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BY W. BLAIR,
A. elect p
THE LANGUAGEfff THE BELLS.
Bt .GEORGE W. BIINGAY
Down in a peaceful 'sylvan dell,
Echo responding to the bell,
Repeats thAall to rise, to rise,
Before the sun has lit the skies.
The the time, the time has come;
-To toil, to toil, to toil; the hum
Of wheels whispers 'tis well, 'tis well,
-Obey the morning workshop bell!
~'Tis noon,, gone is the dew that fell;
The hollow sky, like a vast bell,
Is 'ringing with the cheerful chime
~ Of music, like the rythmic rhyme
if - singiriglArds, of singing sins,
Or ringing woods, or ringing woods,
To heed the welcome dining bell!
Day closes like a closing shell, •
The silence•broken by the bell
Gives place to tones that fill the air,
Another day has passed away ;
The evenings gray, like nuns to prz , y,
Come not to dwell, come not to dwell,
'says the evening bell, the evening•bell
Two loving heart 9 with rapture swell,
The soft notes of a cooing bell
Sound sweetly to the list'ning ear-:
"0 darling dear, time's near—'tis here!
Swift flying, happy, golden hours
Come, crowned With snow-white flowers,
Through life. sweet wife, we'll dwell
In love," rings the sweet wedding bell.
Loud clanging like an angry knell,
At midnight hear the awful bell ;
Loud and louder, nigh and nigher,
Ringing, ringing, fire ! fire I fire! fire I
Awake! arise! the crimson skies
Seem all ablaze? a banner flies,
Of flame,- where stormy t empests swell
"Put out the fire!" exclaims the bell.
Soft sounds of love and duty tell
The heart attuned to a sweet bell,
That beats in holy harmony,
And throbs with joyful ecstacy
To worship here—to worship here
With contrite soul and heart sincere.
" 'Tis here the Christian loves to dwell,'"
Exclaims the cheerful Sabbath bell.
THE HEAVY BURDEN.
BY S. A. N
"Rather a heavy burden, isn't it, my
Clarence Spencer to whom the words
had been addressed, turned from the led
ger; and looked towards the speaker.—
Clarence was a young man—not more
than five and twenty—and was book-keep
er to tiolomon Wardle. It was Mr. Solo
mon Wardle, a pleasant-faced, keen-eyed
man of fifty, who had spoken.
' "A heavy burden, isn't it, Clarence?"
And still the young man was'silent.—
Ills looks indicated that he did not com
prehend. He had been for some time
bending over the ledger with his thoughts
far away; and that his thoughts were not
pleasant ones, was evident enough from
the gloom on his handsome face.
"My dear boy, the burden is not only
heavy now, but it will grow heavier and
heavier the longer you carry it."
"Mr. Wardle, I do not comprehend
"Ah, Clarence !"
"I certainly do not."
"Didn't I call at your house for you
this morning ?"
Clarence nodded assent.
"And didn•'t I see and hear enough to
reveal to Me the burden that you took
with you when you left? You must re
member, my boy, that X am older than
you are, and that I have been through
the mill. You find your burden heavy;
and I have no doubt that Sarah's heart
is as heavily laden as you own."
And then Clarence Spencer understood;
and the morning's scene was present with
him,as it had been present with him since
leaving home. On that morning he bad
had a dispute with his wife. It had oc
curred at the breakfast table. There is
no need of reproducing the scene. Suffice
it to say,that it had come of a mere poth
ing,- and had grown to a cause of anger.
The first had been a look and a tone;--
then a flash of impatience ; then a rising
of the voice ; and then another look ; the
voice rose higher ; reason was unhinged ;
passion gained sway ; and the twain lost
sight of the warm, enduring love that lay
smitten and aching deep down in their
hearts, and felt for the time only the pass
ing tornado. And Clarence remembered
that Mr. Wardle had enterred the house
and caught a sight of the storm.
And Clarence Spencer thought of one
thing more—he thought how miserably
unhappy he had been all the morning ;
and he knew not how long his burden of
unhappiness was to be borne.
