THE GOLDEN LAND. When the heavens are drearily shrouded, With clouds and wintry gloom, [ dream of a land that is golden With sunshine and Summer bloom, And then the clouds and the darkness Like mist roll away from mine eves, And 1 sce, in its beauty The land of the gol and splendor, Hes! ¥ {I8's rose And so, though { dre tin Of peace, atid of Snd I see, in ag 7 § He golden t our gre acted in our to oursel we have not i lightly or in vain. for the heather Brethren, vou | there are heathen a let every one of that day one who iO not Perl ve know not of And let meet here again, and brother to relate his ex Wed k. You w ho i this method please to rise.” Everybody rose, except old Tucker, who never stirred, though his wife pulled at him and whispered to him imploringly. He only shook his grizzled head and sat immovable. ‘Let us sing the doxology,” Mr. Parkes; and it was sung full fervor. The new idea had aroused the church fully; it was something fixed and positive to do; it was the lever-point Archimedes longed Gear it any find worl lying in your urday Po | Cine. ips you will us ii, on eve are ANOS eaid with wove a world. Saturday night the church assem. bled again. The cheerful eagerness was gone from their faces; they looked downecast, troubled, weary-—as the pastor expected. When the box for the ballots was passed about, each one tore a bit of paper from the sheet placed in the hymn books for that purpose, and wrote on it a name. The pastor said, after he had counted them: “Deacon Emmons, the lot has fallen on you.” “I'm sorry for't,” said the deacon, rising up, and taking off his overcoat, «J haint got the best of records, Mr. Parkes, now 1 tell yo.” “That is'nt what we want,” said Mr. Parkes. “We want to know the whole experience of some one among us, and we know you will not tell us either more or less than what you did wot experience.” Deacon Emmons was a short, thick- set man, with a shrewd, kindly face and gray hair, who kept the village store, and bad a well-earned reputation for honesty. ‘Well, brethren,” he said, “I dono why I shouldn't tell it. I am preity ol ashamed of myself, no doubt, but ¥ ought to be, and maybe I shall profit by what I've found out these six days backs I'll tell you just as it come, Monday I looked about me to with. Iam amazin’ fond of and it ain't for me—the say it ain't; but, me, it does se shan up good, cold mornings, to ha a cup of sweet, tasty drink, haven't had the grit to refuse, I : it made me what folks call nervous, and I call cross, before night comes and I knew it fetched on spells of low spirtts, when our folks couldn't get word out of me-—not a good one, any wav: 80 I thought I'd try on that begin with, 1 tell vou it came hard I hankered after that drink of coflix dreadfull Seemed as though I conidn’ eat my breakfast without it. 1 feel pity & man that loves liquor more’n ever did in my life before; but 1 fee sure they can stop if they try, for I've stopped, and I'm a-g stop ped “Well, fight, hing a8 vou micht say ing to stay come to dinner, there was an I do set by pie the mos I was fetched up on pie Our folks alwa doctor he's been tall bout eatin’ pie, IKE § verthing, f BIH warmed & evervhody aolks that was but when | S85 k ball t hard a-tearin’ round, and he's knocked two leng of fence down flat!’ Well, the old Adam riz up then, you'd | That black bull bas been a-breaking into my Jot ever since we got in th’ aftermath, and it's Square Tucker's fence, and he won't make it bull-strong., ss he'd oughter, and that orchard was a young one jest coming to bear, and all the new wood crisp eracklin’s with frost. “You'd better b'lieve I didn’t have much feller-feelin® with Amos Tucker. , Bays is into rithm weiter believe, as up pretty free to him, when he looked up and he, *Fellowship meetin’ day, ain't it, deacon? I'd SAVE, BAVSE felt as though I should like to slip be- hind the door. 1 see pretty distinet what sort of life I'd been livin® all the years I'd been a professor, when I vouldn’t hold on to my tongue and temper one day.” ¢‘Breth-e<ren,” interrupted a slow narsh voice, somewhat broken with emotion, “I'll tell the rest cn’t. Josiah Emmons come round like