MKE LEAVES, WE PASS AWAY.
I saw the leaves all falling,
Some so brown and sere,
And others, bright and swirling,
Carelessly floated near,
And as I picked a tiny leaf,
I thought of the Springtime fair,
hen buds and leaves were opening,
With besuties rich and rare.
Now the Summer fast has fled,
And faded have the flowers,
The Autumn leaves they too are going,
As swiftly pass the hours,
Yet in my heart there's tender love,
For the faded tokens here,
Emblems of a higher life,
That fills my soul with fear
For thus it is with all in life,
Like leaves, we pass away.
The frosts of Winter come $00 soon,
To chill us day by day.
— Brooks
Asbo
WON AT THE ALTAR
‘Why, no, I couldn't, Charlie—1 |
eally couldn't marry you,” said Net-
Je Travers, with a rippling laugh, as
he looked innocently into Charlie
{1ton's grave face, feeling just a trifle
uilty as she saw the despair creep
ver him.
He had always been a dear friend to
jer—nothing more. He had fought
jer battles as school in childhood; he
iad found the plumpest, ripest berries
md brownest nuts for hear especial
ating, but now-—now he had actually
aade her a proposition of marriage!
A very matter-of-fact affair he had
aade of it, too—not at all as she had
magined that an offer of marriage
rould come to her.
It may be that that was the chief
season of her prompt refusal. :
“Why not, Nettie, darling? I have
lways loved you,' he pleaded.
“That's just it!" she exclaimed pet-
Ishly. “I have always known you—
Aways since I remember. We have
bught over mud pies—"
*No, never! We never quarreled—
re always defended each other,” he
aterrupted.
“There it is again!” she cried, im-
atiently. “If we never did it is no |
ign that we never would. No, Charlie. |
like you—as a friend —of course; but |
then I do marry—well, my husband |
ron’'t be one who bas bauled me to
chool upon his hand-sled.”
“Who will it be?" he asked bitterly. ,
“Ob, Idon't know yet. My prince
18s not come to me,’ she answered,
oftly. ‘He must be handsome; you |
vok quite well, Charlie, but you are!
10t dark enough. He must be taller |
ban i am at least four inches; you are |
wo, Charlie—exactly two. He must
ave a lovely mustache, black and |
leavy; yours inclines toward red, |
‘harlie; you can't deny that"
“That's enough!” ejaculated the |
rtured young man. *‘You need nos |
ng your unknown hero's praises |
urther. I see plainly that I can |
ever hope torival him. Good-by." |
And without another word or glance |
© bounded over a stone wall and |
ralked rapidly down the road, leaving |
he girl by the maple trees strangely |
erplexed and uneasy.
“I declare I dido't think Charlie |
rould get mad so easily,” she mused,
tooping absently to gather the crim- |
on and gold leaves which fluttered to |
ler feet. *'It was real mean of him,
ure. Why can’t we goon as we al-|
rays have been? I'm sure it is nicest
0. ldon't know what I will do with!
mt Charlie but I can’t marry him, and !
von'tt So! How absurd! He must!’
ee it 80, 100. Of course he will when
te comes to think it over.”
But he didn’t, and the days passed
wiltly.
The crimson and gold faded into the
ireary brown of late autumn, but still
vhariie did not come back to her.
“] don't know what ails the child.
the is strangely unlike herself,’ said
ier fond father, anxiously, one even-
ng when Nettie listlessly left the
‘oom, after gazing silently into the
Ire for full two hours.
*She is losing flesh, too, and grow.
og pale. She eats scarely anything —
1t enough to keep a canary alive,”
dghed her mother.
“She used to sing songs and play
thess with me all the evening. You
iever could learn chess, my dear,’
rumbled the father.
“I think I will send her to her aunt
Mary in Boston at once.”
erbaps that would be best. If ht
8 ¢hange that she needs, that will be |
sthinge enough. I'll get her ready
is goon as possible.”
irs. Travers igstuntly left the room
0 look over Nettie's wardrobe, nad
ell that young lady of the good fortune
in store {or her.
“If you wish it I will go, mamma.”
That was all the thaaks she got for
the offer.