‘,Flonestl,y, Clarence, isn't it a heavy
and, thankless burden ?"
The bookkeeper knew that his employ
er was his friend, and that he was a true
hearted Christian man ; and after a brief
pause he answered Ur. Wardle,
it is a heavy burden."
"My boy, lam ving venture upon
bit of fatherly counsel. I hope I shall
not offend ?"
"Not at all," said Clarence. He wine
.ed a little, as though the probing gave
him new pain..
"In the first place," pursued the old
man, with a quiver of emotion in his voice
"you love your wife ?"
"Love her ? Yes passionately."
- "And do you think she loves you in re
"I don't think anything about it—l
"You know she loves-you?"
"Then you must admit that the trouble
of this morning came from no ill-feeling
"Of course not."
"It was but a surface squall, for which
you, at least, are very sorry ?"
A moment's hesitation, and then
yes ; I am heartily sorry."
"lbw, mark me, Clarence, and answer
honestly—Don't you think your wife is as
sorry as you are ?"
"lirannot doubt it."
'And don't you tbilik — ghe NT-SiftVwfiFig
all this time 2"
"Very well. Let that pass. You know
she is bearing her part of the burden ?"
"Yes—l know that."
"And now, my boy, do you :comprehend
where the heaviest part of this is lodged?"
Clarence looked u .on his interlocuter
"If the storm had all blown over, and
you knew that the sun would shine when
you next entered your home, you would
not feel so unhappy ?"
"But," continued Mr. Wardle, "you
fear that there will be..gloom in your home
when you return."
"The young man bowed his head as he
murmered an affirmative. •
"Because," the merchant added, with
a touch of parental sternness in his tone,
"you are molted to carry it there 27 •
Clarence looked up in surprise.
carry it ?" = -
"Aye—you have the' burden in your
heart, and you wean to carry it home. -=--
Remember, my boy, I have been there,
and I know all about it. I have been very
foolish in my lifetime, and I have suffer
ed. I suffered until I discovered my fol
ly, and then I resolved that I would suf . -
no more. Upon looking the matter square
ly and honestly iu the face, I found that
the burdens which had so galled me had
been self-imposed. Of course, such bur
dens can be thown off. Now you have
resolved that you will go home to your
dinner with a heavy heart and a dark face.
You have no hope that your wife will meet
you with a smile. And why? Because
you know that she bas no particular cause
for smiling. You know that her heart is
burdened with the :affliction which gives
you so much unrest. And so you-are ful
ly assured that you are to find your home
shrouded in gloom. And, furthermore,
you don't know when that gloom will de
part, and when the blessed sunshine of
love will burst in again. And why don't
you know ? Because it is not now in your
heart to sweep the cloud away. You say
to yourself, can bear it as long as she
can !" Ani I not right ?"
Clarence did not answer in words
"I know I am right," pursued the mer
chant, "and very likely your wife is say
ing to herself the same thing. So your
hope of sunshine does not rest upon the
willingness to forgive, but upon inability
to hear the burden. By-and-by it will
happen as it has' happened before, that
one of the twain will surrender from ex
haustion ; and it will be likely to be the
weaker party. Then there will be a col
lapse, and a reconciliation. Generally the
wife falls first beneath the galling burden,
because, her love is keenest and most sen
sitive. The husband, in such case, acts
the part of a coward. When he might,
with a breath, blow the cloud away, be
cringes and cowers, until his wife is forc
ed to let the sunlight in' through her
Clarence listened, and was troubled.—
He saw the truth, and he felt its weight.
He was not a fool, nor was he a Han—
During the silence that followed, he re
flected upon the past, and he called to his
mind scenes just such as Mr, Wardle had
depicted. And this brought him to the
remembrance cf bow often she had sob
bed upon his bosom in grief for the error.
The merehatd read the young man's
thought ; and lifter a time he arose and
touched him upon the arm.
