The Ebensburg Alleghanian. (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1865-1871, November 16, 1865, Image 1

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    "XjTjnrEurEdll and Proprietor.
. .
.vmn V
post O.Jices.
Chess Springs,
fallea Timber,
St. Augustine,
Scalp Level,
rost Masters. Lfistricts
Steven L. Evans, Carroll.
Henry Nutter,
A. G. Crooks,
J. Houston,
John Thompson,
C. Jeffries,
J. M. Christy,
Wai Tiley, Jr.,
I. E. Chandler,
M. Adlesberger,
A. Durbin,
Andrew J Ferral, Susq'han.
ctn Wharton. Clearfield.
George Rerkey,
B. M'Colgan,
George 1L Wike,
Vm. M'Connell,
J. K. Shryock,
. tjev. T. M. Wilson, pastor.
vnrcre7y Sabbath morning at 10 J
nd in the evening at 7 o'clock. Sab-
C ,nn nr. O C Ot&i -J -
Thursday Zoning at 6 o'clock
Pershixo, as-
Preacnerin ,.u-iS. Sabbath
i'ant Preaching every
Sort, at 10 J o'clock. Sabbath School at 9
Sa. M. Prayer meeting every U edne
dar evening, at 7 o'clock. Powell
'll'dch Independent Rev Ll. R-. I owell,
Ptor.-Prea?h!ng every Sabbath , morning ; at
ti evenuiii i "
dabbath School ut 1 o'clock i . ;u. "J"
meetin- on the first Monday evening of each
men hi and on every Tuesday, Thursday and
Friday evening, excepting the first week ,n
each niouth. ,.
CaMnuiU MetUdht-V. Mono ax Ellis
ruator.-Prcaching every Sabbath evening at
2 and 6 o'clock. Sabbath School at 1 o clock,
A. M. Piaver meeting every Friday evening,
at 7 o'clock. Society every Tuesday evening
at 7 o'clock.
Disciples Key. W. Lloyd, Tastor. Preach
i:? evcrv Sabbath morning at 10 o'clock.
"'Particular IJtrpiisU Rev . David Evans,
Putor. Preaching every Sabbath evening at
3 o'clock. Sabbath School at at L o'clock, P. M.
Catholic Her. R. C. Christy, Pastor.
Services every Sabbath morning at 10 o'cloek
Vespers at 4 o'clock in the evening.
EKEXSBl'RG 31. 1 11.5.
Eastern, dailv, at 12.00 o'clock, noon.
Western, at 12.00 o'clock, noon.
r-.Ltr.rn .1,1 iti- t 8 o'clock. P. M.
If t stern,
8 o'clock, P.
tv5Thf? mails from Newman's Mills, Cnr-
-liu-wii. ic, arrive c.i Monday, Wednesday
av..l VVnA-y of c:ic'.-. week, at o'clock, P. M.
Leave Ebensburj on Tuesdays, Thursdays
aud Saturdays, at 7 o'clock, A. M.
t Halt. Kxmvss leaves at 1.17 A
' Phila. Express
" Fast Line "
Mail Train "
Pitts, a Erie Ex. '
Altoona Acconi. "
E,?-ri:ila. Ei-press "
' Fast Line "
Day Express "
Pin-. Lrie Ex. "
Mail Train ;'
AL'joua Accor.i. "
10.07 A.
9.o8 P.
8.3S P.
V.l?, A.
4.30 P.
..-0 P.
1.43 A.
7.0J A. M.
12.03 P. M.
5.10 P. M.
11.10 A. M.
Ju.hcs cf the Courts President Hon. Geo.
T.ivlor, lluntinauon ; Associates, George W.
tuUy, Ueary C. Devii.e.
iVot!.o!i(.f-c-yJoeph M'Donal 1.
Jitgttur ont l.'o-i Utr James lirlSln.
Srrif Juints Myers.
Dls'Titt Ailornj. Philip S. Noon.
Cvunt't C!:imi.'si:trs John Campbell, Ed-w-rJ
Gliii. E. II. Lninnegan.
Clerk to Cumaii.-ioncrs William II. Scch
!r. 7- :svrer saac Wike.