a man an’ a Christian right there. He asked me for to forgive him, and not to think ‘twas the fault of his religion, because twas hisn and nothin’ else. 1 think more of him to-day than I ever done before. I was one that wouldn't say I'd practis with the rest of ye. I thought twas everlastin’ nonsense. I'd ruther go to forty-nine prayer- meetin's than work at bein’ good a week. 1 believe my hope has been of them that perish; it ain't worked, and 1 leave it behind to-day. I mean to begin honest, and it was seein’ one honest Christian man fetched me ‘ound to't.” Amos Tucker sat down and buried his head in his rough hands. “Bless the Lord!” said the gquaver- fng tones of a still older man from a Ghivioning sxo gove, slows reepomAc: eye gave v § EE Ect said the minister, “Well, when next day come, I 4p to make the fire my boy Joe had forgot the kindlin’s. I'd opened i iv mouth to give him Jesse, when it me over me sudden that this was the lay of prayer for the family relation. | thought I wouldn't say nothin’, 1 ust fetche?! in the kindlin's myself, | { i i | | nd when the fire burnt up good i alled wife. «Dear me,’ gays she, I've got such + headache, *Siah, but I'll ninnit.’ 1 didn’t mind that, for women ays havin’ and I was jest ' {0 when 1 * about not bein’ come in oa aches, RAY RO, remembered } bitter em, 80 1 savs, ‘Philury, vou k { expect Emmy and ittles to-ddav.” 1 deel y Ine get the | Cian Rye, for 12 workin’ h ft of that is, it's becanse | it, and I ought to be. this mornin’ around, and cherk. Twas mis- and seemed as if "twas | a sight easier to preach than to prac. | tise. 1 thought I to old Mis’ Vender's. So I put a testament in my | pocket and knocked to her door. Says | I, ‘Good-mornin’ ma'am,” and then | stopped. Words seemed to hang, some- | how. 1 didn't want to pop right out | and I'd come over to try’'n convert | her folks. 1 hemmed and swallered a | little, and fin'lly I said, says I, ‘We don’t see you to meetin’ very frequent, Mis’ Vender.’ “No, you don’t!’ says she, as quick as a wink: ‘I stay at home and mind my business.’ “ +Well, we should like to have you come along with us anfl do ye good,’ says I sort of conciliatin’, + {Look a here, deacon!’ she snap- ped; ‘I've lived alongside of you fif- teen year, and you knowed 1 never went to meetin’; we aint a pious lot, and you knowed it; we're poor'n death and uglier’n sin. Jim he drinks and swears, and Malviny dono her letters. She knows a heap she hadn't ought to, besides. Now what are you a-~comin' here today for, I'd like to know, and talking so glib about meetin’? Go to meetin’! I'll go and come jest as I darn Please, for all you. Now get out 0’ this! “Why, she come at me with a broom. stick, There wasn’t no need on't; what she said was enough. 1 hadn't never asked her nor hern to #80 much a8 I think of ness before. Then I went to another place jest like that—I won't call no more names—and sure enough there was ten children in rags, the hull of ‘em, and the man half drunk. He give it to me too, and I don’t wonder. I'd never lifted a hand to serve nor save "em before in all these oars. I'd said consider'ble about n in foreign parts, Urs [ felt siomary mornin’, come a mite more begin be. I've been searched through and through and found wantin’, God bu merciful to me, a sinner!” He dropped into his seat, his head, and many anoth It was plain that the dea was not the only one an en. Mr. Payson ros he had never prave of practice had fi And it began a nen church in Sugar Hollow ; and i fement or Sabbath, the prooabiy iden, it i said, having r rence inated from i rele tO a man who was ilar offence the in iw A story astr roclivities who proudly imagined that he had elephant in the moon. however, he was no doubt somewhat disgusted when the big animal was found to be nothing more than a mouse which bad accidentally found its way a gentleman with FOIE io discovered Subsequently, an It is a popular belief that the rays of a8 SOME aver, even named from their supposed bility to lunar influence, and moon- mental aberration bordering on imbe- cility. as it was in the days of that the violence of madness increases with the moon and decreases as