"Clarence, suppose you were to put on
your hat and go home now. Suppose you
should think, on your way, only of the
love and blessing that might be; and with
this thought you should enter your abode
with a smile upon your face; and you
should put your arm's around your wife's
neck, and kiss her, an 4 softly say to her,
'My darling, I have Come home to throw
down the burden I took away with me
this morning. It is greater than I can
bear." Suppose you were to do this, would
your wife repulse you ?"
'Ash, my boy, you echo my words with
amazement that shows that you under
stand me. Now, sir, have you the cour
age to try the exreriment? Dare you be
so much of a man? Or,do you fear to let
your dear wife know how much you love
her? Do you fear she would respect and
esteem you the less for the deed? Tell
me—do you think the cloud of unhappi
ness might thus be banished? Oh, Clar
ence, if you would but try it!'
* * * * * *
Sarah Spencer had finished her work
in the kitchen, and in the bed-chamber,
and bad sat down with her work in her
lap. But she could not ply her needle.
Her heart was heavy and sad, and tears
wern in her eves-
Presently, she heard Lie fropt•door a•
A FAMILY NEWSPAPER--•DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, LOCAL AND GENERAL NEWS, ETC.
WAYNESBORO', FRANKLIN COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 30, 1874.
pen, and a step in the passage. Certain
ly she knew that step! Yes—her hus
band entered. And a smile upon his face.
She saw it through her gatheling tears,
and her heavy heart leaped up. And he
came and put his arms around her neck,
and kissed her; and he said to her, in bro
ken accents, 'Darlinig, I have come home
to throw down the burden I took away
with me this morning. It is greater than
I can bear?'
And she, trying to speak, pillowed her
head upon his bosom, and sobbed and
wept like a child. Oh! could he forgive
her? His coming with the blessed offer:
ing had thrown the whole burden of re
proach hack upon herself. She saw him
noble and 'generous, and she worshipped
But Clarence would not 'allow her to
take all the blame. He must share that.
'We will share it so evenly,' said he,
'that its weight shall be felt no more.—
And now, my darling, we will be happy.'
* * * * * *
Mr. Wardle had no need when Clar-
ence returne. to the counting-house, to
ask the result. He could read it in the
young man's beaming eyes,and in his joy
It was a year after this—and Clarence
Spencer had become a partner in the
house—that Mr. Wardle, by accident, re
ferred to the events of that gloomy morn
bosom, 'that was the most blessed lesson
I ever received. My wife knows who gave
it to me.'
And it serves you yet, my boy?'
`Aye; and it will serve us while we live.
We have none of those old burdens of an
ger to bear now. They cannot find lodg
ment with us. The flash and jar may
come, as in the other days—for we are
but human, you know—by,t the hears,
which has firmly resolved not to give an
abiding-place to the not be
called upon to entertain it. Sometimes
we are foolish; but we laugh at our folly
when we see it, and throw it off—we do
not nurse it till it becomes a burden.'
How precious is time, yet how lightly
esteemed. All the wealth in the world
cannot purchase it, and when once lost,
it never can be regained. Many, when
'they are about to leave this world and
bid farewell to the things of time and
sense, wake up to the real value and im
portance of time.
Thus it was in the case of Queen Eliz
abeth, who exclaimed in her dying mo
ments, 'Millions of money for an inch of
time.' But alas, all the wealth of her
kingdom could not purchase one moment
of time. Voltaire, the infidel, when he
was about to depart this life, exclaimed
with the utmost horror to his doctor,
am .abandoned by God and man.' He
then said to his doctor, will give you
half of what I am worth if you will give
me six months life.' The doctor answer
ed, 'Sir, you cannot live six weeks.' Vol
taire replied, 'Then I shall go to hell and
you will go with me!' and soon afterward
expired. Time is too precious to squander
away, so much depends upon the choice
we make here in this world of probation.
Every day we live we are forming our
charaCters for another world; we are eith
er fitting ourselves as vessels of honor or
glory, or as vessels of wrath for destruc
tion. God in His infinite mercy and love
has given us a short space of time to pre
pare for eternity. Oh, eternity, eternity,
'thou lifetime of God.' Surely' the great
care and object of our lives should be to
prepare for eternity. 'What is' life? It is
even a vapor that appeareth for a little
time and then vanisheth away.'
