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Ml 91 'IWI
COLSIXUCR &. IILTCIIl.XSOA,
I WOULD RATHER BE RIGHT THAN PRESIDENT. IIenuy Clay.
EBENSBURG, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1859.
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tin iiciu:s, .Miisn:its, &.c.
i'r slitttrUn Rev. D. Hakbisuv, Pastor.
..i.iiiug every Sabbath morning at lo.l
cluck, mi 1 in the evening at i o'clock. Sal
School at D o'clock. A. M. Prayer uieet
.; r.iTv Thursday evening at 7 o'clock.
)l ,lit f.':i.iC'ifiil V't-irch Hkv. J. Shank,
'r mi-'mt in charge. Rev J. M. Smith, A
. :. Preaching every Sabbath, alternately
. i u tl.n in the moruing, or 7 iu the
Sabbath School at l o'clock, A. M.
; .. cr meeting cverv Tliursdav evening at 7
i i.i. r;.iu- ut
it i o l lul k.
. v.'. t
i I a ' i-Hi ii
1 i. k, 1. M. Prater i
'' j-.ii ty cxciiia,: of t.ii h i
vi-ry Tu.' 1 iv, 'i'iinrnl.iy ;
-.i' ' . i : .i c '. ii i ii s i'i
ill .- I.ool .t lo o 'I'M k.
i y-y i tv Frid i U'liin;'
i n r. Tj id.!' t veiling
I. !.!.. .. P.l-t-l.- Plr.tch-
.''til ill t tt 1 1 1 T lit 1 O l t I'M 1 .
' .'.' j il:.. !.t.i: Jkxkin.-.
'.! i S.'.b'.i.i'.ii eVnili at
.i. . i..d ..t i o'vlock. p. :j.
Ii... M. J. MiTiiii.:.!.. Pa-tor.
r y .i!t!,:ttii uioi liiu at 1 oj o'clock
.it 1 ii clot k in I he CM 11 in J.
i::ji:se5Mic; u iii.s.
r., , at 11 o'clock, A. M.
- ".'., nt 1 1 " P. M.
: ; r i. d.iilr. nt 5 o'clock, P. M.
'"-;.-;,. " ::t !j " A. M.
t. i'lic Mails from l'.ntler. Indiana. Strongs-
i X .. arrive on Tuesilav and Friday of
' lek. :tt 5 o'clock, P. M.
!.' '(. Kb 'ii-biirg'on Mondays and Thurs
'. ' -. at 7 o'clock. A. M.
ivli'Thc Mai's from NVwiiian's Mills. C;ir
iit'iwn. &c, arrive on Mondav and Friday of
h wick, at 3 o'clock. P. M.
Leave Kbensburg on Tuesdays and Satur-"-.
iU 7 o'clock. A. M.
S-U Post ORicc open on Sundays from 0
' ' o'clock, A. M.
r"'" Kxtiress Train, leaves
'! Express Train.
Mail Train, "
Jly of the Court. President, lion. (leo.
vli,i'. Huntingdon ; Associates, George W.
J-j-iiM. Richard Jones, Jr.
l'r; h'lnoturii. J oscph M 1 )onald .
ll'jtAier end Iircurdrr. Michael Hasson.
uer,jT. Ilobert P. Lilltoil.
it'uit'y Shfi-iJ'. George C. K. Zahm.
Ihfnct Aitornry. Theophilus L. Heyer.
I'-mniy CoMiiitiont't. Thomas M'Gunuell,
La Ui arc r, Abel Lloyd.
'ItI: ti 'Coiiimixiuiirrx. George C. K. Zahm.
i''n,xrl to (',miniginrr. John S. Rhey.
y.';.. ;,-fr. George J. Rodgers.
I'iur II,,, ate lUrector. Willlaia I'alnier.
I"-Hi' (I Ilnrro Michael M'Guire.
I'o,,r Jlvuse Treuturtr. George f. K. Zahm.
l',ir Ilowr Steward. James J. Kaylor.
il'rc'intile Ai'vraixer. Francis Tierney.
Au,l,trt. Rees J. Lloyd, Daniel Cobaugh,
t'ountu Sureeynr. Henry Scanlan.
' '(rnuer. Peter Dougherty.
Siit.rrinteitdent , Cum mo n Schools. S. B.
:iti:'siii'nri imi. nrrirr.ns.
yVic of thr J'iace. David II. Roberts,
I'linjnt. John D. Hughes.
