Newspaper Page Text
.."LET US HAVE PEACE."
VOLUME V. ALEXANDRIA, LA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1873. NUMBER 28
....-- ~-- m
OLD BACHELOR JOHNS
BY BSAL POT*.
'TAIXN often that I speak on't, for there ain't
but few folks c
To hear me lett.. on about myself and my
I er was a talkr, and I'm most too old a bird
To be ara' of new tricks, but I take ye at
Thatye'd really like to hear me tell the story of
An. W'jy I'm gettin' old and grizzled. 'n' never
had no wife.
W .1--there ain't much story tolt, and I do n't
pretendl to be
No more 'v a hero, than what you'd 'a bin, if
you'd bin me.
Folks that's married sometimes has away of
lookin' with contempt
On them that's single, though perhaps they never
so much as dream't
That there might be good reasons for their livin'
as they do;
It seems to me ha'sh judgment-and kind'v on
They sometimes call me crabbed, and a "dried
up, cross old bach."
It kind'v grates ulon me, like a creakin', rusty
Fur it makes me think of younger, happier days
that I have seen;
'N if things had n't bin just as they was, what I
too might 'a bin.
It's nigh on five-and-thirty year, aince first I
ohmo out West,
I thought I'd strike out for myself, it seemed to
me the best;
My young heart was chock-full o' hope, and
there was one for whom
I could have cut my pathway through the thickest
Our family was large t' home and the old folks'
hands was full;
So me 'n' my youngest 'rother thought we'd
give their boata pull.
I mean bythat we felt that if we lightened up
Life wouldn't seem to them, perhaps, such a
dreadful up-hill road.
I neverhad much schoolin', as you'll know to
hear me talk,
I've kinder picked up what I know-perhaps
know '' cheese from chalk,"
Book-l'arnin' ain't my strong p'int, but of pio
I've seen as much as most folks has, that's goin'
The first time I come West, I come through York
State, by canal
The railroad wasn't runnin' yet, and tallygraphs
'I you'd told folks that in thirty years news'd be
sent on wire
Clean round the aurth they'd called ye one o' the
biggest kind o' liar.
'8 I said, we pioneered along-a good deal o' the
The country was a settlin' up even at that early
We stopped first In Ohio, then we looked at
But we thought that goin' further West would be
a better plan.
So we "entered" land at Gov'ment price, in
My brother's was aa' inin' mine-he's dead, 'n'
his oldest boy
Ismarried, carrieson the farm, 'n' lives up on
And I-1 carry mine on too-but I'm unmarried
'S I said before, I left behind me when I come
One whom I loved, God knows how much, and
she too, loved me Iwst.
It was agreed that I'd go back and take her for
'Na year or two, or's soon's I fairly got a start
I used to hear from Hetty pretty often. She could
A first-rate kind o' letter, better'n mine a mighty
Mine was always blotched and bungled, but for
all that, Hetty knew
Every word inside come from my heart, and that
to her was true.
It took a month or so for letters to reach us In
And when masls went by stage-coach it did seem
a dre'dful ways;
But it's tlme makes distance seem so long, even
in these days of steam;
And to them that's separated wide, it's about's
it used to seem.
Wal, I'd got some forty acres cleared-I built a
And got things fixed as comf'table's I could
where all was new
'N' I aslc'lated the next spring to go back to
And marry Hetty, 'n' bring her home: our
minds was made upon't.
That winter was a pretty hard one, all the coun
Bich sone, for heavy snows and thaws, I think I
Our mails was all behind-hand, for the roads
was powerful bad;
And a single line from Hetty was the only word
It was written weeks before, and in a shaky kind
As if she'd had a very heavy At o' sickness, and
All it said was, "John, dear, I'm not welld.
Could you come home ?"
When I real at I was's if a clap o' thunder'd
struck me dumb.
" ('ull I come?" I'd like to see the airthly
power could hold me back
it didn't take me very long my clothes and traps
I traveled night and day, as fast as stagin' would
And ten days was a quicker trip than two or
three is now.
And at the end of ten long days, I reached my
native tow n,
One bright spring afternoon, just as the sun was
I hurried past folks that I knew, and them that
knew me well,
When all to once't i heerd the tollof the solemn
'N' I knew that somebody wasdead-what? No !I
it oouldn't be
My Hetty ! that was just her age, the bell struck
I harried laster, a Imost run, tll I reached the old
'N' then I knew, without beia' told, that I'd
come home too late !