BUSINESS MAXIMS.—CaIUtiOa is the fa
ther of security.
He who pays before-hand is served be
If you would know the value of a dol
lar try to borrow one.
Be silent when a fool talks.
Never speak boastingly of your busi
An hour of triumph comes at last to
those who watch and wait.
Word by word Webster's big diction
ary was made.
Speak well of your friends—of your en
imies say nothing.
Never take back a discharged servant.
If you post your servants upon your af
fairs they will one day rend you.
Do not waste time in useless regrets o
Systematize your business and keep an
eye on little expenses. Small leaks sink
Never fail to take a receipt for money
paid, and keep copies of your letters.
Do your business promptly. and bore
not a business man with long visits.
Law is a trade in which the lawyers
eat the oysters and leave the clients the
Rothschild, the founder of the world
renowned house of Ruthschild & Co., as
cribes his success to the following:
Never have anything to do with an un
Be cautious and bold.
Make a bargain at once
Fight the weeds as you would fight a
fire. Do not let them get beyond your
control. Kill them while in the seedleaf.
On loose,mellow soil,a fine harrow,if used
just as the weeds are breaking through
the soil,will kill them by the million;but if
delayed few days in warm growing weath
er it will have comparatively little effect.
Never reveal thy secrest to any except
it as much their interets to keep them as
it is your%3 that they should he kept.
We seldom repept of talking too little,
but ,very often for talking too much.
MEETING. AND PARTING.
We walked beneath the low-voiced trees
And heard the cries of birds that broke
The silence, falling on the breeze ;
And neither turned, and neither spoke
We met the river; saw it run
To kiss the warm shore - by our Bide ;
We watched the spirit of the Bun
Float down a red shield on the tide.
We wandered on and down, and came
To where the waters thundering broke
Aslant the crag, a sea of flame; •
And neither turned, and neither spoke.
We parted in the summer noon;
A sweet, round arm was lifted high;
A wanderer went forth alone ;
And one, a maid, went back to die.
[Published by Request,
Hints to the Public Schools.
Now that the public school examina
tions and exhibitions are "ust over,it
be worth while to call public attention to
,one or two points in which their manage
ment, as it seems to us, is largely suscep
tible of reform. Our people are taxed
more heaVily than any other nation for
the free education of their children, and
it is their right to see that the whole ob
ject does not fall short of its end from the
creeping into the syStem.of the national
display to solid substance. The chief way
in which this is shown is the system of
preposterous cramming, to which we have
formerly called attention, practiced espe
cially in the higher grade of schools. The
pupil is regarded only as a probable can
didate for a teacher, and the sole aim of
his instruction is to qualify him to bear
examination on certain textbooks which
he may have to teach, but on all subjects
of useful knowledge outside of these he
remains in absolute ignorance. The a
mount of 'memorizing required to pass
these examinations is so large that no ex
planation can be given by the teacher.
Eleven or twelve text-books are frequent
ly placed in the hands of young girls of
sixteen at one time, when competing for
rank in graduation. It is evident that
either the brain is injured by such unrea
soning force-work or the work is left un
done. Another point in which this false
deference to display is shown is the dress
worn by the young girls at graduation,
which both here and in neighboring cities
is often of the style and value of that of
a handsomely dressed bride. * * *
Bad as this is, worse remains behind.
