If We Had Hat a Hay.
Ife should fill tlis hour with sweolcst things,
If we hod hut n day ;
We should drink nlons at the purest springs
In our upwnni wsy;
Ws should love with • lifetime's love in ui
hour
If the hours were few;
We ehould rest, not for dreams, but for
fresher iniwer
To be and to do.
We should guide our wayward or wrary wills
By the clearest light;
We should keep our eyes on the heavenly
hills,
As they lay in sight;
We should trample the pride and the dis
content
Beneath onr feet;
Wo should lake whatever a good God sent,
With a trust complete.
We should waste no momenta in weak re
gret,
If the days were but one—
If what we remembered and what we regret
Went out with the sun ;
We should be from our clamorous selves set
free.
To work or to pray.
And bo what our Father would havo us to be,
If we had but a day.
SO GOES THE WORLD.
" Netta !" sang a shrill voice after
me, as 1 ran down the lane.
1 am Antoinette—Antoinette Lang
ley—and thev call me Tina, Toinette,
Ante, anytiiiiig containing any of the
syllables, in order to abbreviate the
tiresome appellation. Indeed, I con
sidered myself called too often. On
the present occasion I knew I should
be called back if I did not run. I ran,
and was recalled notwithstanding; I
returned to the house more delilx-rate
ly than I had left it.
"The most essential tiling I have
forgotten," said Aunt Tilda—the thing
forgotten was always most essential
with her. " It din's not matter how
many offers you get on the way, you
an; not to ride. You will spill the
custard and your dress will lie spoiled."
" I promise," I returned, gravely
holding the pail almost at arm's-length,
"I will not ride unless Tom Armstrong
or Susy Winters' beau overtakes me. I
could not refuse Tom, you know,
aunty, because 1 like him; nor the
very sage Mr. Kverard. because I uo
not like Susv. Resides, I have met
hiin on occasions, and he—well, he in
terests me."
"As for Mr. Kverard, ho would
never think of asking you. Susy is
much handsomer—"
"Than anything you please, Aunt
Tilda, if you except your lovely
niece."
"Ride with Tom Armstrong, if yon
think- best, Toinette Langley," said
my aunt, suddenly leaving Susy; and
she continued, bcr hand directl to
ward me in the form of an index: "He
hal better not bring his pink-and-white
face around here any more, or I'll send
you into the kitchen and receive his
simpers myself ! I'ali ! I can't abide a
pretty man."
'"When I return I will toll you
which of the two I honored," I said,
turning from her with a low bow.
Tom. whom my aunt calls a good
for-naugbt, is the squire's son, and ha*
always lieen my preux-ehevalier. I
have buttered him and sugared him.
as the mood seiz*l me, and snuhlied
him unmercifully at times—he was so
tiresome.
Hut Aunt Tilda had fallen into the
way of fretting aliout him. For this
reason and liecanse lie often assured
me that Susy Winters' tw-auty could
I war no comparison to mine, I had
favored him of late.
Mr. Kverard is a new arrival, He
has just built a cottage -an nrtistic,
unpretentious structure- hired a I o i*e
kecper. and settled down among us.
His house just libs into the little nook
where it was built, and seems to be a
part of nature. The birds think it lie
lnngs to them, hxi, and hover around
it in ecstasy.
Aunt Tilda it was who told me this,
and she added that she did not at all
wonder, for the other houses in Walton
were an offense to architecture and
the birds knew it.
Hut I do not see hut there are
feathered songsters enough in our
•Ims, and I doubt if Aunt Tilda would
exchange her gambrel-roofed home
stead, that has servtxl the Langleys for
four generations, for the "new-fangled
concern," as Deacon Reward calls it,
that Mr. Kverard inhabits.
This Mr. Kverard is an author—a
man who writes heavy articles on
social science, or some other incom
prehensible subject, for the (teeanin.
We hardly expected that he would
ass4K-iatc with us common raorta's, but
he had twice attended our **K>rietica,"
each time bringing Susy Winters,
wh*we father is his friend ; and Susy,
since this distinction, had assumed
high airs, thereby exciting our resent
ment.
I bait not proceeded ten rods on#ny
way iK'fore John Seward, the deacon's
son, drove up mid asked me to ride,
'• I should lie so glad to, Mr. Hcw
ard," I nai<l ; "lut Aunt Tilda Just
back to say that on no ac
count was I to ride lost I spilled the
contents of thi# pail, which is to bo
delivered intact to old Mrs. Turner."