“If we wish it! Something does all
the girl—something serious, and the
losner she goes to Boston the better,”
tried Mrs. Travers, when she had re-
peated Nettie's words to her husband. |
So Nettie went to Boston, and aunt
Mury, weil advised in the matter,
plunged her into a dizzy whirl of
tight-seeing; yet she grew paler and
thinner daily. i
suitors came 0 woo her;
Clinton Ames, & young man whose '
rsonal appearance tallied with that
her ideal admirer,
“He {6 a fine young man, my dear,"
sald her munt, briskly, after he had
mlied one day, “A girl might do far |
worse than to Clinton Ames." |
“What business does he follow? |
wmked Nettie, Bbbeutly.
“Hear the child™ laughed her aunt
“I did not think that you were so
worldly, Nettie; nnd vk
jell you. What I sald wi
popuiar Spinion of a popular young
man. Hels very much welcomed in
dur sets, you know, but your uncle’
will inquire UM it ts anything
er. ous"
“It isn't—no, Indeed.” cried the
girl, with flaming cheeka “1 only
asked because-~well, because I did not
know what else tw say. He has no
merely
ary, and it would not matter to me
he had.”
But she was greatly mistaken both
in Clinton's Ames’ intentions and in
the naswer that she would give him.
The carrier brought her a letter
from home that morning, one sentence
of which burned into her brain:
“Charlie Alton is paying great at.
tention to Jennie Wells,” her mother
wrote, ‘and people say that there will
be a wedding soon.”
Why should Nettle's cheeks flame
and pale go suddenly as she read it?
And why should she care who Charlie
paid attention to? Jennie had been
her dearest friend, but——
‘The door bell rang ar that moment
and a servant came up with Clinton
Ames’ card.
Did 1 surprise you?” he asked,
love. *‘You must have read my feel.
ings toward you, dearest. Tell me that
you return my love!”
Why not? Charlie should never know
that she cared.
“I will marry you,” she said, as
with averted face, she placed her hand
in his and coldly permitted his be.
trothal kiss. “Only 1 beg that our en-
gagement be kept secret.”
“If you will not make me wait toc
long for my bride,” he assented.
*I'wo months, only- In two months
come to my home and I will be ready."
The two months passed away only toc
Nettie had overcome all opposition tc
her sudden engagement, and made her
preparations with a resolute and defiant
air.
She had not seen Charley Altor
since her return, and Jennie Wells had
called but once, to go away in puzzled
resentment at her reception.
“Delay the wedding. Your uncle is
making inquiries, and they may not be
answered to our satisfaction. We had
no idea matters hud progressed sg
far,” her aunt wrote in answer to
her mother's anxious letter.
But Nettle would cousent to nc
delay.
The wedding was to be at the church,
for the bride willed it so, «nd many of
the curious villagers assembled there
early.
Charley Alton was there in the dark
est corpevr-—there to witness the deatt
©! Dis Tondest hopes. sl mply Decauss ne
could not stay away.
The village pastor arase in his place,
and thers was a flutter of expectation,
followed by an ominous pause; then he
said, in an embarrassed voice, plainly
audible:
‘No license? Then the ceremony
san not proceed. By the laws of Maine
united in
marriage must be published upon the
books of the town clerk where they
reside five days.”
Charley Alton stole out, with the
feeling of nu reprieved crimioal who
has stood in the shadow of the gul-
lows.
“We might go over into New Bruns-
wick and buy our license,” ventured the
disappointed groom, when, with Nettie
their parlor and listened to the amused
chattering of the wondering villagers,
as they returned to their homes.
“No!” answered Nettie, impatiently.
“It was stupid of me,” added Mr.
Ames, in deprecation. “But we can
be published at once, and the wedding
will only be delayed five days”
“Very weil,” answered Nettle, with
an ominous flash of her eyes. which he
failed to understand; and he took uo
“I'm so relieved! How fortunate
chat he was so forgetful!” cried Aunt
Mary, who had come in haste, and
arrived shortly after Mr. Ames had
left.
And then she told the story-—com-
mon enough—of an extravagant young
man who wished to better his cond ition
by marrying the daughter of wealthy
parents.
*ITrue—every word," added her
but it was the money—Why, she hase
gone!
For Nettie, snatching a wrap, rushed
house to the old trysting-
place by the river,
Charlin had met often—belore
tempted to be her lover. The place
“We can't keep our secret any
the time is so near!
Dick Wilder, Nettie.
This ie
did not want to make the fact publie,
lent friends at present. We never
should have succeeded without Charlie
Alton’s help. He has
marked atitention-—-oh,
uearly jealous!™
Nettie never could tell how she man-
aged to get through with the next half
hour, and talk and laugh while her
heart seemed breaking.