C'-r'; to Tre uurer John Lloyd.
l,r H-JUe Ihr'dors (;eorge M'Cullough.
uirge orris, JuKli Dai!ty.
Pior Uous: Treasurer George C. K. Zalim.
.4uf;for4Frnti. P. riercev, Jno. A. Ken
nedy, Euanui UraHic-r.
Ccu.ity Shrvr Pienrv canlan.
Coroner. -V.-iiHanj Fiatie'rv.
Mtrtantile Appraise r Joan Cot.
t- of Common Schools J. F. Condon.
T I- A It & E .
-utttcei of the J'eact
r-Craund J. lrafer?.
narrison Kinkead,
wooi rectors Phi
'P Noon. AJel
'u.w, uavid J. Jones
Hugh Jones, Wm. M.
roujh Treasurer Geo. W
'n6-,'i?.. r ' '
east ward.
Joicn Coun? ;rv n..
ouncd E. lluirhec
no. J. Erac
Evan Griffith.
Will. I). IViria Moi -ri.r.
- J J V W "J AA
U K' Tibboit Robert D.
feC E(ction Daniel O. Evans.
Jsr-J. A. Moore.
r WEST waud.
"J'-Thos. J.Williams.
a-ra? ?''"ct,l-lsc Crawford, James P.
aaV. ' Kltte11' IL Kink?ad, George W.
r7?lbert EvanS' JD0' E' Slan.
t r:t Llection. John D. Thomas.
-o-.t'npt. Murray.
ir. T , ' . ....
""eti i 1, JUUJ,U11- i-ouge o. 6Z A. Y . M.
U'a Masonic Hall, Ebensburg, on the
p -u luesday of each month, at 1 o'clock,
oA0 - J Highland Lodge No. 428 I. O.
3 mJ0Jd Fellows' Hall, Ebensburg,
7 Wednesday evening
Ti-lr"IIisl,land Division No. 84 Sons of
meets in Temperance Hall, Eb-
;aiuruay evening.
of subscription'
1 tr;
"Some Day."
You smooth the tangles from my hair
With gentle touch aud tenderest care,
And count the years ere you shall mark,
Bright silver threads Among the dark
Smiling the while to hear me say,
You'll think of this again some day,
Some day !"
I do not scorn the power of Time,
Nor count on years of fadeless prime,
But no white gleams will ever shine
Among these heavy locks of mine:
Ay, laugh as gaily as you may ;
You'll think of this agatu some day, t
Some day !
Some day ! I shall not feel as now,
Ycur soft hands move about my brow
I shall not slight your light command,
And draw the long braids thro' my hand ;
I shall be silent and obey,
And you you will not laugh that day,
Some day !
I know how long your loving hands
Will finger with these glossy bands,
When you shall weave my last crown
Of these thick braidings,long and brown ;
But you will see no touch of gray
Adown their shining length that day,
Some day !
And while your tears are falling hot
Upou the lips which answer not,
You'll take from those one treasured tress,
And leave the rest to silentness
Remembering that I used to say,
"You'll think of this again, some day,
Some day 1"
"It :,3 almost dark," said Lizzie Elliott,
perched on the bars that led into tlie
solemn quietude of the Martiustower
wood?, with hcrlrown hood hanging 1'roni
otic arm, and a scarlet shawl drawn over
her tangled black curls. "I wonder why
papa dt'n't come !".
Jjizzie was a selfish sort of a damsel,
with gre it black eyes and peach-red cheeks,
aud a blue calico dress fearfully torn by
some jigged bramble. She was not par
ticularly graceful, nor were the hands tnat
held the schawl 'ogether under her chin
slender and snowy. Ou the contrary, the
March, wind hvi rcdJenc-d ther;, and
bi.No ler hhort curls about until you
eouU' t-carcely have tolo, from any out-
i ward inuicatioti, whether she were boy or
"Lizzie ! child ! come down thii instant !
When will you lcaru to be a little more
And Lizzie slipped guiltily down from
her rcat on the- lop-most bar, as a sfout
old gentleman, with iron-gray hair, aula
suit to match, came trotting down the roud
on a stout little pony.