" We might look out for that, Miss j
Tina," he said.
" Oh, yes ! I ain not at all afraid of
spilling it," I replied. "I only fear it i
might offend aunty, who is inclined to |
think well of you now." '
The young man drove on and 1 was
exultant; for had not my aunt for |
once been caught in her own trap?
Of all the young men in Walton,
bating Mr. Kverard, John Seward was
the one she would have most approved
of my riding with, and I had not the
least objection to his escort on oeea- ]
sions myself. 1 only felt that jealousy ;
of my liberty which young America
must have inherit**! from its Revolu
tionary ancestors, and I did not like
dictation in my choice.
Soon after John Seward disappear**!
I hoard another team behind me, sure
footed and *triking in exact concert. I (
knew before he slackened his pace to
pass mu that it was Mr. Kverard.
I lifted my face shyly fit was shaded
by a pink Mmbonnct j to make sure it
was he, when, touching his hat, he
said :
•' Hut for your manner, Miss l.ang
lcv, I should nut have been able to
make you out. I do not think you
could change that with your dress.
Will you rjdo?" ,
" I ,1111 going to Mrs. Turner's," I
replied, "and aunty said 1 must walk
all of the way."
'• Well," said he, smiling, "it is a
long walk, but I must not urge you."
" 1 don't need urging," holding up 1
my hand to be helped in. " I am too \
wise to walk that distance when I can !
ride as well."
'• Why did she wish you to walk ?" he
inquire*!, when I was seated.
" Ostensibly on account of the ens- i
tard," I said, touching the covered pail
—"as though I would spill it—but J
really lest I might ride with Tom Arm
strong. She dislikes him, and thinks
he is omnipresent when 1 am out."
"Upon what is her aversion based?" j
" I lis beauty. The same platform of
my regard."
Mr. Kverard laughed, and leaned
forward to peer under my sunlwnnet,
I was quite serene.
"That is rather a shaky foundation.'
is it not. Miss l.angley? It seems to
mo a man should have something bet-,
ter to recommend him to a true
woman's regard."
"Oh, well," I replied. "Mr. Arm
strong is * lever. Not in the Knglish 1
sense of tin* term, perhaps; but I don't
think he would harm a fly. Aunt Til- I
da calls him innocent, because she j
thinks lie lacks energy."
••Perhaps you are strong-minded.''
said Mr. Kverard. "and that accounts
for your preference, as such people are
strongly attracted bv their opposite*, it
is said."
lie was evidently making sport of
both Tom and me, so I only answered
with a toss of my head, for tlie time
oblivious of my covered pail, and on
alighting soon after at Mrs. Turner's
door, Mr. Kverard exclaimed:
" What a sight for gods and men !"
The custard had spill**! a portion in
my lap, and yellow streamlets trickled
down from his side. 1 was Ailed with
dismay; but lie seem**! master of the
position, and looked down with a quiet,
laugh.
" You are distressed," he said. " Alt.
Miss Toinette, forgive met I fear that
! have not looked out as gallantly for
your custard as Tom Armstrong might
have done; and then ' Aunt Tilda' might j
take a dislike to me, and I had intended
to make her a propitiatory offering,
and try to induce her to let her niece
take a long ride with me. It would
give me pleasure to take you next week
to the Falls."
"To the Fall*!" I repeated, looking
up with slow delight.
I had not seen them sine® I was a j
child. They were but fifteen miles |
away; but aunty would never let me j
! " flam off," as she called It, that dis- !
tance, with "a parcel of giddy-jjeails;"
so I had never been included in the
distant excursions of the young folks.
" Yes," he replied, to my exclama
tion. •'Will you go?"
" I could not think of refusing," I
answered; •• and for Aunt Tilda, her
heart must lie adamant to spoil such a
treat."
•• Well, we will go. then, and It will
make me almost as glad as it will you,
for it is long since I have seen a frank
, look of pleasure like that wiiich beams
from your face."
Upon entering the house I deposited
my pail in Mrs. Turner's pantry, And.
ing that there had not so very much of
the custard escaped. And with the
anticipated pleasure promised me I felt
less like a martyr than usual In trying
to make myself useful to the old lady,
who was not of a very genial nature,
; but disjioscd to be fault-finding even
with thoan who were trying to benefit
her.