'N' then there come a blacklless, and I can't re
But they say fordays ad weeks I lay, just ho
verin at death's door,
Till fially, by tod's help, and by nursin' of the
I got upl on my feet again, and started back out 1
And now ye've heered mystory, 'n' why I never
had no wife,
DIo you wonder any longer that I live this kind o'
DIo ye wonder that my love went out like a can
die in the wind
When Hetty lied? 'n' In livl' so d' ye think
I've sinned ?
Perhaps 't may be so-wal-may God forgive me
if I have.
But my heart for thirty years has laid with Hetty
in her grave.
And I carry on my farm alone, and I'm waitln'
for the day
When the good Lord will call me, 'n' I'll be
ready to obey.
EARNING AND SPENDING;
Or, A.at Teamsnt's Weddlag-Present.
BY RETR CESTEU13FILD.
" So little Katv is going to be married ?'"
eaiai Mrs. Teu;nut, folding the letter she :
iatl t'In Ireadiag and layin it on the ta
blh with her spctatles. " ell, I'll go to
the weddig, and I won't go empty-hand
edleither. tt was very pretty of her to re- I
nmember her old aunt. Katv wa- always a
favorite of mine; I hope she's going to
get a good husband."
The wedding was not to takei phlau for
several weeks, and the inlterveningl Lpace.
was spent by Mrs. Tennant il preplaring
gifts sullitablh for tilhe occaion. They ws'ere.
finished at last, anlld i.cely packel ill a
pasteboard box. Six ironinlg-hollt ers, a
pair of calico apron, long and wide, a di-h
'loth lnetted of tidlv-otton, a cabb:age-nt
and a pair of blue woolen stxckings for
the hbrdegroon; all the work of her own
hands. She then ordered the boy .Je.n
nings to put the old white lmare to the
buggy and drive her over to Barn-table.
It was only twenty miles across country.
and twice as far by rail; besides she like.d
to see the prospect when she traveled, and
take things easy. so she said.
In due time, therefore, the ancient huggy
stopped in front of Mr. Winn's house, and
Mrs. Tennant alighted therefrom with htier
arms full of huckleberrv branIches covered
with ripe fruit, which sh'w hI:ul gathered by
the way, a pirivilege she could not have
had In a railroad car, you perteive. 'T'hen
a bald-headed gentlelman came out to nmeet
her, whoml she alddressed as "' Brothler
Richard." anl condhitetl her to thil door.
where she was immediately taken posses
sion of bh the ladies of the household. anld
borne away to some tar-off upper region.
" o you are going t Ibe manrrited. Katy ?
said Mrs. elnnant, realpearinlg a: hour or
two afterwanr with the pasteboard box
in her hand. " It do'tsn't seemi possible.
but then time flies. Herere are a few little
notions I brought you that I thought
would come handy to set ulp housclkeepiig
0"O, thank you, aunty ' said Katy,.
opemiingo tlhe. box and darting a reproviing
glance at Minnie anid Hattie, her younger
sisters, who had begun giggling as soon
as they saw the colitents. "" It was very
kind of you to take so much trouble fior
Bnt shrewd Mrs. 'l'ennant saw that
something was amiss, notwithitan:ding tihe
courtesy of Kate's words. although she
could not make out what it was until lshe
was shown to the room where the wtI
ding-presents were exhibit'ed. There were
tables covered with silver anlld porcelain.
with jewels and necklaces. Of half thear
ticleh shel did not even know tlhe ii'. hie
only saw that everything was very hand
s-olme and musit have twen very exs'en.live.
"Well, this wbeats all !" said she, looking
around her in bewildered amtazemellet. '"I
never saw so many title things togethelr.
except inl ajeweler's shop. No wonder tlhe
children laughed at Ilmy present." laughing
"It will remind us of the giver, anti that's
the best part of any present," said Katy.
"Yes, and it will remind you too, that
lie hla.s duties as weIll as pleasures : we
never must fotrget that. you know. IBut
what is this?" poinlting to three'i c'hair,
over which hung :a mn:Lss of white illusion.
which looked as if a sumnler breeze' imight
watt it upward amlnog its sister clotl(d.
"'That is Imy wedding-dress." said Katy.
"''mn ; it doesn't look very durable: I'in
afraid it won't wash."''
