w. A. MORRISON, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Woodrlng's Block, Opposite Court House. JQ S. KELLER, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Consultations In English or German. Ofilco In LyonS Building, Allegheny Street. JOHN G. LOVE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office In the rooms formerly occupied by the late w p. Wilson. BANKING CO., ft AIN STREET, MILLHBIM, PA. A. WALTER, Cashier. DA V. KRAPE, Pres. IIAR 1 ER, AUCTIONEER, KEBERSBURG, PA. Satisfaction Guaranteed. A man cannot be a ,>rosperous Chris tian without settled seasons of prayer. Opportunities to pray will be found when the heart is intent on the exer cise. bin alwaj T s begins with ploasure and ends with bitterness. It is like a colt which the little boy said was very tann in front and very wild behind. We should enjoy our fortune as we do our health—enjoy it when good, be patient when it is bad, and never apply violent remedies except in an extreme necessity. When we speak of obedience we should always speak of faith lirst. Faith is the first and. fundamental act of obedience. Faith is the mainspring of obedience. If you would relish food, labor for it before you take it; if enjoy clothing, pay for it before you wear it; if you would sleep soundly, take a clear con-, science to bed with you. Socially, politically, and religiously, the civilized world is in a terrible un settled condition. Everything appear to be in a state of unrest. There seems to be no well stated limit to anything. Conversion is life from the dead. It is the healthfulness and growth of functions that were entirely extinct, in contradistinction from the notion that it is an education oi the heart —a mere training of an inherent principle. Cheerfulness is just as natural to the heart of a man in strong health as color to his cheek; and wherever there is habitual gloom there must be either bad air, unwholesome food, improper ly severe labor, or erring habits In life. Let us have none the less emotion, none the less morality, but from top to bottom, within and without, through out and without end, let have right eousness. Then our emotions will be read, our morality will be love, and our rightousness will be holiness. Translate the sense of Scripture into your lives, and expound the Word oi God by your works. Interpret it by your feet and teach it by your lingers. That is, let your workings and your walkings be Scripture exposition, as living epistles read and known of all men. Trouble must have great possib lities of blessing in it, or it would not be so common in God's world. Surely we need not dread it so when it brings in one hand the peaceable fruit of right eousness and in the other the joys oi consolation for so many sorrowing souls. ilc pitlleiii SUinrnal LOSING AND LIVING. Forever the nun is pouring its gold Ou a hundred worlds that beg and borrow; His warmth he squsud TB 011 summits coid; Ilia wealth on the homes of want and Bor row; To withhold his of precious light 1B to bury himself in eternal uighL To give 1B to live. The ilower shines not for itself at all; Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses; Of beauty and balm It is prodigal. And it lives in the light it freely loses. No choice for the rose but glory or doom. To exhale or smother, to wither or bloom. To deny Is to die. The seas lend silvery ra\s to the laud. The land its sapphire-streams to the ocean; The heart sends blood to the brain of com mand. The bram to the heart its lightning motion; And over and ever we > iel 1 our breath. Till the mirror is dry and image < death. To live Is to give. lie is dead whoso hand is not open wide To heip th' need of a human brother; lie coubles the length of h.s life-long ride Who gives his fortunate place to another; And a thousand million lives are his Who carries the world in his sympathies. To deny IB ?O die. Little Love. Bessie, come; nurse is waiting! Run. now, ami let her attend to your curls ; you must look very neat, or Mr. Irving will not love you. It is almost dinner-time," said Bessie's mother. Immediately the child rose, raised her sweet lips to kiss mamma, and followed the nurse trom the room. "It is perfectly wonderful how much in fluence Mr. Irving has over that child! Just tell her to do angthing, and say it will please him, and that is enough. I never saw any thing like it." said Mrs. Wallace to a friend sitting beside her, who answered: "1 have, and would not encourage—or rather would strenuously endeavor to over come—that