OCR Interpretation


Whig and tribune. (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, July 29, 1871, Image 1

Image and text provided by University of Tennessee

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85033435/1871-07-29/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

Hi
I4
'fit
3, WXXiriX-l
i T . - 1 - - - -mm. - . -. . -!- . . - jr j , -v -...r v-... . -.. . . -.,-- rv
1, Vo see J
J
a -I
Ja3
1
3, wxZjXjX-vXs, j
mm mmrnmA
j .if of r. V- v.H W r!u
t Jilir OKI Staml, Slain
vy.i
Mm.rnrcr an 1
BOOTS, SHOES,
' tI".l"S Irxe. r-xtcnive ami well
u nnl C'l.il.lrc j'
3 M
uglit lirt--t from M .n u r- u ft-r ,
Boots, ' Shoes,
r
I t!titj Ion
( 'hiujiou
(haiii(iou -i'
f 'itanip'ov 3
.WW
''T'haro jio
Chniion
Cbaiupiotia
( 'hampiou
' 'haliijjloli
V ImUliiioIli
H.'i.'H.'E.'i.'S. "E. i.'i.'H.'EE. i.'H."H.'H.'i-uoil uiBq.')
'ooooooooc:oGco2 Muoidurctn
mill iTrmt Wn-??.IL
I liuui jiionu
Iiaiu
.'liam
Clinra
( ham i
pionr? . a. s. . a. , . s.o""""U J
lions S5:sc.aS6 a5SS duoiuoreua
. ( liainiiorM 22555SS - 5 J J 2 S eaotduiq;)
Ciiauipioni. 2 5 2 3 5 5 . W suojdurBqO
Right
to sell the
illicit HAS ItKIlN -REDUCED FHOM $3 CO TO 93 OO.
JTKvrry pair of t'buniylmu fc warraaUvl gooil, honest and aerviueaMe, in every
lieular, eiul to the be A cum made boo and worth the money.
Vill not bo undersold. Call and ezamino before purchasing elsewhere.
Sign of tho Big Boot, Comer Main and Market st
.f-n
W AGlOTFOlt VfegM
IICKEEING'S FIRST 'PRIZE
I AND OTHEa
1 And Iiitey & Co.', Geo. WooUj' and Iorlugr & Blake's
MUuOlX, AND CllUltCII ORGANS,
271 Second Street, Jure ltullding, Memphis, Tcnn.
tL ll'I..KMJER(l 1 it I'wtleal I'lano and Onfan Builder. J'artlcular attention
, paid tn the iiurvbuM!, aula and renting of avcond-hand l'ianoa and Orann, and to
Tuning and Bepalrinff Piaiiou and Or grans.
ew
AT
f. JDTVWG- STORE.
M n.w ri-.'lvliif a very lrrp and M-l-t Ktm-k of everytldnic in the IUl'(l and
MhlH INK lino, logi'tliir with a very lino and fhunt aasortuiviit or tho cUoiiet
rfuinery, Colognes, Hair Oils, Pomades, Combs. Brushes,
Etc., Powder Puffs and Puff Boxes.
II of m pod are purchased dirct t trim the manufacturer and Importers in
kn.i.l IMiiladfliihia. at thrfr lowest c:h price. cousequcuUy I can otter u
Ui eintnits t(i ail caMJ uuycra. , , , ..
woul.l call particuliir aitoutlou to my flue xtoik of Ture Liiuor,
1ENCH BRANDT, "VOTE AND PURE WHISKIES,
nhWh 1 huve the flnent goods in the city.
' Proscription Department. . fl
Ve mKe tho nlline or preaeriptiona a ai ialty, and hope by the mot careful atten
, and tha use of none except the very In-st and pure.t druK, to maintain the repu
, tnllim and taiidinif of my house lor the. pt five yeara.
!"nlw have im baud a very lare stw k of tho best brands or
Wlaite -Iica1 Unseed OH,
And rlnt-.'of all kinds, and ou which I cannot be uiulcreold by auy body.
r TERMS CASH.
ipi-tt -
UN C""UIN. ,
John
CUBBIN, GUNN fc COOVER,
flaning Mill and Lumber Yard.
i . . . . .'manufactukers of
fHr. Sa.Hli, Itlinds Iouldlnsr
U01UIIJT, MUlIlir,
j 'V A LAKOB
mU 2il ami 3rd duality of White line,
Yellow Pine, Cypres, Lntha, Shlnglea, &c
Joh.IOI, iS3andlG3 Washington Street,
lai rh IS, lS71-12m.. r . M EMPIIIS. TENNESSEE.
AND COMPLETE SUCCESS!!
''''SOUTHERN
Life insukance company.
ZJlemphis, Tenn.
ASSETS. NEARLY ONE MILLION DOLLARS.
T. A.' NK.LSON; President; '
AMOS AVOOni.Ul'F.aud
V. M. WHITE, Vico-rrcbidcnt;
Directors:
T. A. N'. lson,
I -ib Wclli-r,
ii. Jniiii B. ilordon,
l. ll.'i'OWIIM nj.
A. Woodruff,
II. A. PaiUv.
II null Torrance,
li. C Krinkli y,
l ViliKNliS divlaiol annually at the
,MJ All Policies iiDii-forlciiiu atlrr two
i'ni.li inly. honeaUy and vm.uuc.illy niuu.icd, it orient M!cial iuducemciiu to those
iic-irinc insiirniHc.
j . Ai vivennd reliable Ascut wsnlesl.
THOMPSON & SIMMONS..
'- Oeueral Aleuts, Memphis, Tenu.
Dr. J. l. McGKK,
i OenT. Acnt for West. Tenu., at Trenton, Tenn.
spt. i i;-i-'ui.
THE
i
OF SAIJfT LOUIS.
Otlor-i it services to tho people of
r : - i ...... ..... A ...1 l ,1. ... ; 1 1
' iSMe LiUO luiuiiiiiiic, mm xii uimu u,
r:,sr eral leature known to tho soieuee.
I N'lt loIieies are All Iffon-Forfc! table!
I ' j . After the payment of ONE Annual Premium.
'". So restriction Is iiuposel on
5 j States, BrltbU Provinces or fc.uTope.
' Xo!i but nullv extra hazardous occupation restricted.
liberality ot feature, absolute security
C I I'X hnvi iu claim for iirct'erment.
l ;- fh ou:ud ot oiHei'r t.ind unsunsed
; nuuciers.snj are uationai in their reputation.
OFFICEBS.
f , J A VI ICS J. 'KvLLoy, Pn'-ddent.
i ; A. -n. intl l -ro.Yvviee President.
p Ml. S. Uiil'U, AssisUut Secrcury. I W. HATCH, M. O., Me ileal Officer.
1 ? ' , ' DIRECTOKS,
i. ,U
Lueas, I. J, O'Kidlon,
A
tWa, S. A. Hatch,
4'V
as.'
. Home Oulce No.
i
Tl'heeli !rf & Hmiitou, State
!!
,DASIIIIXIJ,BJrjJ
"!'-xs -
& CLASSVARE,
a be 9 as the elicajeU
Mrect, JacL.son, Tennessee.
cxc!uiTC Jctaltr In
HATS & GA3S,
Mor.jJ iuck of Ladies, Mild
and Men, Boy ami Youth'
Hats and Caps.
luoiilmsn;)
iiohIuicud
Biio!Init(f)
gnoidiirs'i.)
kuoiduivio
euoidinvq
guoiilmtno
suoiduivq;)
Buoiduivqf)
nuoi'luivqf)
uo!:laiBl;)
saojilujvqf)
HUOIlIlU-BlIf)
Celebrated Champion Shoe
Goods!
New
upenor
Gcmn.
M. 11. Coovkb.
Balusters, Newel Posts, Flooring,
iiracacw, r.ii
STOCK OT
WES. MAY, Secretary;
t'.ll AS. T. PATTERSON, Asa't Sen ;
F. S. DAVIS, Treasurer.
F. M. White.
W. C. livland.
C. W. Kraaer.
J. W. MiCown.
t'lian. Knrtreeht,
V. U. t hcrrv,
S. Davis;
end of each policy year.
aunuid payments.
