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Tkurgag ligfraluit bi Pommies alliryoßcom,
at One Dollar per annnin, in advance. •
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seriotton to the wer. - • • •
EC AL NoTto RS Inserted at rinißavrs per
line for first Insertion, sod rIVI cairn peritnelor
each subsequent Insertion, but no notice Inserted
for less than shy cents.
YEARLY ADVERTISEMENTS wlli be Insert
ed at reasonable rates. ' • -
Administrators and Executers Notions,
Auditor'sd Notices,ALSO ; !Rumness Cards, Avelino',
(per year) it, additional Huai 41 each,
Vastly advertisers are entitled to, quarterly
changes. Transient advertisements mast be paid
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All resolutions of assocations; comMunleations
of limited or Individual Ante:est, and node's of
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ed friva Class per line., but simple notice" of mar.
rill4and de albs will betitabllsbedwlthoutcharge.
rtelltaroarau having larger circulation than
any Other paper in the connty, makes It the best
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JOB PRINTING of every kind, In plain and
fancy colors. done with,neatneu and dispatch.
Handbille, Blanks, Cards, Pamphlets, Billheade;
Statements. Ate, of every variety and style, printed
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tine can be executed 1n the moat artistic manner
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Visintss tatbs.
MRS, E. S. PERRIGO,
MIMICS OF PIANO AND ORGAN
Lessens given In Thorough Baas and Harmony.
Cultivation of the voice a specialty. Located at .3.
Snell% Hilo St. Reference : Holmes Passage.
- Towards, Pa, March 4, 1830. , • •
TORN' W. CODDING,
I 0
ATTOHNZT-11.1 , LAW, TOWANDA. PA.
Office over Mason's old Bank.
THOMAS E..MYER-.
- ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
TOWANDA, RA. •
Office with Patrick and Foyle. 5ep.2.5,19
PECK, & OVERTON
A TIVIMEYS-AT-L AW,
'• TOWANDA, PA,
D'A. 0 VLETOIrs
RODNEY A: MERCUR,
. ,
ATTORNEY AT•LAW, .
• TOWANDA, PA.,
Solicitor of Patents. Particular attention paid
to linsiness In the Orphans Conti and to the settle
nient et estates.
°Mee In Montanyes Block Mai 1, '79.
OVERTON & SANDERSON,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
TOWANDA, PA.
E. OVERTON. JR. JOIN F.SANDSREON
W 11. JESSUP,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW,
MONTROSE, PA.
Judge.Jessup having resumed the practlceof the
law In Northern Pennsylvania, will attend to any
legal business Intrusted to him in Bradford county.
Persons wishing to consult him, can call on H.
Streeter, Esq., Towanda, Pa., when an appotptment
can be made.
lIENRX STREETER,
ATTORNEY .4.ND COUNBELLOII-AT-LAW,
TOWA'SDA, PA
1 L. TOWNER, M. D.,
• •
HOMEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN .11 , irrp srmatos
r tm. Residence and °nice just North of Dr. Cor
bin's, on Main Street, Athens, Pa. unzri-fdn.
E
L. HILLIS,
A TrOUNET-AT-LAW,
TOWANDA, PA.
E. F. GOFF,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW,
WYALUSING, U.
Agency for the sale and purchase of all kinds of
Securities and for making loans on Real Estate.
A❑ business will receive careful and prompt
attention. (June 4. 1879.
'NYH. THOMPSON, ATTORNEY
• , LT LAW, WYA.LUBING. PA. Will attend
to all business entrusted to his care In Bradford,
Sullivan and Wyoming Counties. OMee with Esq.
Porter. [novl9-74.
E H. ANGLE, D. D. S
OPERATIVE A'SD MECHANICAL DENTIST
O! ee on State Street, second floor of Dr. Pratt's
Office. apr 8 79.
ELSBREE & SON,
ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW,
TOWANDA, PA.
ELSBRit,
N. C. Etsnnza
/A D. KINNEY,
ATTORNET-AT-LATT.
Otliceltooms formerly occupied by T. 31. C. A
Reading Room. Lipn.3llB.
I . M . cPIIERSON;
ATTORNST-AT.LAW,
TOW , ,ANDA, PA.
Dial AtCy Brad„ Co
jgHN W. MIX,
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW AND U. S. COMMISSIONER,
TOWANDA., PA.
Vffice—North Bide Public Square.
SAM W. BIJcK,
ATTORNE T-AT-LAW,
TOWANDA, PEN A^ A
•
Otilee—Sotg . h side Poplar street. opposite Ward
Howe.. (N0v.13, IST'.
DAVIES & CARXOCHAN,
ATTORD2III-AT-L kW,
SOUTH SIDE OF WAED HOUSE.
Dec 23-75. TOWANDA. PA.
JI - ANDREW WILT,
•
ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.
()Mee over !rumor & Gordon's Drug Store,
Towanda, Pa. May be consulted In German.
[Aprll 12. 111.]
W . J. YOUNG, . .
/LTTORNEY-AT•LAW,
TOWANDA, P.A.
tilee—senond door south of the First Nat!qoal
Batik Main St., up stairs.
WILLIAMS & ANGLE,
ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW
0 F F IC E.—Formerly occupied by Wm. Watkins,
11. N. WILLIAMS. (0et.17,, '77) E. J. ANGLE.
TM. MAXWELL,
ArrOIDISY-AT-LAM,
TOWANDA, PA.
°Mee over Dayton's Store.
April 12, ISTS.
ADILL & CALIFF,
A TTORN EY$-AT-L AW,
TOWANDA, PA
Office In W ‘oo's Block, first door soutl ot the Tint
N:111. 11 , hank, up-stalrs . ,
H.. 1. t' 41)11.1.. tjanlS43l.3l J. N. pALIFF.
- FIR. S. M. WOODBURN,'Physi.
Jur elan and Surgeon. I)Mee at residence,. on
Pine street, East or Matn.
Tuaal.. , a;May 1, 1a72 1j•
•
•
W. B. KELLY, DENTIST.—Office
Y • over M. E. Rosanneld% Towanda, Pa.
Tet , tt inserted on Gold, Sliver, Rubber. and Al
uranium terse. Teeth extracted without pain.
I a t.
1 - 71 .D. PAYNE, M. D., _• .
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.
(Rlve Yer3forganyes',,Store. °lnce hours from 10
to 12 and from 2 to 4 P.)l.
Special attention given to
ASES (DISEASES
and OP
EYE THE EAR
MO
ME
W. RYAN,
IB
COUNTY strenzICTZNIM
face day last Saturday of each month, over Turner
• it Gordon's Drug Store, Towanda., Pa.
T•neanda, June 20, 1878.