influence." "Now, my dear Georgie, what is troub ling that wisek^adof yours? What means that grave look and anxious light in your eyes?" "Fannie, I'm perfectly astonished at peo ple whose duty it is to watch over and guard their little ones, especially their girls from sorrows, planting in their young hearts seeds which may grow to be thorns, and treating children as though they vere void of any deeper thought and feeling than the appreciation of a doll or box of toys. lam sure that some children at five years have hearts that love as devotedly and sutler as keenly as many at mature years. You are shaking your head. I want to tell you a little story to prove my assertion. We have half an hour before dinner. Will you listen!" "Yes, certainly; but it must have a hap py ending," answered Mrs. Wallace. "1 cannot promise : perhaps tne end has not yet come. You know llattie Roy ?" "I do, certainly, a lovelier girl I never knew. Why she has never married has been a source of wonder to me." "Ay, and to many who knew her not so well as I. It is of her lam going to tell you. "Twenty-five years ago, when just at the age of your Bessie—and just as loving, too- a young man crossed her path. We will call him Joe Hewberry. lie was the class mate and dearest friend of Ilattic's brother. "At a part}' given during the Christinas holidays by Mrs. Roy, Joe, to pique one of the girls, attached himself for the evening to little llattie, dancing with her, promen ading through the rooms, with her tiny hands, clasped in his, much to the annoy ance of many bright eyed maidens, who really were envious of the baby girl. "Joe was handsome and very fasinating, a universal favorite with the ladies, young and old. "Several mammas endeavored to draw him away from his 'little-love' as he called her, and maumurved to get her from him; but all in vain, until wearily the sunny head drooped and with her arms around his neck, her sweet lips giving the good-night kiss, she sank to sleep. Gently then he resigned her to her nurse's care. "Every day from that time he came to the house, llis home was quite near. At the sound of his voice, llattie sprang for ward with outstretched arms to meet him. I have seen her, with her hands in his, look ing up into his face for hours, seeming per fectly happy. "Of course, this was noticed by the fam ily and commented upon. The child's o'd er sisters and and brothers could win her to their will by saying: " 'l'll tell Mr. Hewberry if you don't, and he won't love you then.' "Daily she gathered a little liouquet for him, and when the autumn days catnc and the flowers were few, the 'litt e love, would watch closely the slowly opening buds, lest someone else should get them. "So the days passed by for two years, and then for a time she was to be separated from the one she had grown to love so dear ly. "She clung round his neck, and begged to be with him when the hour of parting came. With promises of a speedy return he managed to soothe her. "His absence was short. He returned, bringing her for a Christmas present a pret ty little chain, to which was attached a locket with his portrait. "For Joe she learned to read to write; for him she would grow brave, and, with his hand holding hers, had her first tooth drawn. "When ill with fever, tossing restlessly from side to side, his hand could always quiet, his voice soothe. Without a mur.eiur she would take from him the most nauseous doses. " ' How will all this end?' I asked her mother once. "And lightly she replied, 'Oh, all right, of course. She will learn to love someone nearer her own age when the proper time comes; and he v ill be married long before then. He has a distant cousin, to whom, I am inclined to think, he is engaged. lam sure their parents are anxious for their un ion.' "As Hattie grew older, a little shyness MILLIIEIM, HA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1880. crept gradually iuto her maimer. 8ti;l the love was there. "Once, in a moment of confidence, she came to me, and asked, 4 l)o you believe i Mr. Hewberry likes anyone better than me? | Fred says he does—that he remained by | her all the time at the party bust night. 