the latter is waning, the worst paroxysms occuring when the planet is at the full. With the ancients the age of the moon was taken into consideration when felling timber, and a correspond- ent of Nature states that the supersti- tion on this point is still firmly rooted in the public mind in Trinidad. The phases of the moon are supposed to exert a marked influence over the growth of mushrooms; and, formerly, in order that their flesh might not waste in the cooking, the best time for killing pigs was considered to be when the moon was on the increase or near the full, One sometimes meets with the supen stitlons that when Se Zh me and goes outon a d that month will not grow. Hair, it is said, should be cut at the new moon, otherwise itis likely to fall off; corns, on the other band, should be cut during the wan- ing of the moon, in order Ss holontos dL EY 4 imagine that a fresh moon is every month, and it may possibly huve iden that ha become 1h Crenivyg been a somewhat similar ised the new moon to stibiect of the nUMerons cnsloms ane ftitious fan ELIOT } tiv 1 tel 4 HiiN Hees tial, ii hh one not un- fred i with rinanent iocation, blind rushes it halt under a short rib nd wind. now insan- velled aking sever: for 8 moment Hear * Sping to catch its sec The unfortunate fat man in a state of mind bordering on ity. He kicked over his chair, and swore, grabbed himself in front both sides, rolled up his eves, frothed at the mouth, and spun round like a top. But the slip- pery bivalve was now thor oughly rat- tied and scooted here and there like a lightning, taking great pains not to travel over the same Was “He's got a fit!” screamed a wild “It's either that or he's afire inside his clothes,” said another pale- faced diner, edging away from the sufferer. “For meroy's sake take him off, somebody; I'm dying;” walled the stricken man, as he threw up both hands and sat down heavily on the floor. When the victim of misplaced re. freshments struck the floor the oyster ghot out of the back of his neck like a bullet, hit the ceiling with a squashy plunk, and then fell back and hung limp and lifeless from the chandelier. he fat man's physician says the atient will recover from his attack of ous prostration in a few days. Wills of Three Great Men, Tne last wills aid tevtamenise of the greatest three men ern ages were at one time tied up In one sheet of foo at Doctors’ Commons. In the will of the bard of Avon is an in. neation in his own handwriting: «] give unto my wife my brown best bed with the furniture.” 5 Tor The will of the minstrel . : FH i ME SRERETEN SR Le An LL: isu about 2 o'ciock of a chill Mr, X. presented hime of a doctor in the vil- of thun- rood « BECLI. v sl Was orning when Af at the door * A BerieR camp lone quails, ple who had the President shoot Wagons were standing in the fields for miles around. Little knots of people had come in from the entire surrouand- ing neighborhod and an authentic laimed that over §,000 le had turned out to the “There isn’t much need of one shoot to-day,” General somewhat ruefully, Pierce responded, «If we couldn’t kill anything i hey found crowds of people Come ont fo sed ul. pe ho sight. trying’ Harrison and Mr. did. we Try 3X00 pl Roose see ROCHE almost every other where the President has been, and with good iuck one can come across a deer or two in that neighborhood. emt —— The Wild Girl. The giri of sixteen who will neither sew nor do housework has no business to be decked out in finery and rame bling about in search of fun and frolic. There is no objection to fun, but it should be well chosen and well timed. No girl or woman who will not work has a right to share the wages of a poor man’s toil. If she does work, if she makes the clothes she wears, and assists in the household duties, the chances are that she will have enough self-respect to behave properly when lay-time comes; but if she should still a little < wild,” the honest toil she has done will confer upon her some degree of right to have her own way, ill-ju though it may be. The wild girl usually aspires to prominence in some social circle or other, and her
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