But hearts Go not break easily, and
people can do things which they never
dreamed possible
Jeanie and her lover went away at
Inst, und left her alone with her mis
ear, Dick was
yet I bless him for 4!" sald
*So-do I!" she breathed softly, “Oh,
Charlie, what if be bad thought of the
license 7"
Clinton Ames understood ayy
bride, and she met him st the door,
leaning upon Charlie Alton's arm.
“It was all » series of mistakes!
ou will for.
usband, Mr.
Charlie did not for-
snd we were married
Clinton Ames bowed ully, and
ils and ime
body had made
mistake, 80d he vi
that it might be himsels.
Thegcod nre befrien "ed even
man in
me. This is my
wenks
life.
RUNNING A BLOCKADE.
A Thrilling Adventure of War Time, Re-
lated by a Woman,
The Narrative of a Confederate Captain's
Wifo—The Boat in the Breakers—A Nar.
row Escape—A Child Lost in the Breakers—
Fiction Outdone by Fact.
We left home March 4, 1862
by to relatives and friends! Tears,
tears, tears—how they flowed! The
world never before scemed so large
and untried and the dear oncs never
80 dear. But I had faith both in my
husband's tender care for his little
helpless family and in his nautical skill,
Leaving Savannah on the morning
of the 8th, we finally reached Jackson.
ville, Fla. Here we hired an open
boat, and on this we sailed to Enter.
prise, a distance of 1756 miles. Ar
rived Sunday night, and learned that
the Federals had taken possession of
all the ports along the coast, and that
the Fanny, the captain's vessel, had
left for Nassau in charge of her first
officer. The captain at any risk, how.
ever,]Jwas bent on following. He point.
ed out to me the difficulties of the
undertaking, the danger of crossing to
the West India Islands in a small
boat, but I turned a deaf ear to all
this. 1 was fond of adventure. We
went about 250 miles up the river to
Jupiter inlet, which brought us almost
in a direct line with some of the islands
on the Little Bahama bank. The
little crafs in which we embarked was
not more than 15 feet long, an ordi
nary ship's boat, heavy and slow. Our
trunks were packed midships, my
nurse took one child and I held baby,
while the captain managed rudder and
sails. We sailed the first night until
10 o'clock. The next morning it
blew a gale, but we still pushed on
until the danger became so great that
the captain was obliged to tuke in sail
and get near shore. Then getting into
the water he hauled the boat more
than twenty miles up the river, some-
times with the water above his walst,
until late in the evening when we
reached the shelter of a house.
The next morning the wind having
Good.
came, but with it not a sign of life
The dwellings along the
from twenty to forty miles apart aud
As a denier resort wo decided 10 camp
out in the woods. Fire
supper cooked, the blankets spread on
the ground, and we laid ourselves
down to rest. Awaking about mid.
night, I saw tne captain sitting by the
his own gun on his
“Mercy on me,” 1 eried, what's the
matter?
for bears.
forests, for we were in the wildest of
the wilds of Florida We started
again at daylight, and when
reached the end of our
in the southern states we had
traveled 400 miles in an open boat
But the end wus not yet. Before us
reach, was the never slumber.
ing sea
every hour seeming 0 {screase
force and fury.
our
ite
The buge waves tossed
sheets of spray and now toppling
above sur hehds as if to bury us from
sight forever. The servant and myself,
both dreached to the skin, baled 1nd us-
the children with the other, and for
We must have traveled fast for just
at nightfall, as we rose on the crest of
the captain sud.
denly exclaimed. “I see land.”
“Not so fast, not so fast." was his re-
ply, “for now it is a matter of life and
The breakers are just ahead.
If we succeed in finding an opening be-
if not
we shall bs dashed to pleces en the
rocks. Hold fast to the children and
A moment more and we were in the
breakers, which, racing afier each
other, curled and broke with a voice
foamed and boiled in the vortex below.
“Now, hold for dear life.” cried the
captain, as be braced himsel! to hold
the boat's head to the ifanlet. The
veins in his neck and face stood out
like great cords from the efforts he
was making not only to manage the
boat, but to control kis feelings in this
dreadful emergency.