4,Oh, papa! I thought you never was
coming '."
'I'll tell tou what I am going to do,"
said the old gentleman irascibly, as Lizzie
sauntered along by the pony's side, with
one hand thrown over its shaggy7 inane,
and the reddened fingers playing with the
loos'O locks.
"I'm goiug to buy a pair of loose trous
ers and a coat, and set you to work cut
ting trees with the rest of the men-folks.
It's all a mistake trying to make a young
lady of you."
;I wish you would, papa," ejaculated
Lizzie, "it would be such lun !"
"Fun !" echoed the old gentleman,
"Xow I give you fair warning, Miss Liz
zie, you have got to be a htt.'e more cir
cumspect in future. Mr. Martin b coming
"Mr. Martin of Martinstower ?"
"The same."
Lizzie looked back to where the sunset
was turning the vast gothic windows of
the gray stone mansion among the Mar
tinstowcr woods to gold, and opened her
black eyes very wide.
"I wish lie would stay at Para Parn
what's its name' I cau't steal any
more roses from the lawn, nor play at hide
and seek with Nero in the iireat stone
portico any more. What docs he want to
come back for V
"Probably because lie is tired of living
in foreign countries," dryly responded her
"Aud when will he be here ?"
"In the course of a month or two.
His confidential clerk comes immediately
to sec about refurnishing and decorating
Martinstowcr for his reception, and"
"He must be a very fine young gentle
man if the old furniture isn't good
enough," said Lizzie, elevating her little
"Will you hold your saucy .tongue,
Miss? Ilow dare jou speak in that way
of a man who must be worth, at least
computation, a quarter of a million? I
was going to say that I hope Mr. Martin
will make it his home at our house for a
day or two before he takes possession of
his new residence. Viola is a pretty girl,
and it may not be a bad idea to establish j
some intimacy betweeu our place anu
Martinstower before "
"I understand," said Lizzie, nodding
her head knowingly. "Viola would make
a splendid fine lady, and so would Blanche.
Mrs. Martin, of Martinstower I wouldn't
it be glorious !"
"Lizzie!" eaid her father, sharply,
"you will obligo m by moderating your
tone somewhat. : There is somebody com
ing down the road hush !"
The words were; yet on his lips as a
tall, well built young man, in a coarse
gray overcoat and a felt hat, came up.
"Can you tell me the way to Martins
tower, sir ?"
"Martinstower!" repeated Mr. Elliott,
staring at the stranger. "Upon; my
word, it is a strange coincidence, young
sir. You are undoubtedly Mr. Hartwell,
referred to in the letter I this morning
received from Maurice Martin and beg
leave to introduce myself as Job Elliott,
9gent for the Martinstower estate,". --..
"Letter," repeated the young man, "has
the letter but just arrived ?"
"This morning," returned Mr. Elliott,
courteously. "Perhaps you'll return with
ma to-night, Mr. Hartwell, and we can
go over the property to-morrow. I have
the less hesitatiDn in extending an invita
tion to you, young man, as your employer
gives me to understand that you are an
exceedingly worthy person, although
ahem of common-place extraction."
The stranger had removed his soft hat,
probably out of compliment to the red
fingered young lady, and stood with a
pair of large blue eyes fixed on Mr. Elli
ott's rather pompous face.
"Thank you, sir," he said composedly
" is late, and I am totally unac
quainted in the viciuity, I shall accept
your hospitable oficr."
Viola Elliott, a handsome, olive-cheeked
girl of about twenty was eagerly await
ing her father, just within the threshold
of the cozy, though plainly furnished
family apartment.
"Oh, papa, is it true that Martin is "
She stapped short, and Blauche, a
plump, languishing blonde who was curled
upon the sofa with a novel in her hand,
burst into a giggle as the confidential
clerk's tall figure loomed up behiud her
portly parent
"My dear," said Mr. Elliott, flourishing
his hand, "this s Mr. Hartwell, the sec
retary, ciev
: I scarcely
know what to
Mr. Martin to
call him dispatched by
prepare Martinstower for
a nttiug recep-
Viola bent her head etifily. Blanche
just nodded. Truly the confidential clerk
felt that his greeting could ecarcely be
characterized a over warm.