T'jtcn Council. Andrew Lewis, Joshua D.
'frish, David Lewis, Richard Jones, Jr., M.
(U'rk to Council. James C. Noon.
.Jl'irouuh Tr,.,t,irr (!inrtre Gurlev.
.7 - n -
nih Matltrt. Davis & Lloyd.
X'-hool Director. . C. M'Cague, A. A.
'.rker, Thomas M. Jones, Reese S. Lloyd,
Iwitrd (ilass, William Davis.
irtamrtr of School Hoard. Evan Morgan.
Tut Collector. George Gurley.
Attrfj,,,!. T ll.ivtj
of i:i,rtion. l:iviil .1. Jones.
liuutrli.,! Ll..:.l 11 l..U..i.. .,,;..! C
i ' II Ml. IUMJVI l. i'Cllltfl
For the Sunday JJixpatclt.
"It Is Hard to be Olil uiil Poor."
KY WILLIAM KI.NU SADLER.
The following was .suggested by the ex
pression of a virtuous old man, much worn
with the fatigues of life and tottering wearily
toward the grave, who was called upon to pay
a tax to the nation for the privilege of retain
ing hi 3 meagre possessions, which were scarce
ly sufficient to secure for him a final respect.
While the reflective tear filled his age-dimmed
eyes when told he must pay the amount, he
uttered the heartfelt words, "It is hard to be
old and poor.''
How tearfully tender were whispered the
Ky a trembling, wearied sire, words
And the trees were bare
Ry the bleak nortli air
No warble was heard from the May-song birds
As we sat by the hearthwood lire.
'It is hard to be old and poor," he said,
And he keenly felt the smart,
For a rate, that day,
Was he called to pay
Then he geutly bowed his palsied head
To rest it near my heart.
'It is hard tft be old and poor,"' he siirhed,
For the world will take no thought"
I stroked with cure
His silvery hair
'The wise and good from want have died,
And kindness must be bought.''
"It is hard to be old and poor," he wept,
And as virtue wanned bis breast,
With trr tabling oicc
Sai l Le K- joicC,
My boy. in rf ul!i. an J now accept
My uu.de n:y I.irt rii.ic.-i. '
I: is !..;rd ! b ni l .!".l p'r:" bat know
Tru." v. c.ii'.h is . t" t t . :,-.',
A a ! all t';c i-t.Te
i f - of bir.
V. '; ilc. is ' ut i sh.r
To r. ar 'Tne i tiiu's art.
It is h rti i- b n!d ;'H'l poor," 't't truth ;
Ti.rce ti-nes ih.nl art my years
'Tv. ill be my pride
To call the guide ;
We Miiilcd o'tr joys of a well-spent youth,
And dried our mutual t'':ir".
S E L E C T H I S C E 11 A HY.
Judgv Wilson, in his l:ite curious, hut
very iiiaccuiato, work on America, isiptite
stiro that t.ur race is hastcniiiir to dissolu
tion, because of the rrttdual chanire from
the flesh rml brawn of Old England to the
nerve and inew of America. W hile this
is unite overstated, there is yet enough in
the contrast between Knrlihmen and
Americans to make us anxious enoiurh as
to the plivsicil conditions of our country
men. Absolutely one of the most hopeful signs
we have seen for a juarter of a century,
in regard to our people, is the fact that
the sober and respectable part of the com
munity are taking to amusements intel
lectual and physical. There is now a
world of hope "to encourage those of us
who for ten years have been trying labo
iiously to pursuade Americans to enjoy
themselves. We groaned inwardly while
negro minstrels and strychnine whiskey
represented the beautiful and the sublime
of American amusement. IJut we feel
like congratulating every man we meet, in
iew of the present movemeut for chess
That our readers may understand the
reason for our gratulation in regard to
cricket, we must analyze a little. Our
lavys have always been fond of athletic
sports, and their games, handed down by
tradition from unknown periods and ex
tending in a regular system over the en
tire year, are a euiious and interesting
study. The difficulty has been that as the
boy was changing into the man, he has
giveu up his manly, out-of-door sports and
become a recluse student, a care-worn, uu
recrcating business man, or a mere loun
ger, without spirit, aim or energy. Our
entire system of society and of life has
hitherto failed to carry wisely and well
our young men over the perilous bridge
from youth to manhood. The character
of mind and body thus acquired by our
young men is carried into mature life.