"I'm afraid not," saidl Katy. with a
merry little laugh "" hut. one IHiIsn't ex
pc.t one's wedding-d.re:s to It ru-ti tl."
"I donl't know about that," sa:idl Mrs.
'1'eiuant. "'Mly weddling-dress was a: puae
colored silk. I wore it for iniy I'st '.ieven
years. am"I than tiurned it andl wore it sevien
years molre. Aft'r that I mal:ud it intio a
mantle which I wore to inelrtingt iurvear,.
and then malde it into ani apron. Afteir it
hi:ul dot:le good service las all alron. I gave
it to the vyumg folks that were gettingl uli
a charity fir. anlld the needle-wooks Land
pinicushions they made of it sold fior Iive,
dollars and seventy-five cents. So there's
onle weddingl-dress that was uiseful. But
you've got a silk dress I suppose?" askedul
Mrs. Tcnnant, with a secret intention of'
preenting her one if she had not.
"). yes. several." said Katy. "H'lsow do
yvo like that ?" throwing acroiss the lied a
heavy black silk. with trimmings imtpossi
bie to descrilW'.
"It's a splendid piece,," salil Mrs. Ten
nant, taking it between her thumib and
tinger. "and( there's a good deal of it. It
cost something I guess?"
"Only a hundre~ and twenty-live dollars
all nade," said Katy. '" You see we had
a dressnmaker come to the lhoise. which
was a great piece of economy. I quite
pride myself on it. If I had had my
thillgs made in Boston, at a fashionable
place, they wouul have cost ever so mnucih
" Well, a black silk is always handy, and
I approve of getting a good thing when
Von buy: so I don't know as I should call
it extravagant. And what is this?"
" That's my Nile green-that was more
expensive; and here is a: silver-graly pop
lin, but this lwarl.olored silk is iny favor
ite. The lace on it is just lovely !"'
"' But where are your common gowns?
You nmust have somethingto put on morn
"Yes. I have some lovely neqliges.
This white cashmere trimmed with flteece
Ithink is the prettiest."
" Yes, it is prettvy. certainly, hilbut it isn't
nust the thing for kitchen-work, is it?"
"I don't expect to stay in the kitchen."
taid Katy, much amused; "'of course we
shall keep servants."
" That alters the case. We began lift'
diifferently, John and I. We were poor
and couldn't afford to keep help, bfMt we
were happy, notwithstanding;" andti Mrs.
'ennant sighed, as we are all apt to do at
the remnembrance of past happiness.
' So I should be happy with Charley,
living just as you did," said Katy. " Ie's
the dearest fellow in the world. I wouldn't
yive him up for any amount of pretty
things; but then if I can have him and the
pretty things too, why so mnuch the bet
"Very true," said Aunt Tennant.
That evening arrived the bridegroom: a
handsome young gentleman got up in the
best stvle of the Broadway tailor. Proba
blyv he'had never seen a pair of blue yarn
toclkings before, any more than he had
meen such a woman as Mrs. Tennant; hbut
s he looked into her good, sensible face.
ie saw something that went straight to his
heart, in spite of conventionalities, and tw
tcretly pronounced her decidedly the
"jolliest" of his new relatives, while she,
•n hier part, was heard to declare that slit
" took a liking to him the first thing."
The next day the wedding camne off. and
rhe voung couple, with many kind wiskhs
ndi several large trunks, started for Sara
toga. there to pass their honeymoon.
'" Detar children !" said Mrs. Tennant.
as she turned away from the door, when
the carriage had rolled out of sight. "It's
: all sunshine to them now; I Ihope tlhey
Swill not be disappointed."
" lWhy should they be?" asked Mrs.
" gA ood lmany are," said Mrs. Tenn:uit.
"I upposelll ( 'leeerlev ik very rich?"
" By Io means. I wish he was. What
I llllade youl think so?"
"" %'ell, Kalty se'emed to have a good
Illnyiv nlice things, anld thenll, too. slhe spoket
aboullt lhaving servanlts to do her work."
"0, of course tlhey must live as other
people do. Then although ('harley is only
•a fifteen-hundlred-doltr clerk, he is highly
connected, and will intretluce KltyV to the
test society in New York; and she won't
wanit hlim to be as.ihanmel of her."
" Fiftcen hundred dollars isn't a forltune.
to be sure, butll then it will do very well for
a youngll pair just startilng in life. It's
three' time's asC lllch :a .Jolhn and I had to
begin with, andi we always livedl comforta
lly. I hole tlheyV will be' able to !ay up a
littie soneithing eve'ry year.''