11 S. RUSSELL'S .
lie
GENERAL
XNS IT RANCE, AGENCY
I . may2s4ot.t. . TOWANDA. PA.
FIRST NATIONAL BANK,
TOWANDA, PA
.CAPITAL PAIR IN
suarLus
This Bank offers unusual facilities for the trans
] action of a general banking business.
N. N. BETTS, Cashier.
•
JOS. POWELL, President.
EDWARD WILLIAMS,
PRAUTICAL PLUMBER & GlB FITTER,
Place of business in Mereur Block, neit door to
Journal Office, opposite Public Square'.
Plumbing, Gas Fitting, Repairing Pumps of ;an
k :lola, and all kinds of Gearing promptly attended
b. All wanting Work itt Lila line should give him
- ' Per. 4, Irt•
COODRICK4k HITCHCOCK, Publlshenli.
voLum XL.
MY LITTLE BOY =THAT DIED.
Look on bfs pretty fare for Just one Infante,
Ws braided Met, his dainty buttoned shoes,
His litm-sbut Land, the favorite playing in It,
And tell me, motins, mraa't not•hard to lose
And.mtss•froin my idde—
..rly little boy that died
How many another boy as dear and charming,
iiis father's hope, his mother's one delight,
Since through strange sicknesses, all feat disarm
ing, . -
And lives a long, long life In parents , sight
Mine was so short a pride •
And then my , poor boy died.
I see him rockingon his wooden charger-;
I hear him pattering through the house all day
I watch his great blue eyes groW large and larger,
Listening to stories, whether grave or gay,
Told at the bright dreside—,
So daii now since be died.
But yet I often think my tool' le living, -
As living is my other children are.
When good-night limes Fall round am giving,
- I keep one for him, though he is eo far.
Can a mere grave divide
Me from him, though he died P
BEN'. M. Bzor
So. ivbile I come and plant it o'er With daisies,
(14,othIng but childish daisies, all year round.)
Continually God's hand the curtain raises,
And I can bear his merry voice's sound
Aud feel him at my side—
lily little boy that died.
—By the Author of " John lia/Vas GeitleMon.'
Miriam Leslie was listening to a
word of advice from her stepfather,
Mr. Palmer.. She was a very beanti
ful.wothan of two and twenty, with
a face that was a rare combination
of sweetness and strength. Just now
the resolute mouth and expression of
the brown eyes showed that firmness
in her character predominated, tho'
no look of temper marred her amia
bility.
Feb 27, '79
" I havF no power over your move
ments, Miriam," said the old gentle-
man, kindly. "You are of age, and
the wealth' you inherited frbm your
father is entirely under your own
control; but am afraid you are
committing a great error if you ac
cept Wilton Seymour's offer. I am
afraid he is a man to marry •for
money." •
cnovll-75
" Why ? I pass over the implied
slight to my attractions; byt tell me'
why you think Mr. Seymour marries
me for money alone."
" I don't know that I mean that
exactly. I know that you are young,
beautil ui and talented, but I, think if
you had been poor, you would not
have had this offer."
" Again I ask what makes you
think so ?"
" Wilton Seymour is one of that
Unfortunate class--a-young man who
has lived upon expedtations. He has
'been educated and 'supported by an
eccentric uncle, who was supposed to
be enormously wealthy. Wilton has
lived in complete idleness, passing
through college with average credit,
and since that, moving in society,
received everywhere as the heir- of
his uncle's money, who, when he diedi
left it—much less than was suppated
—to a hospital. Wilton accepted the
situation gracefully enough, applied
for a situation as clerk in the whole
sale house of Myers & 'Co.; and—
courted an heiress."
tfeb.lis
"You are bitter. I believe Wilton
Seymour to be an honorable, upright
man, who loves me, who is trying to
palm a support for himself,'and who
.does not look upon my money either
hs .a stimulus to his affection or an
impediment in the way of it."
I see that you are determined to
marry him. Well, I will see that
your money is settled upon yourself."
" I love my 'future husband too
wel to offer him insult. My money
will purchase him a junior partner
• ship with Myers & Co." _•
'ine has told you that ?" .
" - No. Mr. Myers informed me
that he could Le admitted into the
firm if he had a capital of ten thou
sand pounds—only a small portion
of - iny money. The remainder may
remain where it is, subject to Wil
ton's check and control."
Jan. 1, : 1875
"This is sheer insanity. I never
heard of such folly." •
Miriam's face,grew very sweet as
a look• came into her soft brown, eyes
of-devotion and trust.
If I am willing to trust myself,
my whole future happiness in Wil
ton's hands, my money is of little
consequence. if he cannot win my
confidence sufficiently to control my
fortune, do you think he can win my
love—myself ?"
Mr. Palmer moved uneasily in his
chair.
" I wish you would listen to reason
—I am truly speaking for your own
good," he replied.
" I know that.. After nine years
of stich loVe as my own father would
have given me had he lived, after
seeing your severe griet for my
mother's death, your affection for my
little stepsisters—your own children
—never surpassing that showed to
me, do you think that I do not ap
preciate your motives? I thank you
from my heart for your advice; but
my whole future happiness is involv
ed in this decision, and I ' believe I
am deciding to secure it."
" I •sincerely hope so. If in the
future you find I was right, remem
ber I claim' a father's right to com
fort you, a father's right to.receive
you."
Too much. moved by the old man's
solemn .tone I to reply in. words, Miri
am pressed her lips upon the kind
eyes that looked into her own. .
" There, my dear," he said, gently,
"I have spoken as 1 felt it my duty
to speak. Now we will mite to Mr.
Seymour,
who will become my s o n
when he becomes your husband. ("let
your finery all ready, and we'll have
a happy wedding. May God bless
you, Miriam."
Two hours later Wilton Seymour
came to put the engagement rind on
Miriam's , tinger,,to thanit.her for his,
promised happiness. Looking at this
man, as he held the hand soon to be
his own, no one could doubt his love
for the fair one - s 2 lio stood before him.
They had spoken of many subjects
when be said, suddenly : •
" Mr. Palmer Ilu3 told me your
generous wisliesi r Miriam, with' rc.-
$125.000
....... ...... 46;000
Aril 1,187.9
Padre.
*blued Pk.
MONEY.
BEM
. . . .
-
gard to money. I cannot consent to
this. In . time, I may prove hOir en
tirelyi-disregarded wealth when my,
offer Was made to you. It is true we
must have waited longer before I,
could , offer you a home; but I:will
win my way to fortune yet."
lie lifted his youtig, noble head as
be spoke, tossing the dark - curls from
such a frank, manly face, so full of
brave, bright resolutions, that Miri
am wondered in her heart houi any
one could' took into his eyes and sus
pect him of mercenary desires.