Just at that moment a huge wave
dashed over the boat, tearing my little
girl from the arms of the nurse and
washing her overboard amid the wild
screams of the faithful Chloe and my
frantic efforts to save her. Out upon
the angry billows she floated, her goid.
en hair gleaming in the moonlight and
we powerless to save her, > one
second’s relaxation of her father's hold
on the helm would have been fatal to
all of us
“For God's sake hold tight to the
baby and brace yoursel! sguinst the
boat," he cried, and the big tears
streamed down his anguished face as
he watched the little body so dear to
us both floating further and further
out to sea. While his boat was being
to swim would have been certain death.
Again he best to the helm and turned
his eyes toward the land.
The little oraft, rising to the crest
of a watery precipice, trembled for a
minute, then
one of which, seeing the peril from
which he bad just emerged, sent a
boat promptly to our assistance, with
an invitation to come on board.
Cramped with cold and fatigue I was
unable to walk, but the men kindly
helped me to the cabin and to all the
rude comforts which they possessed,
and we were thus enabled to obtain
the rest and refreshment which we all
so much needed. That night the body
of my darling was washed ashore,
where it was buried by ber futher,
who with a few rude seamen perform.
ed the last sad rites.
The next morning we resumed our
journey, and on the 24th we reached
one of the Bahama Islands, We found
the people kind, but curious. Not ten
among the women had ever been on
the mainland, and not more than one
or two had heard a steam whistle or
seen a locomotive.
We reached Nassau in just three
weeks from the tims we left Florida,
and learned that the Fanny had re-
ceived a valuable cargo, and under her
first officer returned to Charleston, 8.C.
Not to be balked Mt his purpose at this
stage of the pursuit, the eaptain at
once took passage on the steamer
Nashville for that city. Arriviog off
the port, the captain deemed it im-
prudent to enter, when my husband
obtained one of the quarter boats, and
in this, accompanied by four or five
other passengers, we struck out boldly
for the shore.
We had not proceeded far when #
rifle ball whizzed through the captain's
hair, almost taking off his ear.
Whether it came from friend or foe,
no one knew, and as there were nc
arms in the little company save my
pistol, which I always kept about me,
it was proposed to hoist a flag of truce.
This consisted of a shirt, which was ac-
commodatingly stripped off for the oc-
casion and elevatad on an oar. Under
this strange banner we pulled dowa tw
the mouth of the creek.
Here wo fell into the hands of the
confederate pickets, several of whom
were the captain's frienda He who
had fired that shot with the aim of a
practiced deer hunter, was one of the
i captain's old college mates, and he
wept with joy when wld how neat
| both had escaped, ons from death and
| the other from a grief that would have
{ followed him ww the grave.—Home
| Journal.
—————————
A Study of the Decoliessy,
Womnn who wear dec
| comprise
which is
| propriety, says the
The woman **to the manner born,” ed
it, taught the propriet
i such exposure along with her
i chism,
Olieits
gowns
classes, but one
three
ond wears it with
frsmt i fin
Justilied,
i
Washington Post
y of
ucated to
CRIS
woars this dress
| does his uniform, as a malter of form,
{of duty, of necessity, and
| Such women wear this exposeful gar
of the Sandwich Islands when
| makes her debut in a string of beads,
a cotton apron, and clinking anklets.
The second class, not so well war.
| ranted in following the fashion,
| the women not educated to it
whose early life and training were
not in decollette circles, but who in.
| stead have imbibed much of the stern
i Puritanism, or prudishness, or provin-
{ cialism, if you will, of orthodox teach-
{ ing. of modest example, and of
{ simplicity.
The woman whose sudden rise of
| position tempts her into an unaccus-
| tomed baring of neck and arms against
{ her conscience commits an impropri-
i oly.
The third class are the vain women,
the silly and coquetiish women, the
women who have perfect figures and
malformed intellects. These are the
{ women who have in the eagerness for
| admiration disgraced the social regalia
i and made it a reproach.
The important thing is not how the
| body but how the mind is clothed.
| When a high-cut mind goes out in
{company with a low-cut dress the
| world does not concorn itself with the
| robe. But a decollotte spirit will per
| meate an assembly, though its neck
| band tickles its ears and its wrist frills
mask the hand.
mc of a ——
How Would This Look Nowadays!