" If theyv iallnaage to live' on it, I think
theyv'll d<Io ve'ry well." said Mrs. Winn.
Itlnlini". "" ol cian't ('expect the(.m to do
in New ~ork just as you and .John did up
there, in the woods. However. Charley
will is' pronmoted by-alnd-bvy, and besides,
tllhere''i a riclh Iuncle ll.who nii'y be olbliging
enoicugih to die olnel of thlse days and leave
" For my part. I think folks ought to
live within their Ifmeaniis wherever tiley' are.
and if their neiglhbtors h:aven't seie' enoughi
to appllreciate it, their opinion isn't worth
inuch. As to the rich lincle, it's a pity
('harley's got that idea into Ilis head ; it's
ill waiting for dead men's shoes.' " said
Itere the conversation dropped. But
that night when shle went to her room, she
took fromIll her porte"-monnrie a checek for
several hundred doltlars which she ulad in
tenide'd to give' KaItyi to " set ulp Ilol ilukeep
inr,= with." Slhei looked at it i nmomtent.
then putting it between the leaves of her
bank-book. she said
'"1'11 kee'p it for the present. Poor
thing' Th'ey'll see' tile time' when they'll
lnee'ld it Iore tthln thtan theyv di o lnow, or
liVmy narnle isn't D)esire' T'ennant."
If' their letters irlight is' trstedl, the'
ne'wly-mllarried'e pair we're' now hlappier tha:u
any two personui had ever heern since the
world began. They had found each other
le'rti''tioi. Katy's dres'es fitted hleauti
fully, her jewelry was rmuch admiired, and
there' wa;lS elsomethinilg entertainning goinlg
onl every hOllr of the (ai'y. Wasn't that
enclougli to mIlake alnybody happy?
A few weeks later they had left Sarato
gi, the' gcia sea:soLi being over, and conl
nneedl ihouikeeping in New York.
tHere, al-o. fortune slleeneil to falvor themn,
Itr, as Katy wrote to her mother, they
had '" secu'lredl a cook whlo wasiL a treasulre.
:a nieo little' girl toe wait onll the table aend
tend the door. and e".verythiing went oil like I
''Thene folliowed a winter of lalls, parties
aind thel"te'r-goinig. and alnotlher seasLon Iat
Sarc.atoga. afte'r which Kitty's letters grew I
shorte'r anlld less freqluent.
'T'lrret'e years pat.se,l and Mrs. T'ennant
Itarld l nothiilng from her nlete('( e'xc*e'ptilng
the' errt raneoelne'lllenet ev some of Ihel
W\inn fainil.'. "-A letter f'roll Katy ; all
well;"'' and shle was bgi'nning to think
lhere rea'illy was some pjatenlt way of livinge
like a rillioiair'e onll lift'e'e hiuirlr'd Ier
Iannuim, when . lshe w.'as one da.y sullrprisedl
to rc'eive a letter ill Katy's own hand- I
The'l first tlhret pages were devtcal chlief
Iv to apologies< Ihr her long silence. and a
Jisctisition onll the lrite-. of teething as
illustrated in iher baby. buit the fourthi page
wacs es follows :
" ''As I was rummaging over a closet the other
lay, what should I come across but the box you
brought Its when we were marriedl, with all the
thing in it Jnot as yon placed them. I declare I
eaoildn't help crying, it brought everything back
so Iresh to my mind. 0. how happy we all were
then! Not that I am unhappy now-I wouldn't
nave you think so on any account-but sometimes
it seems to mne that notlllng woul lIe so pheasant
as to lie down In that quiet old larnstable grave
yard with my taby by my side.
'' I don't know how it is, but seeing that box
made me think of you, and having thought of
you, I can think of nothlng else; so now I am
going to ask a great favor. I want you to come
and see us. Father is feeble, and mother cannot I
leave him, and besides she isn't Just the person
one needs when one is in trouble; you under
stand Not that there is any serious trounle
either; but I cannot explain how it is. Come I
an l see for yourself, I beg of you.
" I'. S -i am sure there is something wrong
with Charley, but It only makes him angry to
ask him what It is. He will tell you If any one:
there is no one he respects so highly."