1 , wish 1 was old enough to go to parties! ! And 1 wish—indeed 1 do " 'What, liettie?' I asked, as she hesi tated. " 'I wish Cora Cashing didn't live in this world—indeed 1 do?' nodding her head decidedly, while striving to force back the I tears. "Oh, Nettie! this is dreadful!' I said, drawing Iter within my arms. " 'Well then, I wish Mr. llewberry and I lived somewhere else, where Cora Cubb ing wouldn't conic,' she sobbed. "I assured her that Joe did not love Cora ' Cashing; that Fred was only teasing her. "When she was ten years old, .loe was called suddenly away by the severe illness of his nearest relative, un uncle. "There was only time for a hasty Good bye, my little love! Make haste to grow i fast, and be a tall girl when 1 come back,' : he said, kissing her. "llis going was so sudden, she did not seem to'realize it. I was glad that it was so. Hut how 1 pitied the little thing when, day after day. as she bad done for years, she sat and watched ! "Time passed ou; the pretty child grew to be a beautiful maiden. Youths gather ed about her, and friends ceased to talked of Joe. Other names were mentioned as his had been; yet none could win an ans wering smile or blush. 1 knew for whom her love was kept. "The waiting, yearning look in her eyes gave way at last, and a joyous light broke forth. Joe was coining back. A letter to her brother Fred brought the glad tidings. He wrote: "I've a secret to tell you, dear boy! Hut. no ; I'll keep it for a surprise, in which you will rejoice for my sake, lam sure. In a few days 1 shall be with you.' " 'JOE.' "Again, as in her baby days, Hattie be gan her watching. Oh, I knew her heart was singing a joyous song, though the sweet lips gave forth no sound. "She stood in the porch, wailiug his com ing, clothed in fleecy white, roses in her hair, and a bright smile playing on her face. •' 'Hattie." "Fred came towards her. The boy's face hud lost its usual look of merriment, bis voice its careless tone. " 'liettie, Joe came by the train awhile ago"—he paused, dartingan anxious, search ing glauce at his sister's face—and he was not alone. I'll not let him surprise you, lit tle sis. I've hurried home to tell you his wife is with him.' "The light went out of eye and heart. The blush failed quickly on the young face, and, whiter than the dress she wore, was the band put forth to grasp the balustrade. "Fred sprang forward to catch her faint ing form. Like a broken lily he bore her in. And when Joe came she knew it not. "For many days her gentle spirit hover ed between life and death. Sometimes, since, I've almost regretted that it passed not away. . "She has never seen Joe Hewberry since his marriage. Three years after, she sent to his little girl, who bears her name, the chain and locket she used to wear.'' "Where is he now?" Mrs. Wallace in quired. "I've not heard of him for years; I know not if he lives." "Tliauks for your story, Georgie. Hut I wish its ending bad not been so sad." "Then its lessons would have been less powerful.'' True. I must profit by it without delay. I will send Bessie home with inoiher to morrow. The change will do her good, and break the spell." A few days after this, Georgie .Clark came to see Bessie's mother and said, with a bright smile; "I've come to change the ending of my story of the other day. In fact, the end had not then come. Here are ilattie's wed ding cards; her Joe has been a widower over two years. Hear what she writes to me: "Forgive me for keeping my happiness from you, 1113* dear friend, but I have not been able to realize sufficiently that this great joj'was forme to speak to others. Now that it is so near, and he is with me, surely musi it be. You who have knowu so much, must know all now. He loved and was pledged to her before lie knew 111 c. You will be glad to know this; I was. Had I known it. it would have soothed greatly the agony of bygone days.' "We were at Ilattie's wedding yesterday; a happier, lovelier bride I never saw." Working the l'inneer lOicket. "Yes, gentlemen,'' said a seedy-looking customer with a long beard, who had rung in on a party of tourists in the Baldwin bar room the other evening, "I was the first white American who set foot on the site of San Francisco. Many's the night I've roasted bcesteak for supper, and slept with the sand for a blanket, right where this hotel now stands. I owed thd entire country clear down to San Jose, and I traded the whole business one day for ten pounds of tobacco." "Five pounds," put in the bar-keeper sternly. "I guess I know how many pounds," said the oldest inhabi tant, somewhat abashed. "You said live pounds last night," retorted the bar-keeper; "and I've told you more than fifty times that if you intend to work the pioneer racket in this here bar, you must stick to the same story. If you don't. I'll let Joe Barker work the house instead; you hear me ?" And the relic of the good old Argouautic days drifted sadly olt to the lunch counter. 