"Papa," said Viola, following her father
mto the uininc: room, -what matte you
ask him horn
with you just when you
arc ao nurnea :
"Hurried, Viola
"That's just a man's view of tilings,"
pouted the young lady. "You might
have known that Blanche and T have
nothing fit to wear we mut have our
new pink dresses made airain-t Mr. Mar
tin's return andjthe best bed romn must
be repapered, and the parlor paint is
shocking, and here you bring a great
staring fellow to lounge round in the way.
Why couldn't he go to the villiage tav-
"My dear, you forget that he is Maurice
Martin's confidential clerk."
"No, papa, I don't forget anything of
the sort," retorted Viola, sharply. "But
I am sure that is no way to give Mr. Mar
tin a favorable impression, for him to find
us hand and jjlove with his trumpery
clerk. lie will suppose he must sup
pose that our associations arc of the very
lowest. Papa, it is too bad !"
And Viola burst into tears.
"I am astonished at papa," added
Blanche, who had entered tu participate
in the discussion. "Inviting a clerk a
common clerk to our house! At any
rate he must sleep in the little dark room
over the kitchen. So Viola, we can have
the best bed room papered just as if he
were not here."
The confidential clerk, standing in front
of the bright red sparkle of the fire in the
room beyond, smiled to himself even while
a deep and indignant flush mounted to his
forehead, as he involuntarily overheard
tle little sotto voce by -play in the other
"And this," ho murmured to himself,
sadly watching the gloomy masses of coal,
"is all the welcome a wanderer receives,
after twenty years spent on the sterile
rocks of a foreign land. Home ! the word
has a pretty echo, yet there is something
hollow in the t-ouud after all."
".Mr. Confidential Clerk, you are cry
ing !"
He started with a quick blush, as a
little hand, red and frosted with the cold,
was laid upon his coat sleeve.
"Crying! I!"
"You needn't try to deceive me, sir,"
nodded Lizzie Elliott, who had crept to
his side, with a white kitten in her arms.
"I saw the bright drop sparkle on your
cye-lashesxlike a great diamond, and then
1 saw it fall upon the hearth. Why are
you crying ? Is it because you are poor,
friendless, and of what did papa call it ?
oh, of common-place extraction !"
He did not answer. There was some
thing in the Eoft pitying shine of those
black eyes that enthralled his gaze. Lizzie
came close to him, winking hard to keep
a sympathetic moisture from her own
dark lashes.
"Don't cry!" sho pleaded softly.
"Cheer up ! I know papa is patronizing
and the girls Are cross, but I'll be your
friend. Only think how many men have
begun the world as poor as yourself, and
'yet have triumphed over fortune."
NOT EMBER 16, 1865.
II e smiled.
"My dear little girl"
."I am not a little girl !" interrupted Liz
zie, indignantly. "I was sixteen last
"Well, then, my dear young lady," re
sumed the Confidential Clerk, smiling,
"I will accept your words as an omen of
comiug good fortune. Tell me about
Martinstower. Is it a pretty place ?"
"It is a splendid place," corrected Liz
zie, with great enthusiasm. "With mar
ble mantles, you know, all covered with
ancient gods and goddesses, and floors of
inlaid wood, and ceiliugs to look like
yellow sunsets, and spots in ti e woods
when the vines are growing overhead.
And there are lawns and wide gravel
walks, and I once peeped through the
glass doors of the conservatories and saw
great blue passion flowers and cactuses like
tassels of flame, and orange trees with real
ripe oranges growing on them. It is like
a fairy story."
"Lizzy ! Lizzy ! you are talking far
more than is proper for a child,'' interrup
ted Viola, sharply, breaking in upon their
tete-a-tete. "Put down that kitten and
go to your French immediately."
And as the abashed damsel with the
tangled curls obeyed her elder sister's be
hest, the energetically whispered words,
"dignity of the clerk," readied Hartwell's
ears, together with Miss Lizzy's pettish
"I don't care I like him !"