Certain itinerant showmen, with an abil
ity to turn a ready penny by their shrewd
wits, have chosen the children and teaoh
era of the public schools, first in one city
and then in another, as their ready vic
tims. They find out that a school wants
a piano or an ornamental desk, and pro
pose—for a consideration—to show the
scholars how to procure it. Whereupon
a drama is planned, illustrative of the re
ligion of the pagans, or of the Great Re
pnblic, and the children are given roles
to fill of Virtues or Vices, Goddesses of
Liberty, Rebellion, or Heaven knows
what not. The school-room is turned in
to a theater and green-room ; the show
men for it consideration furnishing
scenery, music, etc. Books are thrown
aside or hurried over. Scholars and tetch
ers (poor, tired creatures, glad of even
this vapid excitement in their dreary
drudgery) grow wild with enthusiasm for
weeks and months until the exhibition is
given. In some schools the whole busi
ness of teaching has been surrendered to
this work, and the pupils not engaged in
it sent home. Now, while it is very desi
rable that the schools should have pianos
or ornamental desks, is it the scholars'
business to lay aside their studies in order
to procure them? But that is not the gist
of the matter. While we always heartily
urge the ennobling influence of the drama
us it should be, we protest against the
vulgarity, the debasing effects of such
shows as this. While we can understand
the motive which leads a pure woman,
feeling that she has a high calling to a
great art, to sacrifice much personal reti
cence and reserve (at how great cost is
known only to herself) order to follow
that art, we do not understand the motive
which can induce mothers to thrust inno
cent,modest little girls into precocious van
ity and stage trickery before a multitude of
people for such a paltry end. The effect'
of one such exhibition is enough to taint
and deteriorate a child's mind for life.
The children in our public schools, as
a rule, belong to two classes : those whose
parents are quiet, respectable people, not
too w,..11-to-do, that desire for their girls
and boys as much solid, practical knowl
edge as their three or four years of school
ing will give, which knowledge will help
them to earn their livings, and make them
useful, God-fearing men and women.—
What end of this purpose will be served
by making their boys and delicate little
girls puppets in these raree shows to Ahicli
any rough from the street may gain ad
mission by paying a quarter? The other
class consists, unfortunately, of children,
whose birl h and association have led them
to place undue value on such goods of
life as may be expressed by cheap shows,
tinsel, and melodrama. There is no need
for us to push them on in their downward
path, or foster au already vitiated taste,
to their undoing. We commend these
considerations to the trustees of our schools,
who have been, as it seems to us, willfully
blind to thern.—N. Y. Tribune.
POTATO Buo.—A correspondent of the
the Beaver Times says: Please let your
readers know that if they will put a few
grains of buckwheat in every bill of pota
toes, it will save their crop from the potato
bug. Try it and you will be surprised to sec
what a perfect remedy it is.
A Chat about Sleep.
A very thin young lady, of about thir
ty years, came to consult me about her
'skin and bones.' I had frequently met
her when she seemed even more emacia
ted,but now she 'would give the world to
be plump.' Sitting down in frout•of me,
she began with :
'Don't you think, doctor, that I look
very old for twenty?'
I admitted that she looked rather old
'Can anything be done for me? -What
can I take , for it? I should be willing to
take. a hundred bottles of the worst stuff<
in the world, if I could only get some fat
on these bones. A friend of mine was
saying yesterday that be would give a
fortune to see me round and plump.'
`Would you be willing to go to the
Cliff Springs in Arkansas.?'
would start to-morrow.'
'But the waters are very bad to drink,'
'I don't care how bad they are; I know
I can drink them.'
;ke you whether you were willing
to golo Arkansas Springs in order to test
the strength of your purpose. It is not
necessary to leave your home.. Nine thin
people in ten can become reasonably
plump without such a sacrifice.'
'Why, doctor, I am delighted to hear
it, but I suppose it is a lot of some awful
`Yes, it is a pretty bitter dose, and has
don't care; I -would take it if it was
ten times as bad. What is it? What is
the name of it?
'The technical name of the stuff is
'Bedibus Nineo clockibus.".
`Why,.doetor, what an awful name! I
am sure I shall never be able to speak it.
Is there no commom English word for
`Oh yes. The English of it is, 'you
must be in bed every night at nine o'-
clock.' We doctors generally use Latin.
`Bedibus Nineo' clockibus' is the Latin
for 'you must be in bed every night by
'Oh, that is dreadful. I thought it was
something I could take.'
'lt is. You must take your bed every
night before the clock strikes nine.'