She said nothing in answer to his
impetuous speech, only smiled and
nestled her hand in hia. i She was not
a caressing woman—rather coy in
lier sweet maiden dignity; but where
she gave love and confidence, she
gave them fully and freely.
The days of betrothal sped rap
idly. During the day Wilton stood
at his desk, fingering over massive
ledgers and dreaming of future hap
piness, and Miriam selected her
house, furnished,land kept dressmak-
ers. seamstresses and milliners busy.
She had no objection to. her .stepfa
ther's wish to have hou4e'end furni
ture settled upon herself ; ,Lbut was
resolute about the remainder of 'her
large ;fortune being subject to the
control of her future butiband.
Busy days were followed by happy
evenings. The young people were
favorites in society, and friends
would insist upon social festivities
to celebrate the betrothal. The quiet
home evenings were pleasant beyond
these, when two loving hearts learned
to read each other; while Wilton
loved more ddeply every day,his worth
and manliness as made her 'future
look brighter every day.
But the days . of the betrothal were
short. A gay wedding, a happy tour
and the young people 'came home to
settle in the handsome new house as
quiet married folks.
Two years of happiness folleiwed.
Wilton was rapidly rising in the es
teem of business men—having pur
chased his position as junior partner
in the, firm of Myer & Co., at Miri
am's earnest request. But, although
attentive to his business, he was no
mere drudge seeking money as the
lionly end and . aim of his life.
h Miriam found him ever a willing
'escort to party, ball or opera, and
the hothe evenings were given to
music, or reading, or such bright in
tellectual intercourse as had its pow=
er of mutual attraction before their
marriage-
There were sage people who shook
their heads over the young wife's
extravagabpe ; but Wilton seemed
most hapj when she was gratifying
some new whim or desireand she
bad never known the need of econo
my. Money had always been at her
command, and there was riot;estraint
upon her expenditures. - For fine
dress she . eared but little, though she
was tasteful, and' her costumes were
always rich and appropriate ; but she
was generous and benevolent, loved
to collect trifles of exquisite art
around her, patronizing rising artists,
and found no difficulty in exhausting
her liberal income year after year.
St was during the third year of her
married life Miriarb began to fittd a
cloud upon the former bright happi
ness of her life. Wilton was'clianged.
In these three words the loving heart
of the young wife summed up all her
forebodings. He had been the sun
light of her life, loving, tender and
thoughtful; but it became evident to
her that some absorbing interest was
gradually winning him'. More and
; •
more,from her side.
Evening after evening he left her,
on. one 'pretext or another, oftentimes
staying away from her until long
after midnight. His sleep became •
restless and broken, and some ab
sorbing rare kept his face pale, his
eyes clouded, . his manner grave.
There was no unkindness to complain
of. Miriam met ever a tender caress,
a loving word ;but she went alone if
she sought. society ; she missed t t he
pleasant hoine intercourse ' • a.n and;
strange, dull fear crept into her heat.
Wilton was becoming miserly.
He denied her nothing, but some-
Mines would sigh heavily if she chal
lenged his admiration of some new
dress or ornament, and it was evi
dent he curtailed his personal expen
ses to merest necessities. Too proud.
to complain„Miriam, suffering silent
ly, prayed that she might never learn
to despise her husband as a_ mere
money-making machine. At, first she
endeavored to win his confidenee,
but he kindly evaded her inquiries,
and she made no further efforts.
But her home grew distasteful,
missing the companionship that had
made the hours there pass so swiftly.
She had never felt household cares,
trusting everything to an experienced
housekeeper. She' had, no children
to awaken mother-love and care, so
she plunged into ! fashionable follies
and tried to forget her loneliness.
Never had her toilet been chosen
with more faultless taste; never had
her beauty been more marked than
it now became; and' she sought for
excitement, as she never had done in
the first happy , years of her married
life.
And while Mrs. SeYmour was thus
seeking for happiness abroad that
could not be found at home, her hus
band's face became parer and thinner,
and he became more absorbed in
business cares. One year more pass;
ed, and the hearts that bad been so
firmly bound together seemed to be
drifting entirely apart.
Miriam was sitting sadly in her
drawing-room one evening waiting
for her carriage, which was to convey
her to a large social gathering at a
friend's. She was .dressed in costly
lace,,over rich silks, and every detail
of her co•tume was faultless in finish
and' of, choicest quality. Her face
was pale and her heart was very sad.
, She looked up as the door opened,
hoping to see Wilton, though it was
long since be had spent an evening
,iu her!society. Instead of his till,
graceful _figure, the portly forni of
her stepfather entered the room.
Miriam sprang forwatd whim glad
smile.
I am glad to , see yotA" she ex
.
elaimed 4 warmly.
"l3nt yen are going oat."
0 Only to be rid of my loneliness,
Eiti
INE
MEI
i ‘TVANDA, BRADFORD 00I1M, PL, THURSDAY MORNING, IvIAROI U 1880,
,:,~. I
anti myielf. I ehall•be happier here
with you."
"Truly, Miriam? Will you treat
me as your father-to-night? I
come here .ortia painful and delicate
errand, and 1 want your confidence."
She was silent for a moment, and
then said, "You shall have it."
"You love your husbnud, Miri.
am ?"
Tears answered him.
" Do you love society, and dress,
and excitement better than you do
Wilton ?"
"No: ! • i d thousand times,
no!"
" Could 3 , CU give up all therie for
his sake ?"
" You have some motive for ask
ing this 'I" 1
"I have, indecil. I your hus
band also, Miriam. I have , learned
to respect him, to trust him, and. 1
was wrong when you decided to
trust your happiness in his hands."
"But, father, some great change
has come over Wilton.. He seems
absorbed in money-making."
." One. year ago your husband asked
me to keep 'a secret Trom you, believ
ing he was increaOng your happiness
by so doing. I consented, but lam
convinced' now' , that the deceit is ,
wrong. 'He has assumed
_a burden
that is too heavy for him to bear, and
you are not happier than you were a
'year ago."
" Happier !" cried Miriam, impul
sively. " I am wretched, wretched
in 'losing my husband's society and
confidence."