The next moruing, the confidential
clerk exchanged the "little room over the
kitchen" for a more comfortable and spa
cious apartment in the village inn, whence
he calmly superintended the projected
improvements at Martinstower, and all the
gossip wa? exchanged between him and
Lizzy in the course of her daily rambles
through the Martinstower wood3. It
Blanche and Viola had only known of the
rapidly cementing friendship which had
sprung up between the two, what a shock
their ari?tocratic tendencies would have
received !
"Lizzy ! Lizzy Elliott ! I am ashamed
of you."
"But papa, he Kays he loves me."
"Loves you !" echoed Viola, holding up
both hands. "Papa, only listen to her.
A paltry clerk to dare fall in love with
our Lizzy I"
"A mere child, too not seventeen,"
chimed in Blanche, whose twenty-seventh
birthday was looming darkly over her.
"Papa, I wish you would buy Lizzy a doll
and send her to boarding-school."
"Girls! girls! will you give me a chance
to speak?" pauted Mr. Elliott despairing
ly. "Lizzy, I don't know which aston
ishes me most this lellow's audacity or
your ridiculous i'-Aly."
"Papa," s iid Lizzie, gravely, ''I intend
to rnarry him."
"Silence !" thundered the old gentle
man. "You shall not marry him ! I'll
write to Maurice Martin to discharge the
impertinent puppy at once."
The evening meal was already spread,
and the lamps lighted, when Mr. Elliott
came, thenex; night. Blanche was read
ing, and Viola was clipping the dead
leaves of her favorite geianium.
"Where's Lizzy, girls ?" said the old
gentleman, taking his seat in front of the
pile of buttered toast, and liberally help
ing himself to the same.
"In her room, I suppose," returned
Viola. "I have twice rung the bell."
"Go after lief, then. She's sulking af
ter her beloved clerk, I suppose," com
mented Mr. Elliott.
Viola went, but returned almost im
mediately, with a pale, frightened face.
"She's not there, papa, but this note
lay on the table."
Mr. Elliott broke the seal, and hurried
ly glanced over the tremulously written
worus with a face that hod
ashes :
grown lite
"By the time tou eead these words,
dearest pal'a, your llzzy will be anoth
As he folded the note with stern, rigid
features, a light step crossed the threshold,
and Lizzy's arms were around his neck,
the Confidential Clerk stauding by the
door with a face where pride and indomi
table resolution struggled for mastery.
"Papa, forgive me forjrive us !"
"I'll sec you hanged first !'' roared the
old gentleman, turning purple around the
mouth. "Begone, both of you. Beg,
starve if you like, but never come to me
lor aid or help !"
"Ridiculous !" sobbed Viola.
"Preposterous !" scolded Blanche.
"Be it so," eaid the clerk, quietly.
"Lizzy, we need nothing more than one
another's love. Come, my little wife !"
"Bat, papa," persisted Lizzy, "I want
to explain."
"Will you begone?" ejaculated Mr. FA
liott, opening the door wide, and motion
ing toward the road.
And so Lizzy aud her husband left the
unfriendly shadow of the paternal roof.
Blanche Elliott, surrounded by an at
mosphere of lavender, vinegar, and eau
de colognej was just coming out of the
hvsterics into which Lizzy'f unpreceden
ted conduct had thrown her, when there
was a low tap at the door, and a young
man bearing a peculiar-looking foreign
carpet-bag in his hand appeared.
."This is Mr. Elliott, I suppose."
"Yes, sir," returned the old gentle
man, hesitating whether to embrace the
stranger as Maurice Martin, or repel him
as an emissary from the obnoxious Confi
dential Clerk.
"Ah so I concluded. Has Mr. Mar
tin been here to-dar ?"
Mr. Elliott started.
"Mr. Martin is in Parnaham, Brazil."
"I beg your pardon, sir," returned the
young man; "I am his secretary, and am
quite convinced that he is at this present
time at his family estate of Martinstower.
Perhcps I had better seek him there. I
am told it i3 but a mile further on."
He retreated, bowing with a foreign
profusion of courtesy, leaving Mr. Elliott
overwhelmed with amazement.
"My dear," he said, hurrying back to
the sitting-room, "I must go over to Mar
tinstower at once. Mr. Martin has ar
rived at last."