CITY
5552 Stuoidmuu.')
'itstmuw OuouiiAttii
West Tennessee as a candidate for
1.. ....tiuiii ..I w.. .. ii. ; .
ucluuiivuuu uy All tliu W1SU &1HI 11 -
travel or residence in tho Cnitea
and prudent management, the SI'JUND
in America lor their
skill and ability xa'a
i C. G. MeJI.VTTON.
N,Cineral AgenL
. Connlttn A.nuar
I W. K. tiAKVKY, Contnlttnz A-nuarr.
A. M. Waterman,
A. B. Garrison,
J . M. Harney,
lho.A.Kutell.
213, North Third Street.
A
uts, XashvUle,Tuinesee,
Plwllcai Examiner. '
"' ' '".,- I -
... , " ,.,' I . V"
rri
: w
VOL. XXVII.
Wllilf A ill ziufuitiA
-tJU-tUEl EVrllT 84TUl:r,
W. W. mm. W CAJiKR"? .
p. m. wisim x. J- T. nicks.
UniWr the Kirui and Stylo of
"W. "W. GATES & CO.
TKIIMH OF iri6CiHTtox. Two d J m
. year, tnvanar,iy in www
j Sinple copic 10 cent.
A t.VKRTlMO RiTW.-AJ'enirfl wnw
inTUtl fiT 1" Wt in " u"
will b charged tl lr -Ure of f lubt
line.rlM, for the rt insertion, ad tl
foreaih uliuent iintrtion.
ADVEBTISINQ 1CAT52S.
8 IO!TH.
I wjuare,
t -
i x as no
w column. J
; " 60 00
1 HH00
MONTHS.
ill) ou
50 t
1) fK
12 MOXTlia
f:Ma
4')
.V) OU
7.' OU
1U0 0I)
r-JT" On. inch pace eontitutea a MUare.
Where ad vertiacments are or.lerwd to tx?
uatiKUally displayed tbey will be cbareed
for according to the apace they occupy; one
leeh to eonnituU a Kiuare.
Sheriff, Clerka and n?er. who .end
u their pattonage will recve the hig
without charge.
rJTCASDrDAnta For announcing can
didatea lor County otlicea and tbe Ixrlsla
tur.IO; forConrea at; for Municipal
and civil dUtrict oalce, A-all in advance.
T. w ttmtm Dbmll t GUeThankt!
A little toy had Bought the pump
From whence the sparkling water, burst,
And drank with eager joy the draught
That kiudly quenched hi raging thirst.
Then gracefully he touched hia cap
"I thank you, Mr. Pump," he aaid,
"For thla nice drink you've rjven me!"
(This little boy hid beeu well bred.)
Then atd the I'ump, "My little man,
You'itf welcome to what 1 have done;
But I am not the one to thank
1 only help the water run."
Ob, then," the little fellow aaid,
( Polita he always meant to be, )
"Cold water, please accept my thanks,
You have been very kind to me."
"Ah! said cold water, "don't thank me;
Far up the lulls there Uvea the pring
That sends me forth with generoua hand
To gladden every living thing."
"I'll thank the spring, then," said the boy,
And (rraceftilly he bowed hia head.
"Ob, don't thank me, my little man,"
The spring with silvery accent said.
"Oh, don't thank me for what am I
Without the dew and summer rain!
Without their aid I ne'er eould quench
Your thirst, my iittlo boy, again."
"Ob, well, then," said the tittle boy,
" I gladly thank the rain and dew."
Tray UonH thank us without the suu
We eould not fill one cup for you."
"Then, Mr. Sun, ten thousand thanks
For al! tbst you have done for me."
"Stop!" suid the sun with blushing face,
"My little iellow, don't thank me.
Twas (rom the oceans mighty store
I drew the draught I gave to thee."
"Oh, ocean, thanks!" then aaid the boy
It echoed back, "Sot uuto inc.
"Not unto me, but unto lliiu
Who tonned tho depths In which 1 lie,
Oo, give thy thanks my little boy,
To him who will thy want suppiy."
The boy took off hia cap, and said,
In tones so gentle and suDtiuea,
Oh, Uod,l thauk Thee for this gilt,
Thou art the giver ol ail goou
, COrmA I'Al'LT.
A Leuea (or tbe Ymuj and old.
Mr. Benjamin Goodwin took his
Ahleat eon to the irreat -ty, for he
had obUincd as no thouifht anoxcei-
lent place for his boy. It waa a 8U-
ation in tne store oi ax. Anarcw
i'helns. Mr. Phelps was one or the
heaviest merchants of tho city; a
dealer in cloths of all kinds, descrip
tions, qualities and quantities, lie
had no partner; he was one of those
exact, nervous men who want no
second say in the way. It was near
noon when Mr. uooawin cnierea
tho merchant's counting-room, lead
ing his boy by the hand.
"I have brought my sou, Mr.
rhelps, as we had arranged, and I
am sure you will liud him punctual
and faithful."
"Ah, Master Gilbert; ahetn yts,
I like his looks. Hope he will prove
all you wish."
As the merchaut spoko in a mat
ter of fact sort of way, ho smiled
kindlv unon the bov. and then turn-
ins to the parent he resumod .
'Have you iouuu a ooaruiug piauu
for him yet?"
"Yes, sir, he will board with his
uuelo my wife's brother."
'Ah. that is iortunate. xuis
great city is a bad place tov boys
without irieuas. -
'Of course, sir," aiidcUMr. tiooa-
win. "ana vet l nope you win over
look his affairs a little."
Certainlv. what I can. Iut 01
courso you are aware that I shall see
little of him when ha is out of tho
store."
Mr. Goodwin said "of course,"
and there was a silence of soino mo
ments. The parent gazed down
upon the floor a Iittlo while, and
finally he said:
"There has been nothing sain yet,
Mr. Phelps, about the pay."
Tayf ' repcatcu tne mercnam.
"Yes, sir; what pay arc you will
ing to allow my son for his servi
ces?" Ah " said Mr. rhelps with a
bland smlleIseeyouare unacquain
ted with our customs. We ucver
pay any thing tho first year."
"No pay?" ottered Mr. Goodwin
somewhat surprised.. "But I am to
nav Gilbert's board nivself. and of
course I thought you would allow
hlin something for pocket money."
No, we never pay anything tne
tirst year. If you . were going to
send your son to an academy or col
lege, you would not expect the teach
ers to pay him for his studying."
"No, sir."
J ust so it is .lore. W e iooe upon
our apprcntico acre as a mercantile
scholar, and for tho first year ho can
be of little real benefit to us, though
all tlio while he is reaping valuable
knowledifo to himself. V hy, there
are at this moment fifty youngsters
whoso wealthy parents would bo
glad to get them into the berth you
have secured for your boy."
"Then you pay nothing," said the
parent, rather sadly.
"Not tho first year. will teach
him all we can, and at the end of
that time we shall retain him, if ho
is faithful and worthy and pay him
soinothinsr."
"Never mina my son, - ine parent
said, when he and his child were
alone, "lou nave ciomea enougn
to last you through tho year, aud
vou can sret along without much
more. Here is one dollar. It is all
I have over aud above what 1 must
use to get home; that will keep you
in spending money for some time.
But mind and be honest, my boy.
Come home to me when you please;
come in rairs and filth, if it may be.
but come with your truth aud hon
or untarnished."
The boy wiped a tear from his eye
as he gave the promise, and tho fath
er felt assured. It w as arranged that
tiilbert should havo two vacations
of a week each, ono in the Spring
and one at Christmas, and then
the Darcut left.
On the following morning, Gilbert
Goodwin entered the store to com
mence his duties, lie gazed around
upon the wilderness of cloth, and
wondered where the people were
who should buy all this; but he was
disturbed in his reverie by a spruce
young clerk, who showed him where
the wateringpot and broom were,
and informed him that his first duty
in the morning was to sprinkle ana
sweep the floor. So at it the boy
went, and when this was done he
was set at work carrying bundles
of cloth up stairs, where a man was
DilJinsr them away.
And so Gilbert's mercantile schol
. b.v - v v vmm p h- bb mm m m mm mm -mr mm bci m
JACKSON, TENNESSEE, SATURDAY,
while he
liome-sick, but
... . -.. .
the
lii in, and ere long he got rit of the
feclirvs. A mouth passed wt',
and at the end ot that time his
dollar was spent, lie had broken
it at tint to purchase a pocket knife
which he could not do without.