I walked home, and on entering ex
claimed that I was nearly exhausted.
"Then you should have ridden with
John Seward," remarked my consistent
aunt.
" Why, aunty, you know you forbade
riding."
"And you know, Miss Antoinette,
that 1 would have been perfectly
willing to have you ride with John."
" Flut there was the custard, Aunt
Tilda, ami beside I wanted to keep my
word."
" You rode with Torn," said my
aunt, looking a little wrathful.
"I rode with Mr. Everard," I con
fessed, and she made no comment.
A few days after this 1 sat in the
door picking over currants, when Mr.
Kveiard mode his appearance, lie was
armed with a Imuquet and a basket of
luscious-looking strawberries. The
former was for me, the latter for
Aunt Tilda.
She was pleased. And when an
emotion of pleasure mover her she is ■
just lovely and nothing els*.
1 was half in fear that Mr. Everard
would forget to invite me to the prom- 1
ised ride and engage my aunt instead.
Hut no.be naked for the pleasure of
taking us Isitb. Mr. Winters' family
wastobe of our party, he said. Aunty
graciously consented.
Well, we had our ride, which was
delightful ; and during tin* season 1
there were a series of societies, as 1
usual, and a picnic or .*>- the only
means of dissipation presented to the
rural mind in a community emiuenily
staid and church-going.
Occasionally I went with Tom.
sometimes with Mr. Everard—Susy
Winters coming in, likewise, for her
share of attention fr on the latter gen
tleman.
At last, in its season came a grand
nutting party. Tom was my attend
ant. 1 bad used a little manuvcring
—strategy I dignified it—to receive
his invitation in good time so that I
might say I was engaged when Mr.
Everard came later with a reqin-st
(which I thought he would), as a just
punishment, you sis-, for bis having
taken Susy to the last society when I
considered it my turn to receive that
attention.
It was October at the last. The
trees were half aflame, and the hectic
leaves had whirled' into variegated
hea|s that served us for seats when
we grew weary.
Mr. Everard took Susy and was
more attentive to her than circum
stances railed for I thought; and I got
dreadfully tons! with Tom's inter
minable nonsense, and slipped away
Into the wood*. I rather enjoyed, in
prospective, Tom's bewilderment when
he discovered iny absence.
I wandered down to a little stream
and along its lstrder until I reached a
slight bluff crowned with late (lowers.
They were really beyond mv reach, I
thought; but the unattainable lured
me and I determined to attain.
So I commcncisl climbing, and had
almost reached the summit of my de
sires, when I slipped, and caught by
bushes, and struggled, until I arrived
ingloriously at theltasc.
My hair was disheveled—lt was my
own—my dress torn, my arms bleed
ing.
I sat with tears in my eyes, in con
fusion and distress, my sleeves pushed
back, insis'ting bruises, when who
should appear on the scene but the
formidable Mr. Everard!
" Tina Langley, by all that is love
ly !" he exclaimed ; and his next move
ment was to kneel at my feet, like an
old-time knight. " Xow have Imy
bird of the wilderness at an advantage.
Torn and bleeding, her plumi>* ruflled,
her spurs lost; no Aunt Tilda in the
way and no Tom Armstrong."
And then for the next half-hour
that author of social science improved
the time, saying the most foolish
things in the most unscientific way,
until Torn blundered along.
He was not too obtuse to compre
hend the situation, and on our way
borne he dcrlnred that I bad ruined
his prospecta, and he should die of a
broken heart.
I kindly promised to use my Influ
ence with Mr. Everard to haven suit
able epitaph placed upon his tomb, and
he called me a heartless charmer, and
left me at last, protesting that his
earthly career was well-nigh ended.
I did really feel uneasy respecting
him; hflt w hen I had given to my aunt
a correct account of the day's doings
(and I observed that my disclosures
respecting Mr. Everard afforded he r
great satisfaction), she carried her
chin high in air, as I expressed my fears
and said:
" We will aoe what we shall see."
Well, we are to l>e married soon, Mr.
Everard and I, and Tom Armstrong
has broken hin heart, after the manner
of men, by engaging himself to busy
Winters, who, three months ago,
• bought Tina Langley must be greatly |
In need of an escort to go with that
Tom Armstrong."
"And so goes the world," says my
reflective Mr. Everard.
She Won't Need Them Any More.