One hundred years ago the leading
men in the United States read in their
Bibles that the body is more than rai-
ment, but they dressed according to
the advice of worldiy-wise Polon-
ius:
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
When Gov. Bowdoin, a tall, dignified
man, reviewed the troops assembled at
Cambridge, in 1786, he wus dressed in
a gray wig, cocked hat, a white broad.
cloth coat and waistooat, red small
clothes, and black silk stockings
Jonn Hancock's thin in person,6 feet in
stature, was very fond of an ornament
al dress. He wore a wig when abroad
and a cap when at home, A
rural
}
white linen, which was
the velvet. He also wore a blue dam-
ask gowa lined with silk; a white stock,
a white sstin-embroidered walstcoat,
black satin small-clothes,
stockings and red morocco slippers
adelphin, was dressed in black velvey
his hair was powdered and ha
behind in a large silk y hands
were encased in
a cooked hat wi
its edges adorned with a binck feather.
3s wore Ie xaaq aud shoe buckles, and at
s lo appe
polished white leather
» polished steel hilt
Home Made Hand. Grenades,
Any one can make the hand-grenade
fire extinguishers, and at a small frac.
tion of the charged in the
market. t quart bottle will
20lution, which is
sit pound of sai common
“mmoniag,
two quarts of water.
Dispatch.
wou d nthe world
Whoever would do good
Sussuatete rine ue, Wh cu
A
Bpent Two Forluues,
In the Hoffman
says a New York Ftar man, I met
Jumes Johnson, who has been ont in
Denver superintending a mine. While
we were talking a sesady-looking man
of stalwart frame came up to him and
begged the lone of a dollar, He got
it und turned away, when Johnson said
to me:
fortunes, That man was at work for
us five years ago as a miner, when he
got word that a relative had died and
left him a fortune of about $100,000,
He quit the mine and came east. He
spent his money in less than eighteen
months and drifted back to Denver,
broken down in health and the most
most sorry, abject-looking specimen
of humanity you ever saw. He had
sown the seeds of consumption, but in-
sisted en going into the mine again
and wo gave him a place. Instead of
dying, as we expected, he recyperated,
became strong again, and 1a the course
of a year was quite a new man. Just
about a year ago I was standing by the
mine office when he camo out to meet
s lawyer, whom 1 knew and who had
sent for him. The lawyer's mission
was te tell him that he was for a
| second time an heir—this time to $53,
| 000. ‘For heaven's sake,’ he exclaim-
| nd,
aguin? Is was a queer speech but
prophetic. e's broke again, as you
sce, and wants me to take him back to
the mine. I guess I'll have to do it,
but was there ever before such a fool-
ish speadthrift?”
manors ———
Adepis at Stealing,
coast of Soulk America are described
8s professional wreckers and thieves.
Their practices are told by the author
of “Tha Crulse of the Falcon."
aps him on the back
‘Bueno, Johnny; bueno Johnny.”
“It you
let into you,’
1
said Jack,
borse, which he mounts. With a sar-
ionic smile he wkes off his hat to
| Jack, bids him farewell, and digging
his spurs into the flanks of his
horse leans over his neck and is off at
| full gallop over the short grass of the
sandy plains
At the first stride of the horse, to Jack's
intense surprise his box is wrench.
ed violently from under him. He jumps
ie
HLL
! :
{ cover his senses he sees his property
i rolilng and bumping awsy over tue
sand hills at the heels of the gaucho's
| steed; for the clever gentleman had
| managed 0 make one end of his lasso
{ fast to the handle of Jack's box while
! engaged in conversation with him.
mie atin
Jones’ Bell. Reatralst,
She—Mr. Jones, look at that imu.
man on lhe other of
He has been following us for
the last ten blocks
Jones—Why didn’t you tell me
i before.
a lesson,
! Walking boldly scross the streot
! Jones says to the man: “Look here,
| Snip, I am very sorry I've not got the
' money 0 pay
{ but you ought not to follow me up und
dun me when I'm tryiog to capture
that girl
and if I succeed you will not only get
your money. but also an order for a
wedding suit”
Snip goes off satisfied.
Returning to the yoling lady Jones
save: *l am glad you called my at
tention to that cowardly
don't Whink he will ever stare at you
again. 1 had great difficulty in re.
straining mysell."'— Texas Siftings
mt
A Curious Calesmlation,
dent side
sirest
a
I'll teach the impudent pupp
results of some curious calculations,
which, if correct, will make a fellow a
size of a crowd and offering 10 bet his
last dollar that he is right. According
to the calculator on the staff of Justice,
all the people in the worRkl-—about
1.400. 000,000 could stand in a feild
ten miles square, and by the aid ol
telephones could be addressed by @
single speaker.