" You shall- not complain of that
again. I cam breaking my promise,
but :you will soon un derstand lny
meaning. A year ago the bank in
which every guinea of your private
fortune yeas invested, failed, and,eve
rything was lost. This house; and
the money Wilton paid to secure his
business position, were l all that was
left of your father's wealth. Con
vineed that luxury, society and ex
travagance were , necessary for your
happiness,. Wilton enjoined me to
keep the fact a secret from you, and
braced himself for a tussel with for
tune, resolved to regain by his own
exertion what was swept away by
the failure, before you could discover
the loss. But, Miriam, he is over
tasking his - strength, add you are
becoming a butt for censure on your •
extravagance.. My secret has bur
denei, me too long, and you must
now be the judge of the right course
to pursue,"
Miriam was weeping, but the tears
were not all bitter. She gave its full
weed of gratitude to the love that
would have shielded her from the
knowledge of poverty add pain ; and
yet she could scarcely forgive the
want of Confidence in her own ability
to bear the sacrifice that.the deceit
implies.
It was long before she spoke, but
when she did her eyes were bright
and her voice clear and firm.,
"The house is mine?"i. she asked.
" Certainly. But it needs such a
large income to sustain such an es
tablishment."
" Tell me, what style of house does
Wilton's income warrant ? I mean
the i inceme he had two years ago."
" - A - smaller house, dear—no cury
age, no houiekeeper, two "servants,
but certainly no footman in livery
no observatory—"
"Stop, stop! I understand you.
1. - nn will see, father, if -.I Jun made
unhappy by your kind frankness.
Wilton is in the library absorbed in
business. Will you wait here while
speak to him ?"
". I will call again," he said, kindly.
Good night, Miriam. Heaven grant
that I may have judged your heart
Tightly."
But Miriam did not seek her hus
band at once. It seemcd mockery
to go to him with d'amonds flashing
from her rich dress; so she sought
her own room, and putting-aside her
evening toilet, dressed herself plain
ly, but very carefully, and then kneel
ing down, she prayed with earnest
fervor before she left the apartment.
" Wilton !"-
The harrassed and weary man
looked up.
"Wilton, you should have •trusted
me. Give me your heart, your confi
dence, my dear husband."
He bowed his head upon her out
stretched hands.
" Can you bear it, , Miriam ?"
44 I can bear anything-if you are
beside me—if you love and trust me.
What I cannot bear is to believe my
husband loves money better than his
wife."
" No, no." ,
" I understand that now.", But
there must be confidence between us.
Wilton, I , Must be your true wife,
bearing your sorrow and reverses:"
" My own brave darling."
He was standing beside. her now,
and for the . first time in that long,
weary year the old bright look was
on his face, and the old clear ring in
his voice. His arm was around her;,
and she leaned upon his breast.
" Forgive me," he said, earnestly,
"for doubting your courage—never
your love, Miriam." •
She laughed a merry, bright laugh,
and then playfully closed the desk.
She drew'him to a seat beside her,
and 'sketched a burlesque picture of
their future home, with Mrs. Sey
mour, in a crimson dress, frying on
ions, while Mr. Seymour milked the
cow in the garden; • • '
It is four years since Mr. Palmer
broke his promise: A happier home,
a more thrifty housekeeper, or proud
husband cannot be found, than in the
gretty house of the Seymours, where
love, confidence and happiness will
j I not yield the• first place to Money:
.. , 1 r„,
... _ .. .
- r '---. -: '1 i
' 1 L
_l ' -.
..
.. ' ' -.- I- - ‘..
Two brothers belonging to one of 'the
old families, living some' hundred miles
from New York, find continuous country_
life rather irksome. As one or the other
of them is obliged to be on the estate,
they take their turn in coming down to
the city for a little recreation. It was re
marked to ono of them the other day that
be and Ida brother were like two buckets
in la well, one always irciing; , up, and the
other going down. " 'Yes, replied Toni;
"and also like a well-bucket, the one go
ing-up is always full."—New York Hour.
" Yovico man," says the Owego Re
cord, "invest your capital in integrity."
It is quite impossible. There is really
none. in the market.—pnire Free Prete.
=MEE
EZGARDLESB OF 'DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER.
Nannette's Live Baby.
good many years ago, in the
city' -of Philadelphia, lived a little
girlommed Nannette. One summer
afternoon her mother went to pay a
short visit to her aunt, who lived
near by, and gave her little girl per
'mission to amuse herself on the front
door-steps until her return. So Nan•
nette, in a clean pink frock awl white
apron, playing and chatting with her
big wax " Didy,'! which .Was her
doll's name, formed; a pretty picture
to the passers-by, 'some of whom
walked slowly, in Order to-hear the
child's talk to her doll.
= "You'se a big, old girl," she went
on, smoothing out Didy's petticoats,
"and I've bad you for e v er and ever,
and I ' se mos' six.. But you grow no
bigger. You never, never cry, you
don't. You'ao a ,stiipid old thing,
and I'm tired oryou, lam ! b'leve
you'se only a make bleve baby, and
I want a real, live baby, I do—a
baby that will cry 1 Now don't you
see," and she gave the doll's bead a
whack—"that you don't cry ?. If
anybody should bit me so, I'd squeam
m-u-r-cf-e-r, I would 1 And then the
p'ilsman would come, and there
would be an awful time. There, sit
up, can't you? Your back is like a
broken .stick. Oh, hum, I'm tired of
you. Didy."
Leaving the doll leaning in a one
sided way against-the door. Nannette
posed her dimpled chin in her hands,
and sat quietly looking into the
street. Presently a woman came
along with a bundle in her arms, and
seeing Nannette and a Didy " in. the
door-way, went up the steps and ask
ed the little girl if she would not
like to have a real little live baby.
"One that will cry?" eagerly ask
ed Nannette.
" Yns, one that will 'cry, and laugh,
too, after a bit," answered the woman,
all the time looking keenly about
her; and then in a hu , ted voice she
asked the child if her mother was at
home.
- "No—she's gone to see my auntie;
shall I call. her ?" replied Nannette,
jumping to her feet, and clapping her
hand, from a feeling as it, in some
way, she was to have her long-wished
for live baby.
"No, don't call her; and if you
want a baby that will cry, you must
be \ery quiet and listen.to me. Mark
me now—have you a quarter of
_a
dollar to pay for a baby.
" I guess so," answered Nannette;
" I've a lot of money up stairs."
And running up to her room, sue
climbed into a chair, took down her
money-box from a shelf, and empty
ing all her pennies and small silver
coin into her apron, ran down again.
" This is as much as a quarter of a
dollar, isn't it ?" •
The woman saw at a glance -that
there was more than that amount,
and hastily taking poor
_little Nan
nett's carefully hoarded pennies, she
whispered:—
" Now carry the baby up-stairs and
keep it in your own little bed. Be
careful to make no noise, for it is
sound asleep. Don't tell anybody
you have it until it cries. Mind that.
When you hear it cry, you may know
it is hungry."