'No; but, what I thought was that you
would give me something iu a bottle to
'Of course I know very well what you
thought. Thies the way with all of you.'
One person eats enormously of rich
food till his stomach and liver refuse to
budge; then he cries out. 'Oh, doctor,
what can I take? I must take something.'
Another fills his system with tobacco
until his nerves are ruined, and then,
trebling and full of horrors he exclaims.
'Oh, doctor, what shall I take? I write a
prescription for him—Quitibus Chawibus
Tut tell me, what time do you go to
`Generally about twelve o'clock.'
`Yes, I thought so. Now, if you will
go to bed every night for six months at
nine o'clock, without• making any other
change in your habits you will gain ten
pounds in weight and look five years
younger. Your skin will become fresh,
and your sphits improve wonderfully.'
do it. Though, of course, when I
have company, and during the opera, I
can't do it.'
It is regularity that does the business.
To sit up till twelve o'clock three nights
of the week, and then get to'bed at nine
o'clock four nigh ts,ooe might think would
do very well, and that at any rate it
would be 'so far so good.' I don't think
this every other night early, and every
other night late, is much better than ev
ery night late. It is regularity that is
vital in the case. Even in sitting up one
night a week deranges the nervous system
fir the whole week. I have sometimes
thought that those people who sit up till
eleven or twelve o'clock every night get
on quite as well as those Who turn in ear
ly six nights, and then sit up once a week
till midnight. Regularity in sleep is ev
ery whit as important as regularity in
At length my patient exclaimed, 'Doc
tor, I will go to bed every night for six
months before nine o'clock, if it kills me,
or rather if it breaks the hearts of all my
She did it. Twenty-one pounds was the
gain in five months. Her spirits were
happily enlivened, and she spent half her
time in telling her friend of her delight
with the new habits, and she had no furth
er cause to complain of skin and bones.
A. Comet AND P 4510. —ln the year
1712, Whiston predicted that the comet
would appear on Wednesday, 14th of Oc
tober, at five in the moroing,and that the
world would be destroyed by fire on the
Friday following. his reputation was
high, and the comet appeared. A number
of persons got into the boats And barges
on the Thames, thinking the water the
safest place. outh Sea and India , stock
tell. A captain of a Dutch ship threw
all his powder into the river,that the ship
might not be endangered. At noon, after
the comet bad appeared, it is said that
more than one hundred clergymen were
ferried over to Lambeth; to request that
proper prayers might he prepared, there,
being none in the church service. People
believed that the day of judgment was at
hand, and some acted on this belief, sure
as if some temporary evil was to be ex-,
pected. There was a prodigious run on
the bank, and Sir Gilbert Heathcote, at
that timerthe head director, issued orders
to all the tire offices in London, requir
ing them to keep a good look-out, and
have a particular eye upon the Bank of
The dressing-gornis the most lasting
cif all garaleata—it vas.rn out.
River of Life and River of Death.
There are two principal rivers .of earth
I shall call attention to. They are not
natural rivers, but symbolic. They both
traverse this earth, but their origin or
source is in another world. The one call
ed Life has its fountain beneath the Rock
of Ages. It gushes forth from the throne
of God, and so winds and meanders as to
run near every man's house.
The other river, which I have denomi
nated Death, also has its origin in anoth
er world. Everything has its opposites,
and these two rivers are in direct opposi
tion, one rising in the upper world of
light,the other in the lower world of dark
ness. Reader, we desire to call yout at
tention to the river of Death. It is swell
ed by various tributaries the most import
ant of which is the stream of drunken
ness. This stream—bears annually over
sixty thousand men from America down
to death. And well may it be called the
stream of Death,since the drunkard death
leads to the second death. What a terri
ble sight to see husbands, fathers, broth-
ere, sons, an even women going own tte
river, and every day becoming more loath
some as the plague spots indicate new
phases of the wretched complications
which drunkenness unites with other vices.
The great problem of the age is, bow
shall the stream of sixty thousand Amer
ican_men _ annually be stopped. Or who
shall induce the men to stop and turn,
and how shall it be done? Can an arm
f' flesh-do-it Isit possibie_fur human_
organization to accomplish the work ?