Blanche feat up, tossing the bright drops
of cologne from her curls.
"Oh, papa! you will be sure to bring
him back to supper ?"
"I'll try, my dear -I'll try," said the
flurried senior.
"Papa," said ViIa, "you are trying to
pull your boots on over your slippers!"
"Confound it, so I am this affair of
Lizzy's has completely unsettled me !"
So saying, Mr. Elliott darted firth into
the darkness like some new style of pro
jectile, t
The lights of the stained Gothic win
dows at Martinstower were streaming
brightly across the lawn as he came hur
riedly up the broad stone steps aud ruug
the bell.
"Mr. Martin has he arrived ?"
The servant bowed, and u hered him
into a large room, whose supcibly arrang
ed furniture ttruck Mr Elliott with an
indefinite idea of luxury. Lizzy was
standiug by a tall alabaster vase ot cling
ing tropic vines that occupied one of the
bay windows, with a colored lamp burniug
"Papa! oh, papa! you have forgiven
me ?" she cried.
He turned rigidly away from her plead
ing eyes to her liua'oani.
"I have called to sea your master,
younsr man."
" j o see whom, sir
Mr. Martin, of Martinstower."
1 am at your service, Mr. Elliott."
"l'ou are ! Who the deuce cares
whether you are or not ! I tell you I
want to see Mr. Martin."
"Maurice Martin is my name, dr."
Mr. Elliott stood aghast.
"Why, I I I thought you were the
confidential clerk !"
"I netrer told you that I was, sir. Yon
chose to take it tor granted, and I allowed
you that privilege. As. the confidential
clerk I wooed and won your daughter
as Maurice Martin I could have obtained
no greater treasure !"
"It's all a mistake from betrinninj; to
eud," exclaimed poor Mr. Eiliotr, wiping
the perspiration from his fevered brow.
"Lizzy, my dear, come here and kiss me I
Sou-iu-law, you're a trump! Why didn't
you tell me of this before ?"
"I didn't know it myself, papa, till we
were married," said Lizzie, laughiug and
blushing j "and when I tried to tell you
all about it to-Jiight, you wouldn't let
"So you were Maurice Martin all the
while," said Mr. Elliott, with a deep
breath. "Well, upon my word and hon
or! And my little Lizzy is Mrs. Martin,
of Martinstower !"
Lizzy nestled close to the aforesaid
Maurice, and his look of fond pride sent
a ttraoge thrill down into the father's
heart. Maurice did indeed love the six-teeu-year-old
child, and Lizzy's instinct
had led her to the haven of happiness.
"I know I'm very young," faltered Liz
zy, "but I am going to leave off playing
with my kitten, and brush my curls out
smooth, and stop climbing fences, and
and Maurice says he loves me just a
much as if 1 were a diguified wife forty
years old."
Cholera Cured as Easily as Tooth
ache. Dr. Post, who is represented as
"a high medical authurity" in New York,
delivered a lecture at the Medical Col
lege, in that city, on Friday evening last.
He claims that cholera is "as curable as
the tooth-ache." His method ot treat
ment, as he explained it, is briefly as fol
lows : The patient is first attacked by
diarrhoea, accompanied by extreme lassi
tude. He ehould then' instantly go to
bed and remain perfectly quiet for forty
eisihi hours, taking at leat fifteen grains
of calomel to drive the infection promptly
from the system. After this has acted
freely a small dose of laudanum should be
given, to soothe the patient and prevent
further intestinal action. Ice should also
be applied to the spinal column. Dr.
Post claims that this treatment has been
applied in thousands of cases, and uever
failed to result in the rapid aud entire re
covery of the patient. It is of the very
first importance, however, that the patient
should not abandon the reclining posture,
from the very commencement of the dis
ease until the recovery. All the promi
nent medical men in the city are eugag-
ing themselves in the study of the cholera,
not clinically, of course, as there have
been no cases yet in the city.
Ktlticational Department.
All communications intended for this column
should bt addressed to the Educational Editor
cf The A'legkanian.