That took half of it. Then he had
attended a scientific lecture, lor
which he paid half of what was left,
and the rest hail dwind'ed away until
now he was without a penny. But
he boro up fur a while, lie saw
that the boys in the neighboring
stores had money to spend, but then
he thought they had rich fathers.
He knew that the generous parent
had already burdened himself with
more than be was abli; to bear with
comfort to himself, so he would not
send to hiui. And yet it was un
pleasant to be without money; to be
in that great city, where there was
so much for amusement and profit,
without even a penny to purchase a
moment of enjoyment, or a drop
of extra cumfort. No boy could be
more faithful than was Gilbert in
tho store. The clerks and salesmen
all loved him, and Mr. Phelps often
congratulated himnclf on having
obtained r.n excellent apprentice.
He worked early aud late, and he
worked hard, performed more
physical llxr than any one else in
the store, if we except the stout
Irish porter. -.
Ouo evening after the felore was
closed, Gilbert stood on tho front
steps with the key in his hand for
he was now entrusted with that
important implement when he was
joined by a lad named Baker, who
held the same position in an adjoin
ing store that Gilbert did A.
Phelps'.
"Sav, Gil, going to tho concert to
night?" asked Baker.
"No; I can't."
"Can't! Whv not?"
"Why to tell the plain truth, Jim,
I haven't got tho money."
"Pooh! Come along. " I'll pay the
shot.''
"But I do not wish to run in debt
Jim, for 1 may never pav you."
"Pay me? Who talked about pay
ing? If 1 offer to pay that's enough.
Corno along. It'll be a glorious con
cert." "But I must go and get some sup
per." "No; go with me and get supper."
But Gilbert could not go without
letting his aunt know; so Baker
walked round that way with him.
Then they went to tho restaurant;
here Baker paid for the supper. He
had several bank notes, aud poor
Gilbert gazed upon them with
longing looks. Oh, if lfo could only
have a little money! Say one dollar
a week, or one dollar in two weeks
how much happier he would feel !
As soon as they hail eaten supper,
they went to tho concert room, and
Gilbert was charmed with the sweet 1
music he heard. He fancied it had
a noble influence upon him, and
that it awoke a more generous im- j
pulso in his soul. But alas! how
cau a man or youth be over gener
ous, with au empty pocket always? 1
From this time James Baker was
Gilbert's firm friend, as the world
goes. The latter told.his secrets to
Jim, and in return he heard all his
friend's.
"Say, Gil, how is it you never
have any money?" Baker asked, they
were to together one evening in
front of tho store, after having
locked up.
"Why," returned Gilbert, with
some hesitation, "to tell you the
Flaiutruth, my father is too poor,
le has dono enough for me now
more than be cau well afford. He
has .never asked mo to work on the
farm, but he has sent me to school
and now ho is paying my board
while I learn to be a merchant. But
nit father i trood if ho is poor." '
"Of course ho is," warmly rcpled
Baker. "That's where you find your
warm hearts, among the poor. But
don't you make tho store pay for
taking care of it?"
"No, Mr. Phelps pays uothiug for
the first year."
"Why, are you in earnest, Gil?
Haven't you got any money for
j'our hard work?"
"No, not a penny. Two dollars
is all the money I have had since 1
have been here, and those my father
gave me."
Well, you ro a moral miproDa-
bility, a regular anomaly. Why; I
make the 6tore pay mo something.
Mind you, I don't call it stealing, for
it isn t. My master receives the
benefit of all my work, and 1 am en
titled to something in return. He
is rich while I am poor. Mv hard
work' turns money into his till, and
shall I dig and delve and lug my life
for nothing? .No. When 1 want a
little money I take it. Did I take
enough to squander and gamble
away, as some do, 1 should call it
stealing; but I dou't, Yet I must
have something. How do you sup
pose our masters think we live
without money? They don't think
so; if they do they must be natural
born fools. That's all I've got to
sav about it."
But how do you do ii? asked
Gilbert, tremulously.
"How? Why, sometime 1 help
myself to a few hankerchlefs, which
1 sell; and sometimes I take a gen
tle peep at the money drawer."
Whcnuiibcrt trood win went to
his bed that night there was a de
mon with him. The tempter had
come. For a long time there had
been a shadowy, uusty form hover
ing over him, but not until now had
it taken palpable shape. Ho allow
ed himself to reason on tho subject
but not yet was his mind made
up. On the following morning he
mot young uaKcr again, ana learned
mat ail mo apprcuuecsuu lue sueet
did the same thing.
A week passed ou, aud during
that time Gilbert gave the tempter
a home in his bosom. He daily
pondered upon tne amount of phys
ical labor ho performed. He saw
all the others with money, and he
wondered if any one could possibly
get along without that circulating
commodity, rinally tne evil hour
came. The constant companionship
of young Baker had bad its influence,
and the shaft bad strucK its marK.
bright eyed lovely girl had asked
Gilbert to carrv her to an evening's
entertainmeut. 1 he boy loved that
girl loved her with the whole ar
der of his youthful soul and he
conld not refuse her. At noon he
was left alone in the store. Several
leonle came in, mostly tailors, and
ought paying cash. Gilbert did
not stop to consider; the spell was
unon him. and he kept back a two
dollar bill.
That afternoon he suffered much.
He dared not look the clerks in the
face: though he was suro that some
oftheiu did the same thing. In tho
evening he accompanied his fair
companion to the entertainment,
aud though he tried to bo nappy,
yet he could not
That night the boy rlept, and
while he slept he dreamed. His fa
ther aud mother come to him all
pale and sad, .and told him he had
disgraced them forever.
Ou the following morning he en
tered the storo as usual, and his
duties were performed silently and
sadly. The clerks asked him "if he
was sick and he told them no. To
ward the middle of tho forenoon Mr.
Thelps came in, and entered the
coununs-room. Gilbert watched
him until he was alone, and then he
moved towards the place. His
heart beat wildlv, and his face was
pale as death, but he did not hesi
tate, lie entered the counting-
room, and sank into a chair.
"Gilbert, what is the matter?" ut
tered the merchant, kindly.
The bov collected all nts enersriea
and in a low and painful tone he an
swered
"I have come to tell vou that
can remain here no longer, sir I
T-
"What, going to leave me?" utter
ed the merchant in surprise, as the
boy hesitafed. "No, no, Gilbert.
If yo'j are sick you shall have a good
physician. 1 can't- lose vou now
'Hear me. sir. resumed tho bov.
Borne what emboldened by bis nut
ter's kind tone, but yet speaking in I
.. ..f i i fnnat tfll vou all
and X trust in vonr gentifUa wo;
for pardon. But I caauot stay here.
Listen, sir, and blame mt if you
will, but believe me not lost yet.
My father is poor, too poor to keep
me here. I have learned the ways
of the city. I have longed for
some of those innocent, healthy
amusements which I have seen my
companions cujoying. For long
weeks together l-'bave beeu with
out a penny ia my pocket, and at
such times I have felt much shame
in view of my extreme poverty.
My fal her ha given me two dollors
one when he left me here, and one
when he came to visit me. But
what was that? nearly all of it went
for small articles I absolutely need
ed. Lectures, concerts and various
other kinds of healthy entertain
ments were visited b) my compan
ions, bat ' could not go. At length
the fatal knowledge wit mine that
others of my station Lad money, for
such things money that they took
from their employers with out leave.
1 pondered upon it long and deeply,
aud in pondering 1 w as lost. Yes
terday 1 took two dollars "
Here the poor .boy burst into
tears; but the merchant said not a
word. In a few moments Gilbert
resumed:
"Yon know tho WOlSt now.
tOOKlUmuiapartfilJi X uJ-
night: but 0, 1 want no more
hours
hours of agony such as I have pass
ed fcince that time. Here is a doJ
lar'aud a half, sir. Take it, and
when I get home I will seud you the
rest. O, let me go., for I cannot stay
where temptation haunts me. Away
in the solitude of my father's farm
I shall not want the money 1 can
not have.
"You may say that I have had exi
perience; but alaii! that experience
only clla me that while 1 remain
here the tempter must be with me.
1 would not long for what I cannot
possess. While I have wants and
desires, the wish must be present to
gratify them. Let me go, sir; bnt
oh, tell not my shame!"