Let the experience of the last fifty years
answer. What new efforts can we make?
I shall answer—mothers, wives, sisters
and daughters may, under God, do it,but_
they must make home happy. Home,
the place when-lit up by genial society cf
loved ones,. possesses more charms than
the ruddy wine that glitters in the cup.—
The prayers of the pious women of old
were heard,and why may not the exertions
of women of the present be attended with
salutary results ? -Let the women all act
in this struggle for freedom from strong
drink, so that it can be truthfully said of
each, "She bath done what she could."
This effort at hour amongst the women
is the hope to be relied upon. Home in
fluence, the influence of prayer with, and
for husbands, brothers, sons and fathers,
may do the great work-. We know the
next generation can be reared in sober
ness if the women will all work.
The Little Worries.
BY MM. L E. M'CONAUGRY
"Their goes another china-cup," said a
mother in an excited tone, and with a
general flush over her face, as she caught
the little sacred culprit by the arm and
gave him a severe shaking. Then with a
push she sent him to the nursery for an
"I believe that child does more mischief
than two ordinary children. He is forev
er breaking dishes, or soiling his clothes,
or falling down stairs. lam quite out of
patience with his carelessless,"she exclaim
ed, as she proceeded to pick up the frag
ments. Her invalid brother leaned back in
h?s chair, and looked oh sadly. At leagth
It will not make much difference twen
ty years hence,Kate,if your boy did break
your china, and leave finger marks on
your windows and ballusters, and get his
clothes soiled. But it will make a vast
difference with him howyou take these tit
tle worries. Every tune, every word,and
every ges ture is leaving its finger mark on
Frank said no more, but turned again
to the book he was reading; yec the mother
could not forget his words. Was she, in
her zeal for order and neatness in her
house leaving black finger maks on th e
soul, of the child so dear to her? Was
he catching her petulant tones and angry
words, and would he one day wine her
soul by some exhibition of the result of
her seed sowing? Was she slowly and
steadily alienating his heart from his
'mother, and would he soon begin to look
forward impatiently to the time when he
might go forth from under the parental
roof Ah !if she was not all in all to
her little boy, she never would be very
near to the heart of her growing-up one.
The mother who can learn well the lit
tle worries—who can wisely discriminate
between accidental and intentional mis
chief, and who can manage herself ac
cordingly, will get the strongest hold of
fie hearts of her children. And this mother
love has become the sheet anchor which
has kept many a wanderer from eternal
shipwreck. Some one said, "they never
knew a boy going to the bad, who began
his career by falling in-love with his
If you would have your old age sooth
ed and cheered by the loving attention of
your children, be watchful of your tones
and manner toward them. If you would
guard their various stations in life, see that
you live before them daily such a life as
you disire to see repeated in their experi
A. menagerie ekhibiter says lions range
in value from $1,400 to 84,000, and live
from eight to twenty years. The next
most valuable animal is the Bengal tiger,
which lives from fifteen to eighteen years.
African elephants range from $BOO to $4,-
000, and live to three-score years.
CELERY vs. IVEnvouswEss.—The Frac.
tical Farmer advises the use of celery as a
cure for nervousness,, and. avers he has
known cases where a care of palpitation of
the heart has been effected by a plentiful
use of this delicious salad. •
Abundance is a blessing to the wise;
The use of riches in discretion lies!'
Learn this, ye men of wealth—a heavy purse
In a fool's pocket is a heavy curse.
The flar. Itris chortening.
42,00 PER YEAR
- Money is hard to get and easy to spend.
There is peril in it, and there is blessed
ness in it. To the wise and good it is the
best of servants, to the weak and foolish
it is the most terrible of tyrants.