'The Kissing llush." One of the gentle customs that has been permitted to exist in English homes since the time of the Druids finds expression in what is known as the "kissing bush." It is generally a neat bough of mistleto, and when the household decorations are going up it is rarely ever forgotten, especially where there are young men and maidens. It hangs in the hall, and the charm lies in leading your fair friend beneath it and kiss ing her. Among the middle class this feat ure of the holidays is never neglected, and at friendly and family reunions it occasions much merriment. In Elmira, however, the tree has been discarded. The way to do is not to lead your fair friend beneath a tree and kiss her there, but to kiss her where she is; for nine times out of ten, when she gets under the tree, she'll change her mind. Procrastination is the thief of many such an opporunity. Squealing. In a late trial in Evansville, Indiana, Wieehel was sworn and put ou the stand, and began to explain to court, jury and counsel, not to speak of a curious audience, the mysteries of the game of draw-poker. "Well, you see," said lie, "the players sit around the table, and the man next to the dealer puts up his ante —" "Hold 011," exclaimed Mr. Brownlee. "If your honor please, 1 don't under stand —" "Nor do I," said the Court, warmly. "1 can scarcely believe that even men sinJul enough to play at cards for money would put their own female relations upon a table for sport. The jury groans aloud. "1 don't mean that," said the witness. "When a man puts up his ante, he puts up a certain amount of money a° 1111 earnest of play. Then the cards are dealt. Those who want to come in—" "Oli, i see," said the court, with a bland smile; "it resembles the old game of "smitten," where the young men are kept out of the mom—" "No," snapped the witness, "it ain't that. When a man conies in he puts up twice the amount of ante, and is entitled to a draw." "It is something like a lottery, and this money purchases ticket?" suggested Mr. Brownlee, with u look of profound curiosi ty. "No, a draw means that if you have come in 011 a pair, you have a right to an other deal ot cards. We were playing jack pots, and there w as a good-sized pot ou the table." "Who placed that pot 011 the table?" inquired Mr. Brownlee, sternly. "Why, all of em!" answered the wit ness. "Who were all of 'em?" persisted the counsel, with a grijn determination. The Court was leaning anxiously over the table. "All that were playing," said the witness. • "Give the names of all playing," shouted the counsel, while the excitement in court went up to fever pitch. The Court wus leaning on both elbows, with his si>ectacle on; the jury pricked up their ears, while one professional, who was a little incapable, adjusted his open band to bis ear. "Must 1 give the names ?" pleaded the witness. "Yes !" thundered the counsel. "Well, there was , and , and and myself." The names having been ejected, tiie Court slid back into Ins chair, the jury sank back upon their spinal points, counsel stopped to rest, and the audience sighed as if greatly refreshed. We would give the names, but they are in so many morocco covered autograph albums, aud on so many tailors' bills, that we think it un necessary. "You sec, in playing jack-pots you must hold as high as jacks to—" "Ah, yes," said Mr. Brownlee, smiling to the Court, whose lips smiled back while tl • jury grinned responsivelyl "This game is a harmless one. This comparison of 'as high as jacks' doubtless refers to Jack the Giant Killer, or Jack and the Bean Stalk." "Jack and the—!" cried the witness, j "Holding jacks means that you must hold cards as high in denomination as two jacks in order to open the pot." "That is, take off the lid of the pot, " ex- ! plained Mr. Brownlee, patronizingly to the Court. "Take off a monkey's mother!" cried the witness, with profound contempt. "There's 110 j>ot on the table- the money up is called the pot, and the man who holds jacks can require the other to bet him or drop out." "Drop out of the window or out into the next room?" asked counsel, blandly. "Are vou giving 111 c taffy?" asked the witness. "Taffy ?" wonderingly. "Yes, taffy, and don't you forget it. 1 don't take it 011 as ick." Counsel argued with the Court that the plaintiff ciiargi d Meyer and Miller with having jointly won his money, and yet here were three or four other persons admitted to have been in the game. He demanded that Wieehel