What volumes of brain in America ! what
thin limbs, pale faces, and shrunken mus
cles! what a fearful per centage of neu
ralgia, insanity and suicide ; what care
worn devotees of business, and what reac
tions of excitement, iu one class running
into over-heated religion, that even cler
gymen have striven in vain properly to
control, and in another into a recklessness
of dissipation that scatters health and
morals to the winds !
We are growing more serious than we
b.il l.nt. even that will show our
JIIU' " ,v - - "
readers that the mihject has relations more
important than they may yet have taken j
time to consider. The point to which we
are coming is, that hitherto Americans
have had no amusements which, cordially
approved by all, might be openly engaged
in, without interfering with man's respec
tability or their conscience, and thus the
health and cheerfulness of the country be
universally promoted. Fortius the games
must have something in them at once
manly intellectual, and exciting, and chess
within doors, and cricket without, seem to
furnish the ilcsuleratiun. Looking at the
matter as one of great importance, we have
been studying cricket. We fiud that the
authorities make it an outgrowth of club
ball, of which traces are found in England
which go back at least to 1344. JJut
cricket itself is said not to be mentioned
by name earlier than 1083, though it was
probably played much earlier. We can
not tell why it ha.- been so late of intro
duction in America, when our b jys bro't
with them almost everything else that is
played in Europe. One of the most touch
ing incidents, by the way, that we ever
remember, occurred in connection with a
game of marbles. At first, it will be re
membered, men alone went to California.
When (' jirnt lr& liegau to play marbles
in the streets in California, one man after
another stopiied to look at them, until
ipuite a crowd of hardy pioneers, scarcely
able to restrain their tears, were gathered
We hope to find every man occasionally
throwing down his hook, hi-s hammer and
his ledger, and "playing cricket." While
oT tlii.- subject, we will advert to the boat
clubs at our colleges to say lioth'uiir of
the licet we now have on the .Schuylkill.
This is al.-o an Ihig!h custom, worthy of
u:iivcr.il a tiu. V e are glad to m-c
Vale trying its Mivugih agiiii.-t Cam
biidge. The Apollo, the Hercules, and
the Antir.ous, as they appear in (Iieck
statues, were moulded from the men who
developed their muscles in the Olympic
and I.-t liLtiian games, and the brain is all
the cieaicr for a stout pull with an oar.
The cadets t:t West l'oint are able to
study night and day at the most t.htruse
mathematics without injury, because they
are drilled constantly in the open air, and
spend ten weeks of every year, without
Mtidy, in the hardest kind of exercise.
So we say again, there is great hope for
America. Common sense has been long
contending in vain with the fashionable
amusements, so called, which, without
really amusing, tended to the destruction
of both health and morals. It is indeed
encouraging to liud the same class of peo
ple who were formerly devoted to these,
now engaged in devising plans ol amuse
ment which combine intelligence, athletic
exercise and social enjoyment. It is a
uoble thing for a nation to have the sa
gacity to see a difficulty and the instinct
to apply the remedy.
There is a mysterious charm in those
simple words "Saturday night;" a charm
that "breathes to the heart, and o'er it
throws" associations of the sweetest and
most hallowed nature. All mankind, in
the weekly drama of life, play a varied
part, but Saturday night drops the cur
tain upon its exhausting scenes. It stills
the multitudinous hum of busy life and
trade, and brings tranquility and sweet
repose to the toil-worn and the weary. It
is the Lethean draught that diowns cares
and anxieties in forgetfulness. It releases
the soul from the earth, fills it w ith bright
and holy anticipations of the coming Sab
bath, and permits it to soar to J leaven,
there, amid "fields of living green," to
hold sweet communion with God and an
iiehold the tired laborer: llow joy
fully he wends his way toward his humble
dwelling. "This night his weekly toil is
at an end j" bright visions of home and
fireside flit athwart his imagination. A
lovintr kiss from a darling wife, and warm
eniKr:iH from "todlin wee ones" will wel
come his arrival. And as he pours the
hard-earned pittance into the careful mat
ron's lap, a grateful prayer ascends to 11 mi
who gives the daily bread, and ordained
that one iu seven should be a hallowed
dav of rest.