There are those who think it a fine
thing for a ruing man to spend his mon
ey with a careless, dashing freedom, and
the spendthrift is a character less despis
ed than the miser. But we think the weak
vanity which prompts the yOung man to
spend carelessly that with which he could
do so many noble and satisfying things,
is not more wise than that of the miser
who devotes all his thoughts to getting,
without any definate plan •of present or
All things are given that_ we may use
them far the general good as well as per
sonal needs. Hence all who do their duty
must toil with head or band. We should
take all the rest or recreation that the
body or mini requires, but while we can
benefit one person by precept or example,
we have no r*:ht to be careless or waste
' of time or money.
Carelessness in all its forms is wrong,
but carelessness in the spending of money
is the surest to lead to misery and shame.
Frugality and liberality should be joined.
The first is leaving off useless expenses,
the last is bestowing our savings for im
provement of others.
BEAUTIFUL AND TRUE.—WeII has a
writer said :—"Flowers are not trifles, as
one might know from the care God has
taken of them every where, not one bear
ing the marks of a pencil. Fringing the
eternal borders of mountain winters,grac
ing the pulseless beat of the gray, old
granite, everywhere they are harmonizing.
Murderers do not ordinarily wear roses
in their button-holes. Villains seldom
%rain vines over cottage doors." And an
other adds, "Flowers are for the young
and for the old, for the grave and the gay,
for the living and for the dead—for
all but the guilty, and for the guilty
when they are penitent."
PROVEMA—Count your very minutes;
let no time slip.
Pamper not the body; a youth wants a
bridle not a spur.
A fine coat is but .a livery, when the
person who wears it discovers no higher
sense than that of a footman.
Shun or break °frail disputes with in
feriors,lest they lose all respect for you.
The old fashioned women's crusade—
A boy's head and a fine toothed comb.
It is said that thole lowa grasshoppers
wink at Paris greon and smile at hot wa
A man it Stark county,lnd.pays his boy
ten cents a quart for potato bags, and the •
boy says that if next year is as good as
this he came buy the old man out.,x
Composition by a little boy. &hied :
The Horse—The horse - is 'a very meal
animal. It has four legs—one on each.
A French writer has cicribed a young
lady as a creature that ceases to hisg gen
tlemen at twelve and begins at twenty../
As a vessel is known by the sound,
whether it be cracked or not, so men are
proved by their speeches, whether they be
wise or foolish.
"Dear me, how finely he talks," said,
Mrs. Partington, recently, at a temperance
meeting. "I am always rejoiced when he
mounts the nostrils, for his eloquence'
warms every cartridge in my body,"
A down-east girl, who has strayed ou -- eN
to Sonora, writes to her father that the
strawberries out, there grow as large as
New Hamshire pumpkins. To find out
whether they are ripe, they "plug" them
as we do water melons.
Young lady—a word in your ear—only
a whisper, take 'off those thin delicate
shoes. Put on warm thick ones, if they
are not quite so handsome. Health is of
more importance than fashionable shoes.
Off with them ! Saire your health and
"The Comet! He is on his way,
And singing ashe flies ;
And whizzing planets shrink before
The spectre of the skies.
Ahl well may regal orbs burn blue,
And satellites turn pale,
Ten millions cubic miles of head,
Ten billion leagues of tail !"
According to the Lawrence _Eagle a
peace-loving husband of that city a few
months ago agreed to give his wife three
'dollars a week to maintain comparative
silence, deducting one cent for each i 3 uper
uous word she uttered. She now owes
him enough to pay the city debt. -
"No indeed I I wouldn't marry the
keeper of a crockery store, if I where you,"
said a young lady to a friend who vas
engaged to one of that respectable class of
citizens. "Why not r "Because .vour
husband would never be at home, as he'd
always be dealing in China." The ' wed
ding preparations went on just the same.
The observations of a married man have
led .to the conclusion that money put into
mirrors .• is a good. investment, as it af
fords a marvelous amount ' • of ,comforts
and gratification to • a woman. He
says his wife thinks just as much of consul
ting her glass when she ties on her apron
as when .she tied on her bonnet,and while
he goes to, the door at once when there
is a rap, she, exclaims, "Mercy! Joseph,
who is that ?" and
_dashes, for the look.-,