Then the woman went hurriedly
away, and Nanette never saw her
again. -
Nannette's little heart was nearly
bieaking with delight at the thought
of having a real, live baby ; and
bolding the bundle fast in her arms,
Where the woman had placed it, she
began trudging - up stairs with it. Fi
nally pulling and panting, her cheeks
all aglow, she reached her little bed,
'and turning down the covers she put
in the bundle, and covering it up
carefully she gave it some loving lit
tle pats, saying softly, " Iffy biohy,my
real, little live baby that will cry!"
And then she carefully tripped out
of the room and down-stairs again.
Very soon Nannette% mother came
home, bringing her ai line large apple, '
which drove all thoughts of the baby
from her. mind; and it was only when
night came, and she , was seated at
the supper table with her papa and
mamma, that she remembered her
baby ; but at that time, suddenly,
from somewhere that was surely in
the house, came a baby's cry ; and
clapping her bands, her eyes dancing
with joy, Nannette began to slide
down from her 'chair, saying with
great emphasis, " That's my baby."
Her mother laughed. " Your ba
by, Nannette?"
" Yes, mamma, my ; baby; don't
you hear it cry ? 'Tis Wungry 1" And
she started to run upstairl, but her
mother called her back. ,
" Why, Nannette, what ails you?
What do you meat, about yqur baby ?'1
she asked in surprise.
`~' Why, MY BMW, mamma 1
bought it for a quarter of a dollar 1
a baby that cries—not a mis'ble make
b'lieve baby. Oh, how it does cry 1'
it mist be awful hungry 1" And i
away she darted up the stairs.
ller father and mother arose from
their seats In' perfect amazement,
and followed their little girl to. her
room, where, lying r upon her bed,
was-a bundle from wichh came a ba
by's ,cries. • Nannette's mother began
to unfasten the, wrappings, and,' sure
enough there was, a wee little - girl
not more than three weeks old look.
ing tip at them with two great wet
eyes.
Of course, Nannette was question.
ed, and she related all she could , re
member of her talk with the' woman
from whom she bought, the baby.
lier papa said perhaps the baby had
been stolen, and that something had
been given to it - to make it keep.
-
"• But what - shall we. do with it?"
asked both father and other. "Do
with it ?" cried Nannette. "Why,
it's my , baby, mamma I I paid all
my money for it. It cries, it does.
I will keep it always."
So it was decided that the baby
stay, if nobody came to. claim it,
which nobody ever did, although
Nannette's papa , put an advertise
ment in a; newspaperabout it.
It would take a larger book than
"Wide Awake" in which to tell all
of Nannette's experiences in taking
care of "my baby,"_as she called the
little girl, whom she afterward nam
ed 'Victoria, in honor of the then
young queen of England. yictoria
is now a woman, and sh lives, as
does Nannette, in the cit y of Phila.
delphia. She has a little girl of her
own " mos' six," who is named Nan-
nette for the good little" si4er moth
er," who, once upon a time, bought
her mamma of a strange woman for
a quarter of a dollar, as she thought.
And this other little NanOtte never
tires of hearing the rotoantio story
of the indolent " Didy " and the " real
little, live baby that will au."—Afa
ry. Wager-Fisher in Febrdary Wide
Awake.
Truth, Worst of All.
A man who said he was trying to
get sufficient money together to reach.
Toledo, yesterday enter/ an office .
on Griswold street . nd to his story,
adding that 'his name wasiPacsar.
"Any relation to dulius i or Augus
tus ?" inquired the -CiLiZeN
" Well, no. I want to be honest
and square about this thin g, and I
tell you honestly that I itm not re
lated to either."
"Then I can't help you tiny. Yon
are nothing but a commpn sort of
plug, and it won't make any differ
erence whether you ever get to Toledo
or not. If you were I related to the
gieat Julius I should feel in duty
bound totelp you."
The man backed oat without an
other word, and entering the office
next door he walked up tto the QCCI.I
- with the remark :
.
"My name is Caesar, land I ami
closely related to Julius akict Augus
tus. Can you spare me ten cents to'
help me to-Toledo?"
. .i
" Sir, you are a base de iverl" re
plied the other. " You ae no more
related to Caesar than I am. Ila.d
you come in here and- told me a
straight,-truthful story, I should have .
given you a qur.rter. YOu. can go,
sir." - -
The man went out and pow be de
termined-to tell the truth! and noth
ing but the truth; Ilaltitig. the first
man that came along, be Old :
.-
"I have been telling folks that my
name. was Caesar; and tat I was
trying to collect money enough to
take-me to Toledo. Now, the ; real
Muth of the matter is that I am
named dark, and 1-. wanted - the
money- to buy whisky. That's the
solemn truth, and can yon help One
with ten cents ?" ','
"'Ten cents! Why yot base liar
andideceiver, build 31ou over to
the police!" exclainied the other.,
-"l've told you the truth."
'And it's enough to send you up
for six months! Pon't you dare ask
me for Money !"
IThe tramp sat ' , down n a cold
stone block, took his last hew of to
bacco and Mused
"I've lied and I've told the truth.
I've told , the truth and live lied. I
made as much one way as the other,
and nothing out of either. Looks
now as if I'd got to plaY deaf and
dumb or go to work ?"—,- retroit Free
Press.
The Boy's 'Rithmetie Lesson.
•
Several men were gathered at the
door of a blacksmith shbp on Cass
avenue, the other morni g, when a
s h
schoolboy not over nine
inn
of age,
came along with tears in his eyes,
and one or then group asked :
" What's the matte 4 boy—fall
• -
down ?" -
" N-no; but I've got t hard 'rith
metic lesson and
.I ex eel, to get
I-licked," was the answer
' " Let me see, I used th be a king
bee on fractions." - 1 - L
The man took the book, turned to
the page; and read :
" Rtme - I—Find,the le st, common
multiple of the denomin tors of the
fractions for the least ommon de
nominator. Divide this least com
mon denominator by each denomina
tor and multiply. lk)th t4rms of the .
fractions by the quotientiobtained by
each denominator." Ii
He read the rule aloud and asked
if anyone could understand it. All
shook their heads, and he then con
tinued : '1 ~
" Well, now, I think. I 611ould go to I
work and .discover the least uncom-
Mon agitator. I would then envolve
-a parallel according to the intrinsic
deviator and punctuate the thermome
ter."
" So would I l" answered every man
in chorus, and one of them added :
" I've worked 'cm out Ethat way a
thousand times."
Not-one of the men, Ilk of whom
were in business and had made money,
could even understand the working
of the rule, much less work examples
by it, and it was expected that a nine-,
year-old boy'should go to the black
board and do every •slim offhand;
--Detroit Free Press.
Kissing Eictraoidinaty.