The boy stoppt and bowed his
head. The merchant gazed upon
him in silence, and a variety of
shades passed over his countenance.
'Gilbert," he said at length, in a
low, kind tone, "you must not leave
me. x or a rew moments l wm ror
get the difference in our -tations,
and speak A3 plainly as you have
poken. I have been iu the wrong,
freely confess. 1 should have
known that temptation was thrown
in your way a temptation that
should not be cast in the way of any
person, much less an inexperienced
outb. bince you have been so
nobly frank, 1 will bo equally so.
Forgive me the situation in which I
placed you, and the past shall be
forgotten. Until this moment 1 nev
er thought seriously of this subject;
I never before realized how direct
was the temptation thus placed be
fore the apprentices of our houses.
But I see it all now. I know that to
a poor boy, who has no money, the
presence of both money and costly
amusements most be too fearful a
temptation for ordinary youths. But
you shall not leave.
"i rom this moment i snail trust
ou implicitly, aud I shall love you
for your noble disposition and fine
sense of honor. 1 shall not fear to
trust you henceforth, for you shall
have pecuniary recompense some
what commensurate with the labor
rou perform. I havo often blessed
tho hour that brought you to my
store, for I have seen in you a valu
able assistant; and if 1 havo ever
held a lingering doubt of your strict
integrity. I shall hold it no more, for
it requires more strength of moral
purpose to acknowledge, unasked, a
crime, than it does to keep from
committiuc one. Never again will
accept the labor of any person
without paying him for it, and then
if he is dishonest no blame can at
tach to me. Yon will not leave me,
Gilbert?"
The boy gazed up into Lis employ
er's face, but for a while tears and
sobs choked his utterance. Mr.
Phelps drew him to his side and lay
ing his band upon the youth's head,
he resumed:
If I blame vou for this moment
ary departure from strict honesty,
the love I bear for your noble con
fession vastly more than wipes it all
away. Henceforth you shall have
enough for all your wants, aud when
tbe year is np we will inaice an ar
rangement that can but please you.
What say you, will you stay?"
Ii if 1 only Jaiew tnat vou win
never abhor me for this "
Stoo. Gilbert. I have snoken to
yon the truth and. you need have no
fear. I will pay 3-oa-three dollars a
week for your own amusement and
instruction, aud when you want
clothes aud other matters of like ne
cessity, if you will speak to me you
shall have them. ' All the past is tor
gotten, save your many virtues, and
henceforth I know you only for what
you shall prove."
On beit tried in vain to tell his
gratitude, but the merchant saw it
all; and with tears in his eyes, he
blessed the boy. and then bade him
go about his work.
The year passed away, and then
another boy came to take Gilbert's
place; for the latter took; his station
in the counting room. Bnt the new
boy came not as the boys had come
before. The merchant "promised to
pay him so much per week, enough
for all practical purposes, and then
he felt that he should not be respon
sible for the boy's honesty.
At the age of seventeen Gilbert
Goodwin took the place of one of
the assistant book-ketpers, ana at
nineteen he took his place at the
head of the counting room; for to
an aptness at figures and au untir-
mg application to duty, txe aaaea a
strength of moral integrity which
made his services almost invaluable.
Aud now he has grown up to be a
man, and the bright-eyed girl who
was so intimately connected with
that one dark hour of his life, has
been his wife several years. He is
6till in the house of Mr. Phelps, and
occupies the position of business
partner, the old merchant having
given up work, and now trusting
all to his youthful associate. Gil
bert Goodwin has seen many young
men fall, and he has oiten shuddered
in view of the wide road of tempta
tion which is open to so many more;
and he will havo no-persons iu his
employ to whom he cannot afford to
pay a sum sufficient to remove them
from inevitable temptation.
PlSHEARTKXr.BS. It is cheap
aud easy to destroy. There is not a
jovful boy or innocent girl, buoyant
with fine" purposes of duty, iu all
the street lull or eager aud rosv
faces, but a cuuic can chUl and
dishearten with a single word.
Despondency ccaies readily enough
to the most sanguino people. The
cynic has only to follow the hint
with His bitter connrniation, and
they go Uptne with heavier step and
premature age- They will them
selves quickly enough give the hint
he wants to the cold wretch. Which
of them has not failed to please
where they most wished to please?
or blundered where they were most
ambitious of success? found them
selves awkward., or tedious, or in
capable of study, thought, or hero
ism, and only hoped by good sense
and fidelity to do what they could.
and pass unblamed? And this wick
ed malefactor makes their little hope
less with satire and skepticism, and
slackens the spiiugs of endeavor.
Y'es, this is eay; but to help the
young soul, add energy, inspire
hopes, and blow the coals into a use
ful flame: to redeem defeat by new
thought, by firm action, that is not
easy that is the work of divine
men. Jt. W. Emerson.
The common. course of things is
in favor of happiness as the rule,
misery the exception. Were the or
der observed, oiir attention would
be called to examples of health and
competency, in 1 tead of disceaseand
wsmt. ! '.. y,-:-
. . . ---H
Ppwlar Similes.
A pve a a bird as dead a a stone;
As plump as a partrldi as poor as a rut.
As strong a a horeXa weak as s eat;
As hard as a flint sis soft as a mole,
As white a a lily as black as a ml;
A plain as a piketaff as rough Ss a bear.
As ti;bt a a drum aa free as the air. ,'
Ai heavy as lead ai light as a feather '
Atsteady astiutt a uncertain a weather;
As hot as an oven as cold as a fn, -
As gay as a lark as tick as a dog; , v.
As stow as a tortoifce ss swift aa Out Wind,
As true as the gor.pel as falsa as maukiod;
Aa thin a a herring as tat as a pig, 1 -Ai
proud as a peacock aa blith At a i rig;
A savage as tigers as mild as a 'Jove,)
As stiff as a poker as limp as s love;
As Und as a bat as deaf as poet, ;
Ar eol as a cucumber as wars as a tout;
Asilat as a flounder as'rouad ta a W.I,
As blunt aa a hammer as sharp as a awl;
As straight as aa arrow s crooked as a
bow, . y i
As yellow as saffron as blark aa a slur;
As brittle as glass a. tough a gristle, -A
next as my nail as cl as a whistle;
At good as a feast as bad aa a witch,
As light as is day as dark as hfH-fc;J' f "
As brisk as a bee as dull, as aa aas
As full as a tick as solid a brass;
1 a braaa;
-ss rich aa a Jew,
At lem as a greyhound
And Ulkthouaand simile equally weW,
Spwrgeeu !rea.calg twealf
Th.aiaas PrrMa.
Tho London correpondcnt of the
Boston Advertiser says:
"I ouce . heard Mrv Spurgeon
preach in the Crystal Palace to twen
ty thousand persons. Whichever
way yon looked yon saw a mass of
human beings. His wife sat imme
diately below his pulpit. She grew
frightened and began to shed tears.
Mr. Spurgeon observed her, and
calling some one to him, sent, a mes
sage asking her to sit where she
could not look at him, and after she
bad moved her nervousness passed
away. So little did he exert himself
that I could not believe the people
at the rim of the circle could hear,
but I was wrong.
"When the doxology after the
sermon had been sung, the great
Baptist preacher, with the familiari
ty which seems to be allowed to par
ticular men, said: 'No, no; that will
not do. Not half of you sung then.
Let us have the words again, and let
everyone join. Mr. Organist, please
play tbe verse once more.' Tne or
gan was at the extreme end, scarce
ly in sight. The organist looked
1-ke a black dot. Bnt he heard the
little stout man in tbe pulpit, and
turning to the keys sent forth a glo
rious volume of music And tbe
people heard as well; the five thous
and singers became twonty thous
and. It was wonderful to find those
enormous regiments of singers sud
denly joining the rest."
1 . .. . .
a vial i; 190O.
Can any one realize the exceeding
ly rrobable fact that in 1900 only
twenty-nino years from now the
population of the United States will
nunber 75,000,000 of citizens? Yet,
sayt a contemporary, Mr. Samuel
F. Ruggles proves that this will be
the case, without making allowance
for annexations, North and South,
tha: will certainly come about, Mr.