prove the particular dollars and cents lost at spec tied times. This could not be done, and. at defendant's de mand, the jury gave a finding for the de fendant. A Tunic Heron. A writer says that he has a tame heron. A heron is a very large bird with very large wings, very long legs and very long neck. It lives along streams of water or by the sea in marshy places, and eats all the lisli it can catch with its sharp bill and sharper eyes. This tame heron is a funny fellow. His master found him in the nest when young and raised him, until he is now full grown. He has a small pond of water in the corner of the yard, and his great de light is to fish in it. Of course, there are no fish in the pond but the heron will make believe there is, just as a cat will play with a reel of cotton making beliave that the cotton is a mouse. The heron spends most of his time in the pond. He will take a small branch, or leaf, in his bill, toss it a long ways into the water anil then dash at it as though it were a fish. At dusk in the evening be creeps around the quiet corners of the garden, with his long neck stretched out and legs bent, in search of mice. When he sees a mouse he pounces down on it like a cat and cats it with great relish. Indeed, that is his main fault —he eats too many things, even to sparrows or other small birds. Law Decisions In Pennsylvania a deed is, in contemp lation of law, recorded when it is left for record at the recorder's ollice, and is valid notice from that time, though it be record ed in the wrong book and omitted from all the deed and mortgage indices. Lunatics are liable for necessaries, and where a lunatic obtains the property of one who, in good faith, deals with him in ig norance of his condition, he will not be per mitted to keep both the property and the prise. An architect who makes plans and speci fications *or a building, but who does noth ug more, is not within the provisions of the mechanic's lien law ar.d is not entitled to a lien against the building for his labor. The payment of usurious interest after the maturity of a debt is not a vavid con sideration for an agreement. The satisfaction of a mortgage on the re cord may be shown to have been entered by mistake, and in that event is not con clusive as between the parties to the trans action. Tricking the DKVII. The people of an Austrian town pruyeil the abbot of Einicdlin to build them a ] bridge, anil he advertised for a builder. A number answered the advertisement, but when they saw how the Kcuss roared and H foamed over the rocks, they shook their ( heads and departed. Only two remained; one was a tall, handsome man in block and tlie other a poor young fellow, well-known in the country as a clever mill-wright. The tall man asked the young man. who gave j his name as Christian, if he was the I architect. The answer was that he had j only built mill-dams, as yet, and he had , studied the project for two days, but could make nothing of it. The tall man in black assured linn he could make a suc cess, as he would throw an arch simply ) across tlic torrent and that he would finish j- it in one evening. "Ah?"' said Christian, laughing, "why you must be the devil!" j "At your service," lie answered politely, j- "Now, if you would like the credit, I will ( do the work for the consideration that you sign a contract giving me your soul." j A cold chill ran over Christian, and he ) was just going to commence his papers ) when a young peasant girl passed along themontain, singing a melodiousair. The poor fellow thought of the blue eyed mai i den at home, and thinking the other man j was some architect amusing himself with j his country simplicity, half-afraid, half , 1 laughing, he signed the contract in full. Christian went to the cove helow and . passed the night. To his infinite horror ' he saw the bridge was built and his own ! name on it as architect. lie hastened . to Abbot Herald and liesought his assist ance, who promised to do what he could. Soon alter the tall man in black appeared at the monk's house, and salutingliimsaid: ? "Abbot, you have a piece of my prop , erty here. "Hush!" was the reply; "don't waken : the young man; let us talk the matter over. I j Come in." The devil glanced into the room and saw ; nothing but an old woman, and in a IHHI at ( the other end a form which he recognized , for the young millwright's by his clothes, j On taking a seat by invitation lie noticed a chess-board on the tabic and he asked the , Abbot if he played. "A little," said the Abbot; "but