——————————
Western Joursallem.
and already our warm friend, Splog
Magin, the veteran mixerof the whole.
in-the-dark saloon, intimates that is is
time for us to whack up and give our
score on his books a blight We would
tice in this community? We have done
the whole-in-the-dark honor w imbibe
| at its bar the greater portion of the
elixir that we have abso: bed since our
arrival. It requires inspiratiou to fit
one 10 illuminate and enlighten a com-
ply the inspiration eliair we shall
transfer the patronage and sat-
our system elsewhere, or we
hien the community. We certainly
Mr. Splog Magin's duns, or even ane
noyed by his hints. Wo are destitute
but we are healed with gild-
ity untarnished. —Kent
A Dog that Prints & Paper,
Printing-prosses aro usually run in
strength and awkwardness; but the
ine that grinds the Plain
City Dealer is run by power.
large wheel, about two foet in width,
is connected with the drive wheel of
%
J.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT,
A good deed 1s never los.
He who plants kindness gathers
He wha sows courlesy reaps freon. -
ship,
If you cannot tea lighthouse be 1
candle,
Joys belp to form character as troly
. 88 trials,
Indepenieuce is only to be found ii
1solation,
! 1
| Don’t talk of what you are going u
do. Do it.
Our nature consists in
fect rest 1n death,
Our sorrow is the Inverted image o
our nobleness,
When a man gets to love work, hb
Infe 1s a ha ppy one,
Industry pays debts, while despair in
Ccreaseth them,
Silence 1s deep as elernity; speech is
shallow as time,
| Astone that is fit for the wall
nol be left in the way,
| A man never forgives a woman for
| maklog him feel silly.
Every man has his supreme vocation
{ The talent is the call,
I was born for higher things than
| be the slave of wy body,
| Noiseless falls the foot of time thal
| only treads on flowers,
What an admirable happiness
know how tw do without things
| The devii'sarmy is draftel; Lie other
i side is made up of volunteers.
1 have made of myeelf all that could
| be made cut of the matena',
Great works are performed, not
strength, but by perseverance.
The cardinal virtues are benevole_.ce,
{ justice, purity, truth and order.
| Woe tothe class or the nation which
{ bas no maniy physical training
Ill-fortune mever crashed that
| whom good fortuue deceiveth not
| A model wife 1s one who thinks bh
husband knows wore than her kio,
motion—pex
wil
w
vy
man
er
The angriest p-rsou in a conirovers
¢ " . . "
is the musi lidble to be in the wrong,
Every wan is a hero to some woman;
every woman 1s a heroine tL) some man,
The innocence of the intention abates
nothing of the mischief of the example.
Fewer people would be so wicked if
taey woull only stop to think bow bad if
looks,
Hear bth s des an all shall be clear
hear one and you may still be in the
dark,
doy descends gently like evening Jew
| and does not pa ter down like « hall
storm.
Friendship is the shadow of evenings
which sirengthens with the settius sup
ol life.
The great successes of the word have
been aff irs of a second, a third—nay, a
fiftetu trial
The man who knows indeed what it
is to act, to work, cries out: This, this
alone is to live!”
Nature does nothing iu vain, but is
simple sud del ghts not in superfluous
causes of things,
Young folks tell what they do, oid
; ones what they have done and foo's what
i they Intend to do,
| Most of our mis ortunes are more
| supportable than the comments of our
{ friends upon them,
| Teach children to love everything
| that Is beautiful, and you will teach
| them to be useful and good.
Friendship Is the only thing in the
world concerning the usefulnessof which
‘all mankind are azreed.
{ Opinions which are equally honest on
| both sides should not affect personal es-
Thiok twice before you believe every
| evil story you hear, and think twenty
| times before you repeat it,
i
i
Of all the riches that peop'e make 50
| much of, they carry no more out of this
| world than out of a dream.
We should often be ashamed of our
| best actions If the world were witness
| to the motives which impelled us.
It Is better to keep the woll out of
the fold than to trust to drawiagz his
teeth and claws a'ter he has enterel.
Never suppose that iu any possitle
situation or under any circumstances it
is be-t for you to do a dishonorable thing,
It is wonderful what strength and
| bolduess of purpose and energy of will
| come from ths feeling tha: we are in the
| way of duty.
; It simpossible that an lil-na ured
; man can have a public spirit, for bow
| should Le love 10,000 mea who never
loved one,
Never pronounce a man to be willful
ly viggard until you Lave send the con.
(teats of his purse. Distribution should
; be in ce with receipts,