Sumner and all others to the con
trary notwithstanding He) shows i
the reasons tor his prophecy in ng- ,
nrei, and although the old saw ,
that "figures won't lie" is the most
unveracious of proverbs, Mr. liug-
gles' figures have acquired a reputa-;
lion 01 tneir own auu a goou ouo at
that.
r or the past tnirty or forty
years, he has been figuring about
our internal and domestic com
merce; and, although he has often
been accused of romancing in fig
ures, the have always sustain
ed . his predictions. When, there
fore, the ablest, the most experienc
ed, and most' trustworthy statisti
cian now living, tells us that we
shall have a population of 75,000,000
in 1900, the younger part of the pre
sent generation may as well consid
er what awaits them in their matu
rity and old age. Seventy-five mil
lions of people in the United States
implies the settlement of the entire
South and West by as dense a po
pulation as that of Massachusetts;
the reclamations of the arid wastes
of the great plains by irrigation; the
developments of States as strong
as Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois along
theJUocky mountains; the settlement
of the Utah Basin by four or five
kuillions of agricultural and pas to
nal people; tbe development or a
tier of agricultural States along our
northern border, from Lake Superi
or to tho Pacific, as populous and
prosperous as Missouri and Minne
sota; the growth of the Pacific States
into commonwealths as rich and po
pulous aa New York and Pennsyl
vania. It means that New York
will cover the whole of Manhatten
Island with a population of at least
two millions, to say nothing of the
outlying suburbs in New Jersey and
across the East river; that Chicago
and St. Louis will each become as
large citic6 in fact, as they are now
in their own estimation, and that
San Fraucisco will have half a mil
lion of inhabitants. Such are the
glowing visions which are excited
by the prosaic and careful figures
of Mr. Buggies.
A Renaaxkakle Starjr.
A correspondent of the Richmond
Dispatch says:
After the first battle of Manassas,
Jamaca A. Burton, of Cobb coun
ty, Ga. belonging to Capt, Jiang's
company. Seventh Georgia regiment
wasbrougnt to iiellevue Hospital
with a rifle-ball wound in the ceni
ter of his forehead. He seemed per-I
rectiy wen, wais-mg auoui as 11 notn
ing was the matter. I procured for
him a home-in a private family,
where, on the the third or fourth
day afterwards, the ball, which had
lodged between the btull and lin
ing of the brain, by suppuration
reached and rested on the brain,
producing spasms and- death in a
6hort time.
Before I left him on the day of
his arrival in Richmond, he told me
he was 27 years old and his wife was
22 years old; that they had fourteen
children nine boys and five girls,
that his wife had twins six times;
that eleven of them were going to
school. When he left home, all
were alive; and not one of his chil
dren, his wife, or himself had ever
had three days' sickness since their
marriage. He was a fine looking
man, six tect and one inch high, and
weighed laO pounds: that he was tbe
smallest of six brothers, and that
his parents raised six boys and
twenty.one girls. This statement
was made in a calm, modest, man
ner, which seemed characteristic
of the man, in the presence of myself
andthellev. P. li. Price, of which
I mide a date at the time, aud to
day, by accident, came across and
now give it to the public.
. - .
' Table Ce.WYcrsatle.il.
A great deal of character is im
portant and received at the table.
Parents too often forget this; and
therefore, - instead of swallowing
your food in sullen silence, instead
of brooding over your business, in
stead of severely talking about oth
ers, let the conversation at the ta
ble be genial, kind, social and cheer
ing. Do not bring disagreeable
things to the table in your conversa
tion any more than you would in
your dishes. For this reason too the
more good company you have at
your table the better for your chil
dren. Every conversation with com
pany at your table is an educator of
the family, ilence tne intelligence
and the refinement, and the appro
priate beb.av.ior of a family which is
riven to hospitality. Never feel
"that intelligent visitors can be any
thing but a blessing to you and
yours. How few have; fully gotten
hold of tbe fact that company and
couversatiou are no small part of
cducatioa- lr.o. .
JULY29, 1871.
- r-. . - -.e. . .. .
Iiitu,-a Methodist preacher in
Texas, advertised a barbecue, with
better liquor than is usually fur
niried. When the people assembled,
a desperado in the crowd cried out,
"Mr. l'anl Denton, your reverence
has lied. You promised not only a
good barbecue, but better liquor.
Where's the liquo-?"
"There!" answered the mission
ary in tones of thunder, and point
ing his long, bony finger at the
matchless double spring, gushing up
in two strong columns, with a sound
like a shout of jov, from the bosom
of the earth. "There!" he repeated,
with a look terrible as lightning,
while his enemy actually trembled
at his feet; "there is the liquor which
God, the Eternal, brews for His
children.
"Not in the simmering still, over
smoky fires choked with poisonous
gases, and surrounded with the
stench of sickening odors and cor
ruption, doth your Father in heaven
prepare the precious essence of life
pare cold water. But in the glade
aud grassy dell, where the red dear
wander and the child loves to play,
there God brews iuaud-Iawn, tow
down in the dowycstvallevs, -where
the fountain murmurs and the rills
sing; andnightip ou the mountain
toi-g. where the. naked rajiito niitr.
ters like gold in the sun, where the
storm clouds brood and the thunder
storms crash; and out on the wild,
wide sea, where the hurricane howls
music, and the big waves roar the
chorus, sweeping tbe match of God
there He brews it the beverage
of life, health-giving water. Aud
everywhere it is a thing of beauty,
gleaming in the dewdrop, sicgiug in
the summer rain, shining in the ice
gem, till they seem turned to living
jewels; spreading a golden v&il over
tho setting sun, or a white gauze
around the midnight moon; sport
ing in the cataract, sleeping iu the
glacier, dancing in tho hall-shower;
folding its bright curtains softly
around tho wintry world, and
weaving the many-colored bow, that
seraph's sone of the air, whose warp
is the rain-drops of the earth, and
whose woof is the sunbeams of
heaven, all checkered over with the
celestial flowers of the mystic hand
of refraction that blessed life-giving
water. No poison bubbles
on its brink; its foam brings wot
madness and murder; uo blood
stains its liquid glass; pale widows
and starving children weep not burn
ing tears in its depths! Speajc out,
my friends; would you exchange it
for the demon's drink alcohol?"
A shout like the roar of the
tempest answered, "No!" John If.
Gough.
THE SO.16.
'Tia not the murmuring voice of Spring
That stirs my heart and makes me sing;
Tis not the blue skies, bubbling o'er
With sunihiae spilled along earth's floor;
Nor yet the flush of bursting rose,
Sot bloom of any flower that grows,
It is that long, long years ago,
When all the world was blushing so -
It is that then my cheek blushed too.
My heart beat fast for love and you; .
There was a music ln the air
I fail to find now anywhere.
And so, when Spring somes wandering by,
1 luae the thread of misery;
Trusting the promise of her day,
j tune my voice to sing her praise,
AnU cheat mjiuAt wIln gweet pilia
Thllt ln n ,0Te bloonil
A Ntavkl Faussllr (.trls.
The lata Judge Daniel E. Gris
wold, whilom law-partner of the
now venerable C. F. Sanford, and
son-in-law of aucient David Dun
ham, the patron of Itobert Fulton,
and the Vanderbilt of his genera
tion, was the father of eight daugh
ters. Mary S. Griswold, the oldest.
now deceased, married Brantz May
er, of Baltimore, a lawyer and au
thor of old-time celebrity, who will
be remembered as the writer of
"Mexico as It Was and Is," and
Captain Canot; or, Twenty Years
as an African Slaver," dedicated to
his friend and college mate at Yale,
N. P. Willis; also as a contributor
to Harper. Helen E. is relict of the
late Joseph Harrington, brother of
Minister Harrington, and a celebrat
ed Unitarian clergyman. Mr. Har
rington was the personal friend of
Starr King, who was the first to en
courage Bret liarte in the literary
profession. Georgiana married the
late medical celebrity of the West,
Dr. John Jay Stuart. Matilda S. is
the wife of L. T. Zander, a musical
composer of promise, resident in
California. Adelaide A., lately de
ceased, was tho wife of Amherst
Wight, the artist-lawyer of Wall
street, and brother of Wight, the
well-known draftsman. Edmonde
Andrade, nephew of the great back
er of Paris, Periere, who originated
the famous Credit Mobilier, is the
husband of Caroline D., another of
the eight. He is a millionaire, as
well as a celebrity n musical circles.