it is not worth speaking of. The chief matter I is you cannot have that youngster." . I "Oh," said the devil, "we will see atxiut ( that. The contract is in perfectly gixnl j condition." "It is little I care aliout that," said the Abbot. "But the scandal of the thing; and you know that if 1 set myself to work j you'll have a tongh time of it." "lie reasonable, now," said the tall man. "I'll pay you for him." "Two souls from my parishes," said the Abbot, thoughtfully; "It's 100 much." I "Two? Who then?" cried Satan. Abbot Gerald pointed at the old woman. "Ah," thought the other, "I did not know that 1 liad claims upon her. But I do not mind her much, and always get one game out of two." He then added aloud, "I'll play for both, and that's fair." "Well, I don t like to be bard," said Ab bot Gerald, "I agree; but it's dry business playing chess." j The Abbot called the old woman and or dered her to sit in a chair by the stove. "It is your first move, and we play for this one first." "After you." said the devil politicly. "By no means, 1 am at home," said Ger ald. So the devil tixik the move, and after a pretty tough game the Abbot checkmated liim completely. "You are strong at chess. Abbot Gerald —you have won that one there," and he pointed to the old woman. '•So you give up all claim, now and for ever?" I "Oh, honor bright. Would you have me cheat you after so much politeness? I yield every inch. But now for the o her" "I am tired," said Abbot Gerald; "I think that we will not play any further. I'll give you the other—only take him quietly." "You are very courteous," said thedevil, as hr walked to the bed ami tapped the sleeper as he breathed heavily. "Humph!" said the sleeper. "That's not the licst of good manners,*' said the other; "get up when Ibid you!" and he pulled away the clothes. The sleeper was a great pig, with the millwright's clothes ranged about it; and as Satan turned round, he saw the old worn an stripped of her mask, and there was Christian, pale enough but smiling, j "That's a shabby trick you have played me, Abbot Gerald," said the devil, "but I'll batter your bridge again." "Try it," said Abbot Gerald laughing heartily, as the other flew out banging the door in his rage. The devil got half way to the place, when he met the procession returning. I They had blessed the bridge while the . game of chess lasted, and he had no more | power over it. It was so that Abbot Gerald tricked the ! devil. Where e Horn there is more uniformity of physical feature than is seen in any other quarter of the globe. The weight ot evid ence and authority is altogether in favor of the opinion that our so-called Indians are a brunch of the Mongolian family, and all ad ditional researches strengthen the opinion. The tribes of both North and South America are unquestionably homogeneous, and, in all likelihood, had their origin in Asia, though they have been altered and modified by thousands of years of total separation from the parent stock. Senatorial lt*m|iilceiiceii. Ex-Senator McCreary, of Kentucky, is a great lover of tobacco in its natural state, but as the price of the weed was a little too high for bis ideas of luxury, he always brought a supply with him to Wash ington from his farm in old "Kentuck." One day in the Senate he put his hand in the pocket oi his "swallow-tail" for the scrap of plug which was generally to be found there, but it was missing. So he called a riding page ana told him to go to his hotel in Georgetown (you can live in Georgetown for ninety cents per day), and bring a piece of tobacco about two inches long, which he said would be found on bis bedroom table. Well, the boy rode over to the hotel, three miles distant, and re turned wilh the fragrant plug. The Ken lucky statesman looked first at the youth ami then at the tobacco. "Young man," said he, "you can't come it that way. There's a chew missing." On another occasion a package was re ceived for him at the Senate postoffice, and the clerk in charge paid the duties, which were thirty-cents. He tcok the package to the silver-tongued apostle of the blue grass region, and told him the circum stances. "Too much," replied McCreery ; "I never pay more than twenty-five cents for a package like that. Here's a quarter. 