Two Thousand ha an flour s
- t -
At a party of - young people in
Paris, conversation happened to turn
on the subject of kissing, and the
questiob was propounded who of the
young men present could boast of
having given or being; able to give
"his girl" the most kisies. I Various
were the replies this qaestion caller'
out. Finally a young,man and the
girl to whom he was bethrothed bet
200 that they could kiss 10,000 times
in ten hours, providing they would be
allowed to take an occasional glass
of wind "between.", Two persons .
were appointed a committee to count
the numberof - kisses,and work began.
During the first hour !they counted
2,000 kisses. Duitik the second hour
the kisses were not nea r ly as numer
ous, for the committee only counted
1,000. After the third( hour, during
which they managed to score but 750,
further operations Werel brought to a
sudden standstill.. The lips of the
young man were seized with a cramp,
and he was carried off ; in .a fainting
condition. The girl, a few days later,
was stricken with brain fever, which
nearly . carried her off tO a land where
kissing under any form is ,unknown.
MTh& the people who , had won the
bet deinanded their' money the par
ents of the girl refuseil to pay her
, share of it. The matter was then
taken to the courts, and there it wns
, 'decided that the bet mast be paid,
•
,
_ .. . .. . ,
. ~.
~.
...
1\ \
1 "1, .! ,
• : ..,
! - „
Pyramidal A
It is a saying of Tully, often (incit
ed, that there is no philosphical doc
trine so absurd as not to have found
at acme time a philosopher to-defend
it; and Sir William liamilpber goes
so far as to declare that every possi
ble view has been maintained con-
'eerning the leading facts of human
conseiciusness. All this seems suffi-
ciently .s trange, but the limit of fib;
imrdity is not yet reached. Every
thing about which men think is a nu
cleus for all sorts of absurd opinions.
Even so simple a matter as a tinge
pile, of stones, laid as with unmistak
able indications of human handiwork:
and design, made a subject foil - the
most glaring absurdities—absurdi
ties entertained not merely by :igno
rant and unthinking persons, but by
those
,who profess to be learneitsand
scientific. Professor Tyndall . says
in one of his published works that
there have been writers who main
tained that the pyramids of Egypt
were the production of 'natue, and
that this theory was defended With
such seriousness and show of learn-
ing that Alexander Von Humboldt
actually wrote at essay with the ex-
press Übject of refuting the notion.
When little Topsy was asked who
made her, and i replied, "1 'spects:,, 1
groiced," she needed " S S." instruc-.
tion, certainly, but her reply was,in
finitely less absurd than the thedry .
of.. scientists - that the pyramids
"growed."
One would think that with this
theory, exploded by a Von Hum
boldt; absurd theories respecting the
pyramids might cease. But the for,.
mer "scientific " absurdity seems to
have furnished not a caution against,
further absurdity, but an excuse
for one. A bOok has been recently
published in Chicago entitled, " The
Scientific and Beligious,. Discoveries
in the Great Pyramid." A still' larg
er work is published in Philadelphia
upon the same subject, entitled . 0 A.
'-Miraele in Stone, or the Great Pyra
mid of Egypt." The pyramid refer
red to is that of Gezeh. This pyra
mid is probably the most remarkable
of all, and indicates a .degree of
knowledge and. mechanical skill ex
isting at the time it was built, that
surpass in some respects the knowl
edge and skill of the present day.
The works mentioned deServe peru-
Mal as evidences of the scientific and
mechanical attainments of very.early.
i l times.
But this plain lesson to he learned
'from the study of the pyramid of
Gezeh is not the one which the books
referred to seek to impress. it is
not the knowledge and skill of the
Creator which this pyramid is said
to display. One ,learned professor
says of itr: " The . Great Pyramid is
the highest and holiest subject that.
can ever occupy a ,scientific society,
supposed now !under an increased.
body of evidence, to have been erect-.
ed under the eye of. Melchizedek,
and accordin , r to a 'design furnished
by divine inspiration." Having such
an origin, the building is said to be.
Constructed in such a manner as to
make the 'wisest men "draw their
breath with awe." The pyramid is'
declared to be synibolic throughout
It typifies the main facts of the old,
Jewish dispensation and likewise thq,
principal events of the Christian disi
pensation. It is .Messianie and those
who have discovered its true origin
*and symbolic character are filled
with the liveliest gratitude that the
Creator of the heavens and the earth
likewise built;a, pyramid' by which it
is shown conclusively to both saint .
and sinner that " tine science and the
Holy Scriptures are in perfect ac
cord." All`these results are made to
appear in these volumes by a scries
of minutely careftil measurements*
and computations. Even the Scrip
ture itself, not only in the Old* Tes
tament, but also, though less clearly,
in the New . Testament, is found mak
ing unmistakable reference to this
pyramid, so that while the pyramid
confirms the • Scripture, the Scripture
in turn Confirms the pyramid.
this is a very ingenious and. interest
ing theory, but seems to be a Pyra
mid absurdity quite as great as that
which Alexander Von Humboldt es
sayed to. demolish.
One of the Lieutenant-GOvernors
Of New York, became in his" old age
very eccentric if not slightly . insane.
He was very wealthy, but at the
same time very 'economical and 'pru
dent. Pharaoh-like he seems to have
desired to leavea monument in stone
of himself and . of his peculiarities.
Ile therefore cause all the stones
lon two hundred acres of
,land- to be
built into a monument thirty or for
ty feet high, over a grave dug for
I himself on the poorest part of his
farm. * It is Well known now • that the
monument,is a pile of stones made
by an eccentric old man ; but ifthe
time ever comes when some scientific
man shall maintain that that heap of
stones is a production of nature; we
hope f in the interest of common - sense
that ao sci, , ntific defendei of holy
writ will undertake to show that this
monument, was designed' and its
structure superintended by the. Cre
ator of the world in order to demon
,' trate the truth of his word.
I
"JAmes," my boy, called - Mr. Tilden
to his private secretary ;"James, my bey,
isn't it about time the announcement was
made in all the newspapers that I em
about to lead to the altar a beautiful and
accomplished youdg female of ,Kalama
zoo, or some other seaport? And, • see
here, James," called Mr. Tilden after the
retreating secretary , "s4rpose you add
this time, by way of variety, that she
lo'ves me for myselfi alone."—Cincinnati
Enquirer. 1, •
To have pretty girl of twenty re
call that piece of deviltry which she recol
lected. Mr. Gallagher had been guilty', of
when ho was a ten-year-old boy, and to
have her remind him of it before a lot of
people, naturally embarrassed him ; I ut
ho didn't feel half so badly as she did
when he made believe to lau , ,h at the re
miniscience and said, " Ah, yes; I recol
lect the scrape as Well as you do; though
it was almost thirty -years ago.".—Beaton
Post. • -
LITTLE Mrs. Pott-Hunthr—" Can you
tell me of any. one around here who has
any old . CbinaAck sell—r Pal old China,. 'you .
know Me County man (who thinks
ho is being. chaffed)—"No, sir; or
iva'am, I mean ; or—or whichever yowhe
don't know of any roand here as ; has'
any old ehany, but-tbere's a man doWn to
Bushkin as has some what belonged io
; 40 .1 1 1r
they A 9 Any,".-.itarper's
$l.OO per Annum In Advance.