Anna Griswold is the wife of Fran
cis Bret liarte a name too familiar
to need more than mention. Jo
sephine M., the youngest, well
known as au author and contributor
to the leading periodicals of tbe day,
is Mrs. Francis Gerry Fairfield. Mr.
Fairfield is a nephew of tbe late
Sumner Lincolu Fairfield, is largely
known as a journalist, critical es
sayist and writer of fiction, both
poetic and prosaic. The eight
ladies mentioned are, or have been,
all celebrated in their circle for
their brilliant talents in the specialty
of music; aud three of them have
made theirniark in literature.
The Boy that Taid his Debt.
A New Y'ork paper says that the
other day a little son of a well
known bank officer in Wall street
lost his purse while coming from
Central Park, and a stranger, seeing
his discomfort, paid his railroad fare,
three cents. The boy, thanking
hiia said: "If you will tell me your
name, I will bring it to you to-morrow."
"Oh, no," said the gentle
man, "never mind about it." The
boy persisted, saying his father nev
er allowed him to run in debt. "I
will not give yon my name," re
plied the gentleman, but I live at
No. , on strest." The next
morning the door bell rang at that
house, and our little hero told the
ainnsed servant maid his errand.
"Which of the gentlemen is it?"
said she; "there are several in the
family." The boy twisted on his
heel, and after a moment's thought
said, "Have you a photograph book
in the house?" She brought it, and
turning over its pages, he said,
pointing to one, "That's the one.
Please give him these three cents.
and tell him that the boy who bor
rowed it in the cars yesterday left it
to pay his debt."
In ancient times there stood iu the
citadel of Athens three statues of
Minerva. The first was of olive
wood, and, according to the popular
tradition, nau fallen from heaven.
The second was of bronze, commem-
c-r&ting the victory of Marathon;
and the thin I of gold and ivory a
great miracle of art in the age of Pe
ricles. And thus in the citadel of
time stands man himself. Iu child
hood, shaped of soft and delicate
wood, just fallen from heaven; in
manhood, a statue of bronze, com
memorating struggle and victory;
and lastly, in the maturity of age.
perfectly shaped in gold aud ivory
a miracle of art. uyperion.
1 can believe there may be bappy
souls who have transcended the
need of prayer, and for whom other
men's prayes ould . be superfluous
and intrusive. But 1 have not yet
known actual ifflife one who canal
ways soar into the air of -thought,
and feel no flagging wing, no need
to be sustained and strengthened at
intervals by the aid of his bi other .
NO. 39.
StflharM la Hcllflvta.
to display it or to hide it ! A friend
thus utters a warning. I wish to
ask those who minister daily at the
altar, whether they sufficiently warn
their hearers that it is as easy to be
selfish in religion as iu anything else,
and that selhshne is the opposite
of true religion ? I have often list
ened (o the statements of professing
Christians iu prayer-met tin g-4, de
claring how much they love Christ,
because lie has done so much for
them, and is going at last to take
them to a beautiful home above,
yet no word of caution was spoken
that there is danger of trusting for
salvatio 1 to a love founded on favors
alone, ilow natural for us to love
those who love us ; vet no conversion
is ueceaaary for such a love. Christ
says, "For if ye love them which
love you, jrhat reward have ye? Do
not evenrthe publicans the same?"
We ma be grateful for favors with
out bding selfish, but we cannot be
sclaSn aud at the same time grate
ful. If wo would truly love God,
we mast love Him for his eocdness,
which is an attribute of I lis rhunu.
ter, and is manifested not only to us
but to others also, in purposes of
justice to those who are lost. We
must love Him not only ia the sun
shine, but also in the shadow, when
dark cloud traver t-i.be bright ahiu-
mg 01 me sun. uou always remains
the same worthy object of love,
whatever may be our condition in
this life, or in that which is to come.
If we are not saved it will not de
tract from His gooduees, or lessen
our obligations to love Him.
. m . .
Thk Road to Success. Fortune,
success, lame, position, are never
framed but by determinedly, bravelv
slicking aud living to a thing till it
is fairly accomplished. In short.
you must carry a thing through, if
you want to be anybody or anything.
o matter if it does cost yon the
pleasure, the society, the thousand
yearly gratifications of life. No
matter for these. Stick to the thine-
ana carry it tnrougn. ueiieve vou
were made for the matter and that
no one else cau do it. Put forth
your whole energies. lie awake,
electrify yourself, and go forth to
the task. Only once learn to carrv
a thing through in all iu complete
ness and proportion, and vou will
become a hero. Yon w ill think bet
ter of yourself; others will think
better of you. The world in its
very heart admires the stern, deter
mined doer. It sees iu him its best
sight, its brightest object, its rich
est treasure. Drive right along.
then, in whatever yon undertake.
Consider yourself amply sufficient
for the deed. 1 ou'll be successful
Lack mad Lassr.
Two boys left, last week, their
country homes to seek their fortunes
in the city.
"I shall see what lues: will do for
me," said one.
"I shall see what labor will do for
me cried the other.
Which is the better to depend
upon, iuck or taoor." zet us see.
Luck ts always waiting for some
thing to turn up.
Labor win turn up something. .
Luck lies abed wishing.
Labor jumps up at six o'clockand
with busy pen or ringing hammer
lays the foundation - of a compe
tence.
Luck whiucs; labor whistles.
luce relies ou cnances; labor on
character.
Luck slides down to indolence.
Labor strides upwards to inde
pendence.
Winch is nxeiy to do tbe most for
you, boys.' .
A dead man sits on all our judg
ment scats: and living ludges 1
but search out and repeat his decis
ions, w e read in dead men's books.
We lautrh at dead men's iokes. and
cry at ucaa men's pathos, we are
. V . .. -. 1
sick with dead men's diseases, phys
ical and moral, and die of the same
remedies with which dead doctors
killed their patients. We worship
the living Deity according to dead
men's forms and creeds. Whatever
we seek to do of our free motion.
dead man's icy hands obstruct us.
An Electbio Joke. Some
weeks ago ono of these illegitimate
sons of science, the vagrant electric
men, opened out in the streets, with
his dial of testing how much tor
ture his voluntary victims could
stand. To stimulate trade, he kept
atanding offer to pay $5 to whoever
could stand as much electric fluids
as his machiue would furnish. One
day, a boy presented himself and an
nounced that he had come to win 4o.
The man banded him the "handles,"
and started the machine. The boy
stood it wondertuny. 1 he operator
turned the crank faster, and asked
the boy how it felt. The boy said
it did not feel . at all. The "man
thought something must be the mat
ter, and commenced an elaborate
tightening up of the scfews, and
then commenced another series of
swift revolutions, which ought to
have produced a current sufficient to
kill the boy; still he laughingly as
sured tbe fellow that he did not ex
pereuce the slightest sensation. - j '
Out of patience, the man demand
ed to see his bands, ana then tbe se
cret was explained. The boy be
longed to the telegraph office, and
had picked up one of tbe pieces, of
insulated wire now being put up in
side tbe office, and had passed it o
one sleeve of his coat, around hi
shoulders, and down the other
sleeve, and then uncovered the ends
of the wire in each hand. Thus arm
ed, he had gone to tbe electric man:
of course, tbe uncovered ends of the
wire pressed against the metallic
handles. r resell ted a better medium
than the boy's body, and the current
simply passed to them and along the
insulated wire aroand the boy's bo
dy, without touching him. The
"electrician" was very mad, and all
the more so, as the crowd drawn to
gether, thought it a good joke, aud
took the boy's part. Tbe man was
so laughed at that he" left towu.
Scunttjic American,
.
.tight aad day.
What a beautiful thought embodi
ed in these words or Holy writ, aud
the evening and tbe morning were
the first day, and the evening and
the morning were tbe secondT day.'
Morning has, and ever will, follow
the evening; ana though our whole
life may seem like one continued
night, it shall be socceeded by the
brightness of etemul day. In our
customary method of computing
time we reckon that day commences
at twelve o'clock, and that we have
both its extremes shrouded in dark
ness. A similar idea have we of
life, of morning's childhood and
evening's old age. But it need not
be thus with the Christian's life, for
the evening time may be brightened
with the radiance of our heavenly
r atners countenance; so that which
seems to us like a beautiful sunset
scene, is really but a 6ingle ray from
which tuners in tne glorious resur
rection morning. We read of those
in ancient time who died 'old and
full of days,' yet how many have
died being old and full of nights.