Mrs. 'Tennant was not the woman to re- i
sist such an appeal as this, and in the 1
ehortest possible time waLs at her nitce's
housec'. A siulehel glahnce showed her that
('harley had e('liallge indewl. lie was not I
only ipaler and thinner. bullt there were I
linese of care' which it was plitiftl to see' ol I
Sfa(e so youngill; and the tireed geyetyt' of
his covlier'stion wasL sauldehr than the de- f
jectioen .whie'h se'tthl teblrn rlluon him 'llien
he' bel.levedi himself UIllohsrvedt . \As to
Ki:t', she wa"I but the ghlost of Iier fornlter r
neif. her lhou.ehold afleirs exhlibited eve'r.
plhac.~ of Ielad llalagenlent. " l'The t nas- I
rlre of a cook" had left long eeo. taking
the spoons with her, anId the Ili'e' little girl
li:cI focllowed soon after with the spoon
hohcler. " A poor exile of Erin"--ve'r 1
poofr irlce''l--now reigmrn'l i th tir steld,
,uled so delepotie wes her reignl thlat nobody
in the ho0e elarecl assert his rights but the
hacby, air i lee' asssertel his, day and niight,
mIost strenlulolly. Eaeuh and all of thwse I
persons fblt thee infiuent'c of Mrs. 'l'Ten- I
nant's Iprsnce, though it would have been I
dificult to say how, for it manifested itse'ilf
silhently. as thile dew falls ulpol the parche'd,
Weeks passed, and she had madle no e'f
fort to win Charley's confidence as to tilhe
burlen which was weighing hIim cldown-
at lezast, not by questions--but at last al
opportunity presented itself. She had gone I
to his closet for some article that needed re
pairing, and while there she heard him
come rapidly lp thle stairs. lic enteredl
the rocom, shut thie door, anid, to her ser
rise, locked it. Then openineg a drawer. I
e took from it a small pistol. examined 1
the lock:; then, with a mutteredl exclama- I
tion, replaced it, and flung himnself into a I
chlair. It was all done In a molnent, but
Mrs. Tennant knew that in that monlent
his good and had angel had strive'n with I
hiin, a:rd that thegood" had prevailed. She
"tep'pdl forwardl Lghtly, andil lail her haznd
on hii shoulder.
" VWell, ('harley, what is it r' she saill.
" You here, aunty !" he excl:ainled. rairi
inrg hiris head, whldch was resting on the ta
ble above his folded armns.
"Yes, I crune of an errand, and you
locked me in : so now I don't mean to go
il I get revly," said she, cheerfully. a
" You're in trouble, I've known that for
some time, and I rather think I know the
" Is it out, then ? Who has told you ?"
N" o one has told me, but I can guess:
it is debt."
" And worse," groaned Charley.
"Well. tell me the whole; you've kept
it to yourself too long already."
"It's disgrace," said C'harley, bitterly.
I dlon't Iwlieve it: however, I eln
jutdge better when I have heard the circunl
4tances," said Mrs. Tennant, sitting down
And then hei told her the story, which
is, alas. too conmmon to need repeating : of
living above his income till debt had acumn
ulated beyond his ability to pay, of appro
priating his employer's money under stud
den temptation, with the intention of nl
storing it again when he should receive the
iromotion which he had longt been prom
ised. But, quite unaccountably. the pro
motion had been given to another; and to
make matters still more hopeless, the rich
uncle who had always given him occasion
al aid, and a part of whose property lhe one
d:ay hoped to inherit, had recently married
and gone to Europe with his bride. Ile had
other rich relatives, to whom he had ap
plied for help. but they all lived fully up
to their incones, and could do nothing for
"'And so it was only a choice between
that"-pointing to the pistol--"and flight,"
said Charley. inl conclusion.
" Foolish boy, as if either woul(l help
the matter !" exclaimed Mrs. Tennant.
' No, there is but one sdraightforward
course ollen to you. and tlhat is to go to
your emplover. Mr. Macomber. and tell
him just what you've tol nime."
`" And he put in prison for mly paius,"
"" Which would be no more disgracetllan
to tb running around the world to esca.pe
juntice. As to the pistol, keep that to
·hoot crows with; it won't help your af
fairs any. But I was going on to say, I'll
Ie responsible to Mr. Macomber for what
you've spent. Can't allow me to make
such a seacriflee, do you say? It's no sac,
ritie at all. I've got money enough. and
I'm hlad of it, now, if I never was before."