Nome days since a disseminator of
''fmff notice I a ragged little bootblack
culling some bright blossoms from a
bruised and faded bouquet, which a
chambermaid had thrown from a
window into the alley.
" What are you doing with that
bouquet, my lad?" asked the dissemin
ator.
, "Xawthin'," was the lad's reply, as
he kept on at his work.
" Hut do you love flowers so well
that you are willing to pick them out
of the mud?"
" I s'pose that's my business, an'
none o' yotir'n."
"Oh I certainly, but you surely
cannot expect to sell those faded
flowers ?"
"Sell 'cm ! who wants to sell 'em ?
I'm g'lin' to take them to Lil."
" Oli, oh ! Lil is your sweetheart, I
i see."
" No, Lil is not my sweetheart—site's
my sick sister," said the lxiy, as his
j eyes flashed and the dirty chin quiv
ered. " Lil'* been sick a long time—
an' lately she talked of nothing but
(lowers an' birds, but mother tole me
this iimrnin' that Lil would die b-lebe
j fore tlie birds an' flowers came back."
The Inty burst into tears.
"Come with me to the florist's, and
; your sister shall have a nice laulqiiet."
The little fellow was 5..,n bounding
■ home with tin- treasure. Next day h<
i appeared and said ;
" 1 came to thank you, sir, for Lil.
i Tlifißmuqtict done her so much good,
and She hugged and hugged it till she
set herself a oouglun' again. Shu says
she'd come hime-by and work for you.
as soon as she gits well."
An order was sent to the florist to
give tlo- I toy every other dav a bouquet
for Lil.
It was only the day ivfore yesterday
that the Imothla-k appeared again. !!••
stepped inside the office door and -aid:
"Thank yui. sir. but Lil- Lil"
(tears wa re streaming from his eye*)
" won't need—the flow ers any more."
He went quickly away, but Ids brief
words bail told the rtory. Lil won't
tiei-d the flow, rs any more, but they
will grow above her and the birds will
sing around her just the same.— Ihtroit
Chuff.
■
The button Trade.
Although this Country engages
largely in the work of making certain
kinds of buttons by machinery and
stands unequalcd in the manufacture
of tin- lira*-, ivory and machine covered
varieties, Americans, according to a
tralc j viper, cannot compete in the
manufacture of the styb-* requiring
handwork or the use of stone. Glass
buttons are made mostly in Bohemia,
and ehildren are largely employed at
tlie work, which they do as quickly
and as neatly as adults. The children
get ten cents a day, men from forty tc
fifty cents and women a little less.
I'earl buttons are imported from
Vienna, where they are almost exclu
sively manufactured, and the all-im
|Nrtant shirt buttons are received
mostly from Hiriuingham, England,
where the majority of metal buttons
are likew i*e procured. The most ex
tensive of all the button-manufactur
ing, however, is that of the Parisian
j and Berlin novelties, in which new
styles are gotten up and sent to Amer
ica Vverv week. In one manufacturing
village near Paris, where there arp from
live to six thousand inhabitants, all tin
working people are engaged in making
the agate button, which, even with
thirty per cent, duty added to the cost
sell, when Imported into this country,
at the extremely low figure of thirty
one cents per great gross. The material
alone, it is reported, could not lie pro
rured here for double that amount.
Coffee a Disinfectant.
It is not sufficiently known that
when coffee Ivans are placed upon hot
coals or on a hurt plate, the flavor aris
ing is one of the most effivtive and at
the same time agreeable disinfectants.
If no heat is disposable, even the spread
ing of ground coffee on the object to lie
disinfefted, even If it be a cadaver, is
most satisfactory. Some journals an
nounce this as a newly discovered fact,
but it appears by investigation that it
was well known by nurses and house
wives forty years ago, while some mem
Iters of the medical profession became
only convinced of its value some
twenty years ago, while at present the
majority of physician* are not aware
of the virtues of this simple and
agreeable remedy.
The principal street car company in
Boston has discarded the bell punches,
alleging that dishonest conductors
have discovered ton many ways by
I which to cii cum vent them.
TOPIC# OF THE DAY.
Joseph Arch, the English land agi
tator, was formerly a common lodger
and ditcher -the best in Warwickshire,
it is said. He is a stout man, with a
round, red, good-natured face, and a
ipuaker is often eloquent, though
sometimes hesitating ami confused.
ll* will endeavor to secure a scat in
parliament at the next general elec
tion.