Evil thoughts and deeds, unthank-
fulness ana complaint, are such as
make up our nights. Our days are
made up of pure deeds, sorrows pa
tiently borne, of loving smypathy to
the poor, bereaved one, little acts
and looks of kindness, which bring
Dae: me giau sunsnine to some
weary souls, and as calm to tb
wounded spirit. They are ue
bright, preciours gems, wd-ose ra
diance sparkles throuir" all time,
and by whose clea- "ght we can be
hold the high-) cast.up for the
ransomed of the Lord.'
... - .
As the diamond is found in the
darkness of the mine, as the lightn
ing shoots with the most vivid flash
es from the gloomiest cloud, so does
niirtul"uines freqaently proceed
from a heart susceptible of the dee
cat -ueiiutlioJj'.
, uiruu, .11. HHJ liJJIUi ;
AbsIVW Lt(iJ w'.:araa.y acbert. .
WnUtVI 7 i-Aotv ales r. Vy
tsie.
Scw-v yo bck! Shias oat brishrr o
Take fip your arms! Wheel ial
WUrsl in! I.',' fiends are passing near
To ; aa Ue tLyixrft - aru.il i
AdvaUe: wnutlm now, of fears,
Are not tar gallant hearts to fed '.
J sMIsSBW'ieM sHs saMtMsjp tftfivna, - -
When vainly vlr strove to via;
The cloud, are gnc! hlae owt, Lriirht
reye.
Take np your anas! Wheel ia!
Wheel hi! though dust and shadows thus ,
Obaeure our deae but broken Uoe
Though Waterloo it senued to us,
Yet now again the sun'bjbt shiac.
Hard hand are clasping band as hard
Our thickening rank await the din;
No patter eaa new our eourse retard;
Take up your arm: Wheel hi!
Wheel in! the poor man's place i. here.
Mechanic! frm la aolid line!
For Eiual Right we'll persevere! . ,
Let good mea everywhere combik
So more is heard, "What of the nightr
Tbe shroud ef darkness grows more this;
The watchword, soldier. Victory! Cight!
Take op yoor armsl Whtel ia!
THE SLailBLB WAV.
BY HASRIR II A Liu
Did lever tell you how our Meg
took this staid old town by surprise
one bright summer's day? -Yo
Well. 1 never enjoyed anything
more in my life.
1 ou see Woodbury U Juki like all
small towns everybody knows ev
ery one else's business, and a wed
ding is a "nine days' wonder."
Each bride-elect must have a sewing
woman in the house for weeks, man
ufacturing garments by the doxen,
(enough to last lifctimo, if there
was any wear in them, which there
isn't;) these are placed on private
exhibition, and happy the girl who
ran muster the greatest number.
And the fuss and feathers, "vanities
and vexation of spirit" that it takes
to get her finally married,! enough
to appall one.
.Now, Jleg thought all this very
foolish, and said, aside from the
trouble and ex pen sc.. she could nev
er endure to have her private auairs
so dragged out to public view, ho
when John ware .askea her to
"double his toys and divide bis sor
rows," she began to consider now
she conld best prove herself consis
tent, for she had exproesed herself
pretty freely oa the subloct. and
people had said, "Wait till your time
comes, and see if you won't want to
do married alter tne most approved
fashion." So, aside from her no
tions of common sense and econo
my, she bad the fear of ridicule and
the exasperating "I told yon so," to
keep her to her purpose. And, last
but not least, the fun of getting the
start of the gossips presented strong
indnccments to our mischievous
Meg.
John readily agreed to ber plans.
"It didn't matter to him," he said,
"how it was done, provided - the
knot was tied good and strong, and
the word 'obey' wasn't omitted
Her brother Dick declared she
was a "trump," and he was glad
there was some sense left among the
women. I, of course, sided with
Meg, but sister Sarah entered a pro
test "It would look so strange,
and Joseph would call it a stingy
arrangement.
"Whv. mother." laughed Mcsr. "I
never suspected you of being one of
Mrs. orundy's slaves.
"But, Meg, dear, I'm abundantfy
able, and would rather make you a
wedding aud invite your friends.'
"But, mother dear, I dou't scant a
wedding, and if you have any sur
plus means that vou dou't know
how to dispose of, vou can let John
and me have it to begin housekeep
ing. And as to inviting my friena$,
you know we cou;d never stop them;
and, besides, invitations to wed
dings have come to mean such bare
faced hints fur prcscuts. that
should be positively ashamed to
send them out. If any one hives
me well enough to give me a little
something when I go to housekeep
ing, I shall accept it gliuJIy, but I
couldn't bear that people should feel
obliged to give because it would be
thought strange if their names were
not among the display of presents."
"Well, my child, 1 suppose you
ought to be allowed to have it as
you choose, but 1 don t like your
plan at all."
And it was really an act of self
denial for the fond mother to launch
her pet child on the "Sua of Matri
mony" without all the eclat of a
fashionable wexlding. liiit Meg car
ried the day, as usual, and aa John
was impatient, lover-like, and she
didn't believe in long engagements
herself, she began her preparations
at once.
With her own deft fingers Meg
fashioned ber trouticau, tbe con
tents of which vou could almost
have counted on the fingers of your
. 1 , . 1 . 1 .
two nanus; out me suctnes were
daintily Bet, aud the happy thoughts
which kept time with the merry
clatter of her sewing machine made
each garment seem precious to her.
Tucks there were in abundance, and
r utiles, but little embroidery and no
lace nothing that would fall i-ito
tatters at the third time, washing.
Of course, there were a thousand
and one things to be done, besides
troutteau proper, out 1 shall not go
into particulars, only you mar be
sure she was the same sensible' Meg
through it all. She never sewed long
at a time, for she said she couldn't
afford to wear herself out if she
never had any clothes; so she was
always ready for a walk or drive
whenev er John came for her, where
at the good fellow marveled.
"Why," said he,"Fred Armstrong
told me he never went to see Kate
for weeks before they were married
without finding her either up to her
ears in work, or so tired she could
do nothing but yawn; and he said
he concluded that was a part of the
programme."
"Well, so it is," answered Meg;
"but you see, I've a progmmme of
my own."
''For which,"quoth John, "I trust
t am duly thankful!" .. r.
However, Meg stipulated at the
first tliat he should come only twice
a week for fear of exciting remark ;
but, somehow, he would keep fore
getting What day it was, aud then
insist that it was three days since his
last visit. For the same reason she
would not wear her engagement
ring, though it was just such a one
as she liked one large pearl, with
enameled setting.
We held a family caucus over the
weddingdress ; we were all in favor
of tbe conventional white ; but as
Meg hail decided to be married after
morning service on Sunday, we did
not see how it could be managed;
so, at last, it was reluctantly given
up,-and a delieate black and white
striped silk suit decided upon in
stead. "But I must have a veil,"
sighed Meg. "I know its foolish,
but I should not feci half married
without a veil.".
"Why not carry one to church in
vour pocket, aud let some one throw
it over you just before you leave the
pew?" 1 suggested.
"That's it, exactly! You're a jew
el, Aunt Sophie!" cried Meg, and
so that matter was sei tied. .
Besides this bridal drees, she
had a handsome black silk, a white
cambric, a buff traveling dress, and
oh, horrors!. two chintzes. tix
dresses for a bridal outfit ! vut she
had already a green silk ud white
pique, almost as goo'' &s new, and
sensible Meg decided she didn't see
why she shon- have more dresses
than she eeded just because she
was r to be married,
about this time she let it be un-
JS A 1 l .
uemoou sue was going to visit a
cousin ln Philadelphia, and no one
seemed to have the slightest suspi
cion for what she was really prepar
ing. ' But one day Miss sartha
Gaines was seen coining up the front
wslk. "I'm in forit now I" excla(m
ed Meg, shrugging her shoulders as
she went to the door. The weather
was duly discussed, and the last
piece of gossip retailed ; but it wes
plain our visitor 'bad "somewhat bu
hermmd."
convert. "
iniia-ij brought tne
tiressinaking,
m .w.
"-.Ulri; vr -: ,!.
'No,"? pvf.. 1 ' ; -r.