1 can't afford to pay the other five. You'll have to stand it yourself." Ex-SenatorGoldthwaite, of Alabama, was noted for hisabscnt-mindeduesa, aud he was occasionally seen running about the senate trying to get out, and not being able to find the door. He would have the page-boys in the Senate looking for his hat or cane, which would be all the while firmly clasped in his hand, lie was much given to walking up and down the lobby, plunged in deep thought, often smoking u fragrant Havana, and entirely oblivious of all about him. Often some cheeky page of the senate would walk up aud ask the Senator for a light. Mr. Goldthwaite would mechani cally baud over his cigar, the boy would take a light, put the choice weed in his precious mouth, and hand over his old stump to the old gentleman, who would continue his stroll in blissful ignorance. It is related on good authority that, in one of his fits of abstraction, he walked into the Senate elevator, dropped a nickel into the hole back of the mirror, aud calmly re quested to be let out at "11" street. llmtie Kdiu'Htion. The following rules are worthy of being printed in letters of gold, and placed in a conspicuous place in every household : 1. From your children's earliest infancy, inculcate the necessity of instant obedience. 2. Unite firmness with gentleness. Let your children always understand I hat you mean what you say. 3. Never promise them anything unless you are quite sure you can give what you say. 4. If you tell a child to do something, show him how to do it, and see that it is done. 5. Always punish your child for willfully disoDeying you, but never punish them in anger. 0. Never let them perceive that they vex you, or make you lose your self command. 7. If they give way to petulance or ill temper, wait till they get calm, and then calmly reason with them on the impro priety of their conduct. 8. Remember that a little present pun ishment when the occasion arises is much more effortful than the threatening of a greater punishment should the fault be renewed. y. Never give your children anything because they cry for it. 10. On no account allow them to do at one time what you have forbidden, under the same circumstances, at another. 11. Teach them that the only sure and easy way to appear good is to be good. 12. Accustom them to make their little recitals with perfect truth. 13. Never allow tale-bearing. 14. Teach them self-denial, not self-in dulgence of an angry and resentful spirit. In School. A schoolboy being asked by the teacher how he should tlog him, replied : "If you please, sir, I should like to have it upon the Italian system of penmanship — the heavy strokes upward, and the down ones light." Schoolmistress (pointing to the first letter of the alphabet): Come, now, what is that?" Scholar: I shan't tell you. Schoolmistress: You won't, but you must. Come, now, what is it ? Scholar: 1 shan't tell you. I didn't come here to teach you, but for you to teach me. A country schoolmaster had two pupils, to one of whom he was partial and to the other severe. One morning it happened that these two boys were late, and were called up to account for it. "You must have heard the bell, boys; why did you not come ?" "Please, sir," said the favorite, "I was dreaming that I was going to Margate, and I thought the school bell was the steamboat bell." "Very well," said the master, glad of any pretext to excuse his favorite. "And now, sir," turning to the other, "what have you to say ?" "Please, sii," said the puzzled boy, 1 1— 1 was waiting to see Tom off." Read j Men. The rarest reconlcest to entertain him and keep him in good humor. No one could be more diverting wheu he choose, and here he was not only very anxious but very successful. He told one story after another. He kept the table in a roar. The fire-eater liecame quite pacific, and was delighted with his new friend. Foote passed from one good story to an other, and at last took to imitating differ ent people, a practice for which he had ex traordinary facility. The other guests got quite uproarious with the fun, when sud denly the luckless actor saw from the face of his enemy that he had inadvertently imi tated one of his friends. The duellist was, in fact, putting his hand in his pocket to pull out a card and present it as the pre liminary to a challenge, when he turned round to the mimic and said in a dry, satiric voice, "Really, Mr. Foote, you are so uncommonly clever in taking other people off, 1 wonder whether you could take yourself off." "Oh, certainly," said Foote. and he walked straightway into the street. Here his readiness probably saved him his life. It is noticeable how the characters of mind and body correspond, and how the ready man is generally quick in his move ments, prompt in action and fertile in re