The lumber business of FugetSound,
W. T„ is immense, arid its distribu
tion is very wide. In one day, recent
ly, vessels were seen loading for Bos
ton, Ban Francisco, Valparaiso, the
Sandwich Islands, Vallejo, Mexico,
Japan, China, France, England and
Australia. The export in 1881 was
about 175,000,'J00 feet, valued at
$1,700,000.
Farmers in tin- United States have
$12,210,2-53,310 of capital invested in
their business. Of this amount the
value of farms is placed at $10,196,-
■W.'>4s; farm implements at $408.-
510,902; livestock, $500,832,187; fer
tilizers, and fence $79,-
705,723, From fhis enormous sum it
is estimated that nearly sl'.io.<ii>o,o<#
is annually > ollwted in taxation fur the
sujijiort of the local and national gov
ernments and purpose* of education.
The total contribution or proluetion to
be credit*! i , tin- farmers foot* up in
round number* $2,500,<XX),000.
The English paper* have had to pay
dearly for their war correspondence,
but the enormous demand for news
ha* apparently more than compensated
them. The press cen-.rship required
ths dispatches to be sei t just as they
were to ie published, a d would not
permit "skeleton" in<- ages. Every
word sent from Egypt c t about $1.75.
and th* average expense of one London
daily is said to have been $5,000 a
w i-ek. The telegraph bill of the Stand
nr>l, whose dispatches have l*-en the
most complete and graphic, is believed
to have averaged sl.2<>' a day.
The last dog story is told by a Georg'.i
paper, thi- Aincriciis N'jiubliran. It
is to tbc effort tlmt a faintly in tliat
town having a fa!*" grate in one of
the rooms of the house, placed some
re<l pap-r behind it to give it the effect
of fire. One cold day the house dog
caine in from out of doors, and seeing
the paper in the grate, lay down to re
ceive the heat a* it came from the lire.
Feeling no warmth h< raised his head
and l'sikisl over hi* shoulder at the
grate ; fis ling no heat, he applied liis
n<*e to the grate and sme.lt of it. It
was cold as ice. With his tail curled
lietwcrn his legs the disgusted dog
trotted nut of the room, not even cast
ing a look at the party in the room.
t
A quite novel theory a!out the ulti
mate fate of the devil has lx*en pr<e
pounded l.v Ir. Ilatcly Waddcll at
Glasgow. The reverend gentleman se
lected for his text the well known
verse* in the twentieth chapter of
Revelation "And I saw an angel
comedown from heaven, having the
key of the liottoinless pit and a great
chain in his hand. And he lay hold on
the dragon and lound him a thousand
years, and cast him into the bottomless
pit." lr. Waddcll explained that the
terms dragon, devil, or Satan w ere hut
figurative expressions for what is
called the principle of evil. If ever
an angel, he informed his audience,
came down from heaven to earth for a
work like this, it was the angel of elec
trical science. It caine direct from
heaven. If sitHi an angel brought a
chain in his hand, it was the telegraph
wire and the electric cable coiled up
and carriisl on his arm. If ever such
an angel hail such a key as spoken of
in the text, it was the submarine tele
graph-Just in pn>|>orlion as electricity ,
risriixl the earth, just in that same pro
portion would the devil lie defeated.
The United States government own*
much valuable projxTty in Washing
ton. From the figures of the official
assessment, it ap|x ars that the capitol
building is assessed at $15,099,556, and
the grounds at $7,907,595. The White
House at $734,599, and the executive
stables at $28,500. The treasury de- i
partment building and grounds are'
assesso 1 at $7,008,454 ; the state, war
and navy department buildings, i
$6,211,161; the agricultural department
building. $331,825, and the grounds,
$689,086 ; the Smithsonian, $492,651,
and national museum, $250,000, and
the grounds, $2,553,378 ; the national
monument grounds, $1,815,781, and
the Washington monument, $300,000 ;
the national observatory grounds,
$125,861, and the building. $255,284 ;
the patent office building and grounds,
$3,754,883 ; the arsenal buildings 6233,-
324, and grounds, $1.221,607; the J
marine liar racks ground, $31,235, and
buildings, $829,637 ; the naval hospital,
$7 ,198,128; bureau of engraving and "
printing grounds, $27,612, building,]
j $327,537; Winder's building, used by
J engineers' bureau of the army, $214,-
I 307; United Mate* medical museum,
j 590,280; general postoffice ground*,
' £312,495, building, $2,124,500; govern*
ruent printing office, ju
diciary square and city ball, $1,399,-
713; United Mat-s jail, $.525,5.50;
United States navy yard, ground
$1,413,500, building* and wharves,
$3,615,808; liotani'-al gard'-n, grounds, j
$1,402,251, buildings. $556,670, hot
house*, $58,598. Tk<- aqueduct is
valued at $3,847,547, arid water pipes
and plugs, $172,270. The intersections
of streets, circles and space* are
down at $4,082,942. 'J lie department
of justice, ground, $150,000, and build
ing, $150,000; the government Insane
| asylum, $1,349,775; the reform school,
$221,056; the soldiers' home, grounds,
$333,947, buildings, $350,000; naval
magazine, $95,000; th* Georgetown
postoflice and custom house, $',3,707.