At tvi as fat'Tto- ir-
4 rofr.pv
Irlr, anjd
Meg. hef ficelftti:n'i nrt.
ttcjvyk her fare was pnrf rVjj .rt-1 ,
.Miss .Martha ttcaltatdd, enCruur .
pot satisfied yet, but almost afraid
toak th uueaUon -that was tnii-
Wingers her lips. Out it came at
last "You'vaColn to get married, r
u't your "7s.
"Oh, I hope lo eoTrftc, titrrr : dWt V
u, Miss Martha?" laughed lip;, )
- .- - . fcsw-. ' Ss.
I could - scarely help JoinTagt er. 4"
1 the offended lady drew herself ni.
and departed with hardly a word of '
farewell. Considering she wa tm
the shady side vf forty, and still iu
a "state of single blcssedncen,". tl.o -
Jjaestion srff almost an insult, aiol I
elt in duty bound to take mighty -
Meg to task, but she silenced run hr
declaring "she needn't come prying
Into my affairs, then , aud i u in ,re
she needn't. - '
After this, whatever peop! said. - .
we beard nothing of it, and ev
erything being in readme i', llrg
named the third fennday in- July for
her wedding. All this time she bad -not
made a confidant of any one
outside of the house, bclicvng
that "if you want a secret kept j ou
most keep it yonrself." Bin onj t-
urday she called on all therHafrf.
asking them to come on, the uror-
row ana see her marr.'.ed. ti.
course she bad to encounter a run
ning fire of comment on her oddity
and reproaches for having keen, it
so close; bat she boro it bravely, and
begged them to keep her Kxrct cne
day more, which they promised to
do. '
Coming home Just before tea-tuue, '
the first thing that met her gaze wa .
an elegant tea-fet, standing n Mm .
1 ' . . v . . . t ' .- . 1 1. . - .
laoie ia mq .uunK-ruvui, wutcu u
at cni.-s divined must be from her -mother,
and she was rushing off to
find this grtod mothor, when D:rk
met ber in tho doorway, and, hand
ing her a folded paper, aIJ, w ith a
resigned air; "Here, Mcr', 1 felt
obliged to give you something, too." "
Just glancing at the v-pcr, and
seeing -jXi in tho biggest kiud of fig
ures, she threw ber arms round hi '
nock and sobbed.
"Come now, don't take the stanh
all out of a fellow's collar ! I'd so.:
idoa you would take it." . ."
"JHn't you flatter yourself," said
Meg, rallying; "all I can get out of
you is clear gain." ...
I, being only her maiden aunt, and ,
a "poor relation" at that, ha. I only
traveling case to offer her, but thef
dear child was kind enough - to tsy
it was just the tiling she wanted. -. f
Wheu John left that nl-I.t a
handed her a box, which.' ou being
opened, proved to contain a beauti
ful watch and chain ; and Just as we
were going to bedcume nieasencr
bringing a pair of enameled brace
lets from ber Aunt Maria, and a set
of carved coral from Cncle John. So
Meg did not lack for presents, after
all. . .
Sunday morning rose bright aud
clear, and if the old proverb be true,
that "Happy Is tbe. bride the sun
hhiuci on, ' surely our.darliug is ties-,
tined fc r anappy life-' Tho rky was
unclouded, and the air delightfully
cool for a July day, Wo had our
breakfast and family prayers as usu
al. There was no hurrying to and
fro ef servants, pastry cooks, flor
ists, and all the little world that a
wedding usually sets revolving ; not
fluttering and chattering of brides
maids flying alwut with frizzing
irons ana hair pins, helping to di e
the bride and hinderli.g everyone
else thereby. Meg donned her pret,
ty silk, her white Lai trimmed with"
lavender velvet and white daisies,
and her delicate lavender gloves,
without help, save such as her moth
er lovingly offered, and then we lelt
her alone for a while.
When she Joined as, it was with
such a peaceful, "uplifted" expres
sion on her sweet, grave face, that it
wa evident she was not entering in
to matrimony lightly or unadvised-'
ly, but "reverently, discreetly, sd
viacdly, soberly, and in the. tear of
God," as the Prayer Book enjoins.
I couldu't resist taking her in my
arms (there were no lacos aud furbii
lows to muss, you knerw) and giving
her a good "hug," Le so entirely
answered to my ideal of what a bridi
ought to be.' Then hcrmother took
her and cried over her a Iittlo for
it was very hard to give np this only
daughter, whom she bad hoped to.
keep as the stay and comfort of her
old age and Dick went whistling
out of the room, a thing he was never
known to do of a Sunday before. ' .
We found John waiting for us in r
the church porch, aud Cousin Alioe,.',
who was the nearest approach to a
bridesmaid, and was to arrange the
veil at tbe proper time. These cat
veil at the proper time. These cat , v 1
In the pew with Meg and her moth. . I
er, while the rest of the relatives J
found seats as near as they could. ' .J
Dr. Burdick sent word as he esmc . ;
In, for the organist to play the 'Wed- ".
ding March' after the beiHsdJi'tion. -The
services progressed a' visual, "
aud at the close of the last hymn Dr.
Burdick requested the congregation '
to be seated again after the bencdic- .
tion. As be came down from the - -
Sulpit, the organ struck up the in- ' S'
ispcnsable "March," and wc began 1
to form into processiori. '
As I was the first to go up with ;
Cncle John, 1 had ample time to ol-
serve the effect of this "denoatiw,ai"i (
upon the congregation, and it was
perfectly eomical to see tb- bewil
dered way in which they turned to
each other with interrogation mark
ln their eyes. .
Next came Uncle Harry and A
31 aria, Uncle Albert and his wife.
Mr. aud Mrs. Milton, Chailey and .
Kate. Joe and Carrie, Fred and Al- ,
ice, Dick and his mother, and lastly,
John aud Meg, the dear child look- '
ing very sweet and "bride-y" under '
the shimmering folds of lace which
Alice had hastily tossed over her.
We ' grouped ourselves carelessly
about, end the good minister pre
nounced those ofurepatcd vet ever
fresh words which mnke of ''twain .
one flesh." Then we inarched out
again and proceeded directly home, '
the family .friends aeeoiapanvitig ti
and remaining a short time fW con-
gratulations and explanations.. As
they were all going away, Meg snid :
"Won't you stay to dinner 31 r.
Ware?" .
To which John replied, politely
eplied, politclv - tm
.Ware, I think I c,'
jwn for a - lung, ' 1 j
lotuent of which, f
"Thank you, Mrs.
will." '
So we settled do
auiet dav. every mom en
we begrudged as. it pa-tsed, lor
though John bad promised to l.iina
his wife back to u for a while,' wc
all felt she would never be quite the,
same.
Meg and her mother stole awsy
for an hour or two after tc v,aud
when they reappearcd, their red
eyes and flushed checks were tell
tale witnesses of what their "Situ
day talk" must have been. Then
we sang some of the old, ?:iiniliir
hymns, and Meg's wedding-day u
over. . - u , . ..
- - . . . -
' Fauacutalitr.
It may seem of little moment to.
be punctual; but to use ' the word
of an eminent theologian, "Our lite-'
is made up of litle things." Our at
tention to them is the index of our
character; often the scales by which ,
it is weighed. Punctuality requir
es no unduij exertion, and its in
fluence is a most salutary one: !'
cultivation seems tho more 11a..
tan t as wewitne the deleterious
influence of uilatoriness in habit,
the evil tfect of which none V.enr.
"Better late than never," transforiu
a into "Better never late," is an
excelent - maxim. Whether we
move in the higher walks of life, or
tread the quiet paths of humble pur
suits, punctuality amply repays u
for what little efforts we make in
its cultivation.
Teach me the art of patience
whilst I am well, and give me the
use when I am sick. In that dav,
either lighten my. burden j.
strengthen my back. Make me.
who so often in my health have dis
covered my weakness, presuming
ou my own strength t be strong in
sickness, when 1 solely rvlv on her
assistance. ...
The faith that does not throw
warmth a of turner around tL
gToypUhiesand'eharitiesofhearf, a-iv
drop invlgoration like shower upr
the conscience and the will, 1 :
t sloe a it is unsatisfying. J' . "
ter. . .;
H
i j
4 .
t
t
l to -fM -nnt
I ' 1
i!

xml | txt