source. The great Napoleon used to say that no quality was so rare or so valuable as (what he called) two-o'clock-in-the morning courage. The power of suddenly changing front and altering the whole scheme of a campaign was precisely what the greatest of ail modern strategists would admire. He himself eminently possessed it. The man who had the wit to say to the aristocrat who taunted him with his lack of ancestry, " Moije suis ancetre," possessed a readiness of words as well as of action. He was not likely to lose either his head or his tongue. But this kind of promptitude is rarely coupled with staying power. It is distiLctly meteoric, and part of the brilliancy is due to the gloom which follows it. And, therefore, the nations who most possess it are also purposeless, and without reserve of force. One very amusing instance of military readiness is given in Napier's "Memoirs." The troops were defiling down a narrow gorge in India, when suddenly a mad bull was seen charg ing down at full swing and with tremend ous impetus. The captain had presence of mind enough to give the word of com mand. which his soldiers mechanically fol lowed. The order he gave sounds singular enough. It was this: "Prepare to receive cavalry." The soldiers obeyed, and the unfortunate bull was ' impaled on their bayonets. This episode has always been cited as an instance of the courage of the British soldiery. It seems rather to illus trate the courage of the Indian bull. Set Rtsrht at Last. A tew days ago acitzen who does busi ness on Congress street, Detroit, was drawn to his office door by a windy war of words between two men. Both seemed ready to tight if they had backing, and the citizen was looking as if ready to back the smaller one, when a man with a st iff neck and a painful gait came along, took in the situa tion, and said to the citizen: "Keep still—don't say a word—don't palliate a conflict!" The conflict was declared 4 'off* and the men went their ways, and the citzen return ed to his desk. In the course ot the after noon, the man with the stiff neck entered the office, passed the time of day and said: 4 'Out here this morning I made use of a word which I want to correct. I asked you to "palliate" a conflict. I meant 'participate,' not palliate. Good-day, sir," Next morning at 8 o' clock, when the citizen got off the car, the old chap was wailing for him on the corner, and, halt ing him against a stone wall, he said: "1 called upon you yesterday to explain that 1 meant 'participate' instead of palli ate." "Yes, you did." "I now desire to inform you that I didn't mean either one one. I meant 'preticipate.' I have used the word a thousand times, and I don't see how I misspoke myself as I did." "Oh, that's all right—no harm done," laughed the citizen. "No, no particular harm, but I want things right if they can be made so." They separated. Near the close of the second day thereafter the old man entered the office again, placed his hat on the floor, wiped off his chin and said: "I now desire to inform you that I didn't mean 'preticipate' after all. It was proba bly the excituient of the moment which made me say 'palliate,' and then 1 got mix ed in the others. What I meant to have said was 'precipitate a conflict, you see. lam now set right at last, and I bid you gocxl-by." Pacing for a Uoort Thing. A circus wagon, bearing the sign, "Trained Auimals," together with a laud scape supposed to have-been sketched in the interior of Africa, was hauled down to a blacksmith shop on Griswold street, Detroit, for repairs to the running gear. The cage itself was closed and locked, and a dozen boys soon gathered and wondered what was inside. Pretty soon along came a man who asked of the blacksmith: "What's in there, anyhow?" "Oh! nothing gnu," was the quiet reply. The stranger walked around the cage several times, shook his head like one in trouble and went his way. In an hour or so he returned with an awful grin on his face, chuckled around for awhile, and then said: "That was a purty good thing you got off. I didn't tumble for an hour, but it was good." "What did I got asked the inno cent smith as he crawled from under the wagon. "What! never! Well, hardly ever —ha! ha! ha! I ought to have tumbled sooner, for a feller in our town told me the ioke over a week ago, but you looked so serious I didn't mistrust you! Ah! you are an old joker, you are an old joker, you are! Hardly ever—ha! ha! ha! Let's go over and take a drink on that. I'm alwaya willing to pay for a good thing!" NO. 6.