Curious Anrbnt Records.
Many were the expedients resorted
to by the early K<nl>e-> lor the supply
;of writing materials. There was no
scribbling paper whereon to jot down
t rival memoranda "r accounts, but the
heaps of broken pots and eroekery of
all sorts, which are *o a)>undant in
Eastern towns, prove the first gug
ge-tion for such china tablet* and
slates as we now use, and bits of smooth
stone or tiles were constantly used for
this purpose, and remain to this day.
I ragments of ancient tiles thus srrib
bled on (such tih- as that whereon
Ivzekeil was commanded to portray
the city of Jerusalem jhave Ix—ri found
in many places. The island of Ele
phantine, on the Nile, is said to have -
furnislied more than a hundred sjas-i- A
mens of these BMBMnitdM which an .
now in various museums. Oneof these 4
is a soldier's leave of absence, scrib
bled on a fragment of an old vase.
How little those scribes and account
ants fan--.m the iiit< re-t with which
learmxl d< sc ndant* of the barha*
ri.ujs of tin- isles would one day
treasure their rough notes. J
quainter were the writing materia , of
the am lent Aral's, who, before the
time of Mohammed, used to earve
their annals on the shoulder-blade* of
sh<*ep; tin e "sheejeb Ji" chronicles"
were strung together and thus pre
servtsL After awhile sheep's lone*
were replaced by sheep's skin, and the
manufacture of parchment wax brought
fo such perfection as to pi t it among'
the refinement* of art. We hear of
vellums that were tinted yellow, others
white; others were dyxl of a rich 1
purple, and tlie writing thereon was I
in golden ink. with border* and inany
ijoloreil dis-orations. Tlo-*e precious
manuscripts were anoint - ! with the
oil of cedar to preserve tie-in from
moths. W.-hear f one such in which
(lie name of Mohammed is
with garlands of tulips and carnations™
painted in vivid colors. Still more
precious was the silky paper of thdl
I'ersians, je>wdcr<*l with gohl and sil
ver dust, whereon were print's!
Illuminations, while the b • .1. was per
fumed w itli attar of rose* or •>*< nee of
sandalwood. Gmtl<man't Jfa</a?iiu.
PEAKLB OF THOUGHT.
The next dreadful thing to a battle
lost is a battle won.
. Memory is strengthened by exercise
and life by remembrances.
The history of the world is nothing
hut a procession of clothed idea*.
Every one has his faults, but we dc
not aee the wallet on our own backs.
Though authority lie a *tubl>orn
bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with
' g"M-
Love is never lost. If not roripro
oated it will flow lark and soften and
i purify the heart.
A lie Is like a brush-heap on lire ; It I
is easier to let it burn out than to try I
to extinguish it.
The grand essentials of happiness I
are something to do, something to love I
and something to hope for. fl
Fortune turns faster than a mill I
wheel, aud those who w ere yi-steixlay I
at top may tind themselves at bottom fl
twlay. ■
A man whose reason is sound neverfl
is without perception of truth, if only I
he has the affection of understanding I
truth.
A man's first care should tie to avoid I
the reproaches of his own heart; hoi
next, to escape the censure* of
world.
A slave has hut one master. Ttofl
ambitious man has as many
as there are persons whose aid nmyH
contribute to the advancement of hilH
fort una
An interest ing fact brought out byfl
the British prntmasirrttneral'ianuufl
report i* that during the last fiscal
the United States sent Great
9,500,000 lie w spa per* and received
| her 7,500,000.
M
I