So with the professional man, he whose
brain is aching with long-protracted and
unremitted stud', whose wasted frame and
"Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
betokens the midnight vigils; he, too, as
Saturday night approaches, lays aside the
ponderous volumes, wherein is collected
"wisdom of ages," takes leaves, for awhile,
of philosophy or logic, turns into the more
o-enial and less intricate path of relaxation
and basks awhile in the "gladsome light
of domestic happiness.
On Saturday night the merchant and
thn banker close the huge ledger over
which, enclosed within the dingy vrall? of
a counting room, they pore from morning
till night, and seek their princely man
sions. The weary soul, released, as it
were, from a prison-house, exults with rap
ture upon the appproaching morrow, when
freed from sordid eares and troubles, it
may breathe the free, invigorating air of
Heaven, view the magnificent and ever
changing landscapes of nature, and "lay
up treasures where neither moth nor rust
To the lonely, toiling widow, it brings
repose and consolation, repairs her ex
hausted 'attire's feeble strength, cheers
her in her dreariest moment of hard ne
cessity with bright anticipations, and
speaks of the glorious promise, that there
is "One who will be a husband to the
widow, and a father to the fatherless."
To the Christian, it indicates that he is
Hearing a green oasis iu the desert of life.
His heart beats quicker, his sinking spir
its rise, for he feels that he soon will quaff
a copious draught of cheering, living wa
ter. He knows, too, that the brilliant sun,
which late ly sank behind the western hills
will rise again on the morrow, and dispel
the dusky livery which envelopes the
earth, smile on him, and gild yon tower
ing sj.ire, whence will j-eal a p leasing
chime, calling him to the sanctuary of
(iod. He feels that this is but an em
blem of the Saturday night of life, and
that then a glorious hand of angels will
dispel the gloomy night of sin. and toil.
and sorrow, and usher him into the
ful liirht of an eternal Sabbath.
Seated beneath the wide-spreading bran
ches of a stately ehn, with the summer
sky stretched out alve me, with its broad
expanse of cloudless blue, I find my mind
wandering over the objects which surround
IJefcre me stretches, in uudisturbed re- J
lxise, a beautiful sheet of water. Not a
single wave nor ripple mars its placid bo
som. A thousand trems seem siiarklinir in
the blight rays of the sun ; its bright mir
rored surface looks as if no treacherous
tonus had ever disturbed its quietude.
Lut, reader, have you never stood and
.azed upon such a scene i And, while
you have stood admiring its placid surface,
nid wondered how such a beautiful sight
could ever boil and rare in tumultuous
fury ' And yet even in your moments of
reflection, you have noted the coming
storm : and, ere you have had time to seek
shelter, have witnessed the object of your
contemplation slowly heave under the ef
fects of the wind, and, as it approaches,
high waves pile one upon the other, and
the white beaten foam surges and beats
over the spot where a few moments before
you had stood in such imaginary security.
So it is with life. To-day all calm and
serene to-morrow, tempest-tossed, you are
buffeted upon the rocks, and washed over
by the breakers as they are repelled from
the shore. Ah ! weary heart, what would
you do in this world if you stood alone
if there was no loving heart to share your
burdens ; no kindly hand to pilot you
when your nerves grew weak ; no tender
counsel to cheer you on your way ; no
loving smile to greet you after the hard
day's labor and toil ; no soft hand, w ith
its delicate touch, to cool your aching
brow. Father, we thank Thee for such
an helpmeet as gentle woman, for the love
of kindred hearts. Lovelier, cherish her;
love well. Wc would not rob thee of the
dearest, noblest, feelings of the soul. We
would not tear from thee that which the
great Master has implanted within thee
us one of the brightest graces of human
ity. We would not pluck from thy grasp
the great purifier of the soul. We would
not sever the bright burnished link that
unites fallen nature with the lledeemer,
with angels, and with God. Jjocr, the
watchword of Heaven's court ; the banner
under whose graceful folds they stand firm
and united; the theme that swells their
hearts into praise and thanksgiving, and
tunes their melodions voices into softer,
sweeter strains, as they strike their trolden
harps in one grand, full anthem of praise,
that echoes and reverberates throughout
that great city and paradise of God.
'Love, love well, but only once,
For never shall the dream
Of youthful hopes return again
On life's dark rolling stream."
Cherish the feeling. It will be thy
light in many an hour of darkness ; thine
anchor in many a troubled sea. It will
strew thy path with many fond remem
brances, many pleasing agitations; and,
at last, when earth's little dream is over,
and thy soul is about quitting its clayey
tabernacle, it will soar upward to the great
God who gave it birth, there to flow forth
with a love more ardent, unalloyed by the
dross of mortality.