IfIJMBER 41
II
THE COMMON LOT.
. .
Into alf Urea 'outs rain must fall,
Into all eyes vomit teardrOps' start.
Whether they fill as a gentle shower;
Or droi a, like tire, from an aching hesrt.
Into all hearts some sorroicniust creep,
Into all souls some doubtlngs must come,
Lashing. the Ir&VISII Of 'lf fell great deep..
From dimpling watersto seething foam.
Over all Pathways some clouds must lower,
Under all feet some sharp prongs spring,
Tearing the drab to bleeding wounds,
Or entering the heart with their bitter sung
Upon all brims rough winds most blow, •
Over ill.aboulders a moss must be lain,
Bowing the form in its lofty height
Down to the dust in bitter pain.
Into all hind's someAluty thrust, -
• Unto all arms some duty glycol; ' ' • :
Crushing the beirt with Its dreary weight, i '
Or lilting the soul frori earth to beaven.
Into all hearts and boMOs and lives ' I
God's dear sunshine comes streaming down,
Gilding the ruins of life's great vain— '
Weaviog for aft a golden crown.
The Surrender at Appomattox.
The Conqueror's Story of the Event, and
His Opinion of General
Lee-. Mee
ting of the Great Chieftains.
•
Courteiies Between the Op
posing Heroes--Grant's
Own Words.
"On the night befdre Lee's sur
render," said General Grant, 41 had
a Wretched headache—headaches to
whjelk I havet . been • subject—nervous
prostration,. intenselpersonal suffer
ing. But, suffer or not, I hal tokeep..
moving. I saw clearly, especially
after Sheridan had'eut off the escape
to Danville, that Lee must surrender
or break and run- into the mountains
—break in all directions and leave
us a dozen, guerilla bands to fight.
The object of -my campaign was not
Richmond. not the defeat of Lee in
actual fight,_ but to remove him and
his army out:of the contest. and, if
possible, to
.haVe. him use his influ
ence in inducing the surrender of
Johnston and the other isolated
•artnies. You see, the war v,as an
enormous strain upon, the country.
Rich as we were I do not see how we
could have endured it another year,
even froth a financial paint of view.
"So with these views I wrote Lee,
and opened the correspondence with
which the, world ' is tamiliar." Lee
does not'appear well in that corres-.
pondence, not nearly so well las be
did' in our subsequent interviews,
where his Whole laaring was t4t of
a patriotic and gallant soldier, con
cerned alone for the welfaie of his
army and his State. lf,received word
that Lee would meet in‘e at a point
within our lines near Stieridan's head
quarters. I bad to ride quite a dis
tance through a muddy countr. I
remember now that-I was conc erned
about
,my. ticrional appearance. I
had an old quit on, without my sword,
and. without:any diitinguishing mark
of - rank except the sboulder-Straps of
a lieutenant general 'on a 'woolen
blouse. I was splashed with mud in
my lOng ride. I .was afraid Lee
might think I meant to show -him
studied discourtesy by so coming- -
at least I
_thoright so. But I'bad no
other-clothes within reach; as Lee's
letter found me away'" from my base.
of I kept on riding until I
met' Sheridan: The General, - who was
one of the heroes-of the campaign,
and whose pursuit of Lee was per
feet in its generalihip and energy,
told .me where to find Lee. I reinem
her that Sheridan was impatient when
1 met him, anxious and suspicious
about the. - whole business; feared
there might be a plan i to escape; that
he- had Lee at his feet, and wanted to
end the business by going in and
forcing an- absolute surrender by
capture. In fact,' be had his troops
ready for such an assault when Lee's
white flag Caine within - his line.
• MELTING OF THE CHIEFTAINS.
4. 4 1 went up to the house where Lee
was waiting. I found him in a fine,
new, splendid uniform, which , only,
recalled my anxiety as to my own
clothes while on my way, to meet
him. I, 'expressed •roy regret that I
was compelled to meet him in so un
ceremodous a manner, and he re-
'plied that the only suit,he bad Avail-
able was- one which had been sent
him by some admirers in Baltimore,
and which he then wore for the first
time. We spoke of old friends in the
-army. I remembered haying seen
Lee in. Mexico. He was so much
higher in rank than. 'myself .at the
time that I supposed he had noyeeol
lection of me„ But be said' he re
-membered me.very well: Wc,talked .
of old times and exchanged inquiries
about friends. Lee then broached
the aubject of our meeting. k told
'him my terms and Lee, listening at
tentively, asked me to write them
doWn. I took out my ' manifold
order-book and pencil and wrote them
down. General Lee put on his glasses
and read them over. The. onditions
gave the officers their side-arms,
private horseS and personal baggage.
I said to Lee, that I hoped and be
iliev&l this would be the close of the
war. - lhat it was most important
that t men should go home and go
t1::t k. and the government would
not; throw any obstacles in the way.
Lee answered that it would have a
most happy - effect and accepted the
terms. I handed over my penciled
memorandum. to an aid to put into
ink-and we resumed our conversation
about old times and friends in the
armies.
COURTESIES BETWEEN VIE OPPOSING
. HEROES,. •
"Various officers" came in—Long
street, Gordon ' Pickett, from the
South; Sheridan,, Ord "and otheis
from our, side. Some were old friends
—Longstreet and myself, for in
stance—and we had a general talk.
Lee no doubt expected. me to ask for
his sword, but I did not want.his
I,sword. It would only," said the Gen
eral, smilingly , " have gone - to the
-Patent,olllce, to be worshiped by the
Washington '.rebels. There was a
pause, when :General Lee said that
most-of 'the animals in his cavalry
and artillery were owned by the
privates, and he would like to know,
uuder i the terms, whether they would
be regarded as private property or,
the piciperty oi the government. I
said that under. the terms of surren
der they belonged.to the government.