Governing a Sciiool. Some years
since, while spending a few days in a qui
et village in one of the western counties
of the State, and not being pressed with
business, I concluded to pay a visit to the
two echools in the town, each of which
was in charge ot a female teacher with
whom I had some acquaintance. Know
ing one of them to have been a more than
ordinarily diligent student, aud also to be
possessed of a strong, clear mind; I. gavo
her school the preference as regards the
priority of my visits. Order had been
called fully half au hour at the time I en
tered the room, or at least more than that
length of time had elapsed since the hour
of beginning the exercises. Upon enter
ing, it was hardly possible not to notica
my friend's embarrassment, the crimson
suffusing her cheeks as she aD'lo-ptii!!ir
said that her pupils appeared "very noisy
mis morning." lwo lull hours of a visit
convinced me that in saying her pupils
appeared very noisy, she spoke only the
truth. "What will I do with these un
governable childreu?" was the question
she addressed me after dismissal of her
schvot; "I to them, I watch tbeui,
punish them, do everything I can to get
them td keep quiet and to study, but it
all seems to be no use." And it mas of
no use. In controlling her school, she
herielf made more noise than enough to
overturn the quiet and god order of any
set of pupils, lu her hands during reci
tations were a text-book, stick and bell,
while either bell, stick, or her tongue wrs
iu just less than con-tant use. zVv the
time I entered, a reading class was reci
ting. A scene ensued something like the
following: "Read, John." John gets
up to read Dingle ! dingle ! rings out
from the bell. "Go ahead, John, and
read." John reads about a line, when a
half dozen quick, sharp raps interrupt
John's reading, and momentarily occupy
the attenliou cf those wh- would be dili
gent if given opportunity. John again
proceeds, but before finishing his para
giaph, he is stopped by, "Jane what are
you doing there? will you always b3 in
mischief ? why can't you behave yourself
and attend to your books, and not be all
the time giving annoyance to your teach
er?" Thus throughout the morning the
exercises were interrupted, the teacher
harassed to exhaustion, and the school
kept in a continual uproar. Now, a rem
edy for all this might be found in the ob
servance cf a few rules:
1. Preserve ai all times a quiet, self
possessed demeanor, never getting confused
nor petulant.
2. Choose the proper moment for re
proof, that is, during the intervals between
recitations, or in case of necessity for in
stant correction by words, between the
moments occupied in recitation by differ
ent scholars.
3. Speak in a voice no louder than is
necessary to be heard
4. Doriiot scald, but let the words be
few, aud, if ueed be, sharp.
5. Do not threaten any more than is
'included in a necessary warning of the
puuishment you will positively inflict for
certain offences.
G. Do not be needlessly severe in the
infliction of punishment.
7. Have as few rules as possible. A
multiplicity of rules are so many tempta
liona to sin.
8. Never let a pupil see that you are at
a loss vvhai to do.
'- f
Good Advice. Halts Journal oj
Health gives the following good advice
with reference to school children :
Sec that they have all the sleep they
can take. Every child under ten should
have eleven hours sleep; those older can
do with something less.
See to it that every child goes to bed
with warm, dry feet, and sleeps warm
all night.
Always send them off to school in a
happy, affectionate state of mind j and
when they return, let them be invariably
received with a kindly greeting.
By all possible means, arrange that
they shall reach school, with dry feet anj
dry clothing j the neglect of this has sent
many a sweet eniiu to an eariy grave.
School children should eat with regu
larity; thrice a day is all sufficient.
Embrace every opportunity of impres
sing the child's mind with the fact that
teachers are laboring for their good, and
therefore ought to be loved, respected and
obeyed as their best friends.
Mi 4 .
Effect of Laziness. A lazy boy
makes a lazy man, juit as sorely as a
crooked sapling makes a crooked tree.
Think of that, my lads. Who ever saw
a boy grow up in idleness that did not
make a miserable, shiftless vagabond when
he was old enough to be a man, though he
was not a man in character? The great
mass of thieves, paupors and .criminals
have come to what they are by being
brought up to do nothing useful. All
those who arc good men now, and useful
to the community, were industrious when
they were boys. If you do not like to
work now. a love for industry can soon be
acquired by habit. Shun idleness as you
would the evil one.