"Mark well the lesson I Woman's faith and
Smoothes tho rough pathway of hapotuou3
Charms every syren from the path of fame,
And plants the seedling of a deathless name.
Mark well the lesson I Woman's tender care
Lives where the gray usurps the raven hair ;
Fires with new light the dim and fading eye.
And teaches man manfully to liie.
Take home the lesson! when we cross the
That blots lb- aye life's flitting, fading dream,
II or white hands close our life-book's latest
She weeps our ashes as she guards our age."
A I.iglit Eicai t.
There is much truth in the remark that
the philosophy of many men originate in
their livers. Those dark views of human
nature and human life which ordinarily
pass for exalted wisdom, proceed from a
diseased body or diseased mind. The man
who retires from society anil professes to
have found all its pleasure, vanity, and
vexation of spirit, would speak more truth
fully if he confessed that, from some de
rangement of his organism he had lost
his capacity for enjoyment. The lights
of the ball are just as brilliant, the dres
ses as splendid, t lie confectionary as sweet,
the music as delicious as when each of
these contributed to his delight. He has
changed, and he thence concludes that
they are hollow and joyless as they appear
to him. lie cannot bring himself to be
live that they ever did allrd him sincere
enjoyment, looking back over his past
life, his morbid fancy tinges all with
its own sombre hue. He repines at his
existence, and quotes very gloomily:
-Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen,
Count o'er the days from anguish free,
And know whatever thou hast beeu,
;Tis something better not to be."
There is no wisdom in all this. True
wisdom does tiot look uj.on this world as
either a paradise or a purgatory. Its max-
iiu is to enjoy tne present 11 it oe origin,
to endure it if it be gloomy. So far is it
from attempting to show its superiority by
finding good in nothing, that it never com
iilains. When misfortune comes, it never
succumbs at the first approach and sinks
into boneless despondence ; but with a
ight, clastic buoyancy, it makes an un
yielding resistance, and breaks all the
force of the attack.
Ah! a fine thing in this world of trial
ind sorrow, is a light hopeful heart. It
alone possesses the stoutness which will
trry one through difficulties, afflictions
and persecutions ! it can climb mountains,
penctiate deserts, and brave the storm-
tossed ocean ! it can endure all the hard
ships of the camp, and inarch unfalteringly
with the forlorn hope to the cannon s
mouth. When the proud man is humbled,
and the strong man has failed, he of light
heart will remain, unfearing and uuhurt,
triumphant over every obstacle, superior
to every difficulty.
Poor Pi.acks to Livk At. There is
a place in Maine so rocky thac when the
Down hasters plant corn, they look lor
crevices iu the rocks, and shoot the grass
in with a musket ; they can't raise ducks
there no how, for the stones arc so thick
that the ducks can't get their bills between
them to pick up the grasshoppers, and
the only way that the sheep can get
at the sprigs of grass is by grinding their
noses on a grindstone.
Lut that ain't a circumstance to a place
on the Eastern shore; there the land is so
poor that it takes two kildeas to say "kil
dea and on a clear day you can see the
grasshoppers climb up a mullcn stalk, and
look with tears in their eyes over a nlty
acre field ; and the bumble bees have to
go down on their knees to get at the grass ;
all the mosquitoes die of starvation, and
the turkey buzzards have to emigrate
IJut there is a county in Virginia which
can beat that there the laud is so sterile
that when the wind is at the northwest,
they have to tie the children to keep them
from being blown away; there it takes six
frogs o see a man, and when the dogs bark
they have to lean against the fence ; the
horses are so thin that it takes twelve of
them to make a shadow, and when they
kill a beef they have to hold him up to
knock him down !
But, oh ! there is a region in Jersey;
saith Mose Draper, where they held a two
week's jubilee in the churches, because it
was announced that a fresh blade of grass
had sprouted in the southern pjjrt of the
county. There the natives once murdered
a traveller for the sake of half a ginger
bread cake, which he was rumored to have
in his pocket, and there, too, they turned
a man "out of
because, after a
visit to Philadelphia, he reported that
while iu that city had had at one tuuo
as much as he could cat.