General - Lee 'read over the letter and
said that was-so. I then said to the
general.that I helieyed and hoped
this - was the last battle of the-- war; • •
that - Tait tbe•witidOitOr:tbase men .
getting bione — ind 'to Work as soon as
possible, andithit I woulagive orders S •
to allow auysoldier or Officer claim-,
ing herke or mile - to" take it.. ,
General Lee showed some emotion at
fe6ling which tali° shared=.
tinditaldlt would haveil most happy-.
etTect.' . The . interview-' ended and / -
gave orders for 'rationing - his troops. • •
The next day I met Lee on horse- -
• back and we had a keg. talk. In that
conversation urged upon Lee the
wisdom of ending the war by the '
surrender - or the.ether •
ed him to use his
,iniluence with the
people of . the. , Sotith- . -aii - influence,
that, was supreme—to bring the -war.
to an end. - General Lee said that his
campaign in Virginia was - tte last .
organized .resistanee which the South •
- was capable making,- - that I might
have to march a good., deal-and -
counter isolated commands here and
there ; but there was no longer any
'army which could. make a stand. I
told Lee Lee that this .fact only .. made his
responsibility greater, and any fur.; • .
ther war would be a crime. I asked
him to go among the Southern people •
and use his influence to have all men:. • ,
under arms surrender -ton the .sanie -
terms given to the Arm}; of Northern._ •
Virginia. ' lie replied -le. could not ,
• do sd without
.consultation' with;
President Davis. I was sorry. I . -
saw that. the Confederacy had gone
beyond the
. reach of President Davis, ","
and thittliere was nothing that could
be done except what Lee - couid do to it
benefit the:Southern people. I was
. 1 .1
anxious to get them. hew - and have .
cur . :willies go to--their homes • and
But- Lee would not 'move
without Davis, and, as -a -matter of
fact, at that time, or soon after,' Davis
was a fugitive in the woods; _
I •
GRAN T - 13 OPINION OP LEE.
" Lye•was of a s Slow, conservative,
cautions nature, without imagination
or humor; always the . ".tiame, -with
grave dignity- -I never could see in
his. achievements what justifies this. '
, reptitati6n. The illusion that noth
ing but beavy odds beat him will not
stand the ultimate light of history. I ;
know it-is not true. Lee -was a good
deal of- !a: beadquirter‘
desk general; from whit 1 can hear,:
and from. what his officers say. Ile
'was almost too old for tv3tiveservice
—the_ hest service - in the field. ,At
-the time of the surr,ender_ he was 58
or 59 and Was-43. .
Eli
" His officers used to, say that he
posed himself, that he was retiring
and exclusive ' _and"'_and"'that his, ben"-
quarters were difficult" of access.. I
remember when the - commissioners
mine through our lines to treat, just
before the surrender, - that. one of
them remarked on the great differ
ence between our headquarters,and
Lee's. I always kept open tiou4e.at -
headquarters, so far ss the army was'
concerned: '
"My anxiety,". said the . General.
" for some time before Richmond felt
was lest Lee should 'abandon:it. 3ly
pursuit of Lee was:hazardous. I was.
in a- position "of extreme difficulty.
You see I was marching away from
my supplies, while. Lee was falling
back on his, supplies. ..I.f Lee had
continued his flight, another day • I
-should have had to abandon "the pur
suit, fall -back to Danville,.build the
railroad and -feed my ~army. .5o far
,as my supplies were concerned, was
almOst at my last gasp Irlieri the stir
render took ,place.7:—...Proqi R.
Young's "Around_the .World With
Grant."
What a
In a prison al: New Bedford, :Hass.,
there now is a man whom we call
Jim, and who is b. prisoner on dlife -
sentence.' Up to last spring he w
regarded as a - desperate, dangerous!
man, ready for a rebellion- at any .
hour. - He planned - general - opt
break, but was " given away 1 ' by one:
-of the • conspirators.
. - He planned a
general mutiny or rebellion and was ,
again betrayed. He then kept his
own counsel, and, while never refus
ing to.obey orders, he obeyed like a
man, who only - needed backing- to
make -him refuse to. - -One - day in
June a party of strangers came to.
the institution.
.one was an old gen- :
tleman, and the other - ladies, and two
of the ladies- had small children. The
guide took one• of the - children -on his
arm, and the other: -walked until the .
party came to climbing thii stairs.'
Jim :wasworking nearby, sulky and
morose as evbr, • when the guide said
to him
." Jim, won't •you help this little -
girl.up the st i airs?" • .•
The convict 'hesitated, r'a scowl on
his face . , and the littlel•gia held her
arms_oyt to him, and said _
" Ifpyou w 4,1 I piess kiss you."
••*••1* scowl vianished in an instant,
and he lifted the child up as tend9rly •
as a 'father; - Malt' way up the stairs
she kissed him. At the head of the'
stairs she said :
1' Now you've got to•kiss me, too."
'lle blushed like .a woman, looked'
into her-innocentlace,',and.then kiss-.
ed her cheek, and before_ he reached
the foot of the stairs-again the matt
had teats in his - eye's. Ever, since
that:day`he his been a
,changed man,
and no one in the place gives less:
trouble.' Maybe in his far-away West- -
ern home he h'as a Matie of his owl'.
`No one knoWs. for, he-newer reveals
his inner life; bu the' change - so
quickly Wrought by a - child proves
that'he has a heart, and !gives . hope:
that he may forsake his evil ways.
=-ArPhapjf.'.
~•,,Thoughtful ThoUghts.
PENIFENCF: is God's own medicine.
PATRED. is. like fire- 7 it makes even
light rubbish deadly.
SOME people use their conscience chief
ly to judge others by.
Daxs~.Eea, oielitude and remorse are a
grim and hateful company. - _'
T E test of moral character is not
_in
fallibility but recuperative power.
OFTEN a reserve that hides a bitter hu
miliation seems to be haughtiness,.
MEN's muscles move -better‘vrhen their
souls are making merry Music.'
THOSE who trample on the helpless are
disposed to cringe to the,powerful.- •
HOPE softens sorrow, brighteirlit plain
surroundings and.eases bard,lor.
A. s. .'s good breeding is the best se.
curity against other people's ill manners.
HE hai mastered all things who has
combined the useful with the tgreeable.
Its who laughs at:emelt - 3r sets his heel
on the neck of religion and godlinesS.
. WiTnot:r contentment there is no
wealth, s►nd Without it - there is no pov
erty. -
BE constant in what is good, tut be
ware of being,ottstinatein anything that is
SIN produces fear, fear leads to bond
age{ and bondage makes all our diaries
irksome.- • . ,
;\ ' MAN has to go out and seek hii Path:;
woman's path usually lies close under her
ONLY What We , have wrought into ;our
characters during life can we take away
with uv.
A WISE men watches .the devoTopplent
()Pi his. plane, awl Oen ° bends !Oi l ever.
give to waiting. • - •
uld Do"