CftF A philosopher, being asked what
was the first thing necessary towarils win
ning the love of a woman, answered : "An
Wanted A lid for the trunk of a
Arkinsaw beats the world for black bars,
pooty wimmeu, and big timber. Stranger,
I've seen trees there that would take a
man a week to walk round 'cm. A fel
low started once to walk through one that
was hollow, lie didn't take any vittebj
with him, and he starved on his way.
I was goiu' up the Mississippi once in
one of them country boats, when we met
a big Arkinsaw cyprsss floating down. I
tell you, stranger, it was a whopper. Tho
Capen run iu his boat 'longside, and fast
ened the rope to it. Off she started, snor
tin' and puffin', but didn't buelge a J-eg.
The Capen ripped arouud, and hollowed
out "fire up, below there, you lubberly
rascals." The wheel clattered away the
log was actually carryin' us down stream.
Directly up comes a feller in a red shirt,
and says, "Capen, you are strainiu' the
engine mitily." 4Cut loose and let her
go, then," says the Capen. They cut the
roj.es, and dod burn me, stranger, if tho
boat didn't jump clean outer the water.
We run a little ways, but the encine was
raly so exhausted, that we just had to stop.
Nearly dav, there comes along a fine steam
er We hailed her, got aloard, and there
was that same log hitched alongside. o
wooded off that cypress all the way to
Llaek bears arc bigger, plentier, and
more cunniu in Arkinsaw, inananvwnere
else. The he's have a way of etandin on
their hind legs, and makin a mark with
their paws on the bark of souie certain
trees, generally sassalras. Its a kind of
reccord they keep, and 1 suppose it's a
great satisfaction to an old he bar, to have
the highest mark on the tree. Iwarlayin
hid one day close to a tree where the bars
wur in the habit of makin their mark,
waitin' for one of 'em to come along, for
I tell you I was might- hungry for bar
meat. Directly I heard a noise close to
nie--dod burn me, stranger, cf thar wasn't
a small bear walkin' straight on his hind
legs, with a big chunk in his arms. I
could o' shot him first, but I was might- cur
ious tosee what he was goiugto dowiththat
chunk, lie carried it right to the tree
where the marks were, stood it on the end
against it, and then gittin' on the top of
it, reached away up the tree, and made a
big mark of a foot above the highest,
lie then got down, moved the chunk away
from the tree, as you never seen such ca
perin as he cut up. He looked up at hi.
mark, and then he would lay down and
roll over in the leaves, laughing outright
just like a person; no doubt tickled at the
way somebody would be fooled. There
was somethin so human about it, that 1
actually hadn't the heart to shoot him.
Just to show how cunnin' bars are, I'll
tell you a circumstance what happened to
me iu Arkansas. You sec, one Fall, be
fore 1 gathered my corn, I kept missin' it
outer the field, and I knew the bars were
taking it, for I could ace their tracks.
liut what seemed mighty curious, I never
could ud where they eat it nary cob
nowhar about. One luorniu' early 1 hap
pened around the field, and there I saw
an old she bar and two cubs just coniin'
outer the patch, and walking off with their
arms full o' corn. I was determined to
find out what they did with so much corn,
and follered along after 'em without mak
ing auy noise. Well, after going nearly
a mile, I saw 'em stop, and stranger
what do you think there were a full pen
o' hogs, and the liars were feedin' 'em.
You see, that Fall the hogs were so poor,
on account of having no corn, that the
bars had actually built a rail pen, put
hogs iu it, and were fattcnin' 'em with my
corn. Dod burn my hat if thatain't a
To the Uoys. Never marry a girl
who is fond of always being in the street
who is fond of going to the theatre
who has a jewelled baud and an empty
head who will see her toother work and
toil while she lies iu bed and reads novels
or feigns sickness who is ashamed to own
her mother because she dresses plain
never learned jrrammar, or was accustom
ed to the etiquette of the drawing-room
who is always complaining that she can
not get enough mouey to dress like Miss
So-aud-So, or go to parties like Sueh-a-one
who wears her shoes slipshod, or has a
hole in her stockings and is too laiy to
mend it. Should you get such a one, de
pend upon it you will have a dirty, un
tidy, miserable homo and life of it- But
the kind, affectionate, tidy girl, who helps
her mother, who is always ready and anx
ious to accommodate her mother, father,
brothers and sisters who U kind to tho
poor who dresses neatly and according
to her means who is always cheerful and
fond of accommodating others if you can
get such a treasure, 3-our home will be a,
paradise. Uoys, do you hear that !
J 5? Love thy neighbor as thyclf