" iýou are so kind. I can never thank
you enough," said C(harley; " and as to
telling Mr. M:teoinlmer, I believe it will be
ea:ier .to confess than to bear what I've
borne the last six weeks."
" Of course it will, and I don't believe
he will be hard on you either; but if he is.
even if he sends you to prison, rememnber
it is the sin that disgraces a man, and not
" If the worst comes to the worst, you'll
be kind to poor Katy ?" saidl Charley.
' Set your heart at rest on that point,"
said Mrs. Tenlant.
Diimlcult as was the task Charley had un
dertake'n. lie was eager to have it over, and
did not wait for Inorning and business
hours to seek an interview with his enm
plover. but went to his house that same
evening. He was shown into the library.
whire Ihe fountld himself flue' to face with
Mr. Macomber. Standing before him, hat
in hintl, he said
" I've come to see you on business, sir,
very painfill business."
' (;o on," said Mr. Macomber.
`" You have trusted me, and I have be
travced your confidence."
'1 Please to state in what way ;" and
(harley repealted the sad story of his temp
tation and tall.
Mr. Macomber listened to the end, andl
then rentarked quietly, "'' I knew it all he
' You knlew it !"
•" Yes, and that was why you loot your
" One thing more." said Charley. "I
am glad to say you will lose nothing by
mmie; a kind friend will sec to that. Bit
that is no reason why I should escse
punishmentt; you have a right to enforce
" Of course I have."
" I await your pleasure."
"Well, mny pleasure is to keep you in
your present position, that is, if you will
acepet it; the pronlotion, as you know. is
not in my power to give. fy comhlg to
me openly, you have shown that you are
still hontest at heart, and I think, therefore,
I may safely trust you again."
('Charley left the merchant's presence
feeling that a new world h:ul opened to
hliml, as indeed it had. He had now but
"one misgiving, and that was concerning
Katy, for of course she must know all that
had happened; there should be no more
concealmnents. And how would she bear
it? Would she cease to love him, to respect
hin ? How would she accommodate her
self to their straitened circumstances?
Revolving these thoughts, he opened
the door of his house, and was met by
Katy herself, who, throwing her arms
round his neck, exclaimed-
0"t Charley, what did he say? If he
sends you to prison, I will go too !"
"' Tlen Aulnt T'ennant has told you T'
"Yes, I thought you had had confes
dions enough for one night," said Mrs.
T'ennant; "but you haven't answered
Katv's question, ' What did he say ?"
'hle tforgave me everything; and all be
causel I followed your advice.'
" , I'n so happy, so lhappy !" said Katy,
etwvteen laughing and crying.
" But we cun't live as we have done; it
will be a great change for you, Katy."
"Yes,. now I shall learn the luse of
atnntv's aprons and holders; if I'd known
the Iuse of them when we were married, it
might have saved us all this trouble," said
Katy.- Yout h's Companion.
Washington as a Dliscarded Salter.
Fitzhugh Lee sends to the Alexandria
Gazetle the following letter trom George
Washingtonl writtei over 120 years ago.
and addressed to " Winm. Fauntlerov. sr.,
in Richmond," the brother of " Mis Bet
sv." retferred to:
MAY '20. 1T;2. SiR: I should have been
dlown long before this, but my business in
Frlederick detaitned me somewhat longer
than 1 expectd, aind immedllatelv upon my
retunl from thence I was taken with a vio
lent pleurisy, which has reduced me very
low: •but purpose as soon as I recover my
stretngthl, to wait on Miss Betsy, in hopes
of a revocation of the former cruel sen
tence, alld see if I can meet with ally alter
ation in my favor. I have incloseda let
ter to her, which should be much obliged
to you for the delivery of it. I have noth
ing to add but my best respetA to your
good lady and family, and that I am, sir,
yolur most obedient humnble servant,
G. W ASHIGcTO.
A Mimt man gotmadbecaause hbhadn't
a clean shirt, and he sold two cows and
purchased 132 shirts ready-radle.
0 ye fithers and mothers who have sons
ind daughters growing up around you, do
you ever think of your responsibility in
this regard-your restmsibility for keep
ingalive the home sentiment in the hearts
of your children? Within the limits of
your means, remember that the obliga
tion rests on you to make their home the
pleasantest place upon this earth; to make
the word "home" for them the synonym
Gar "happiness." I would not have you
import the vices of the outside worldl Into
tour homes for any purpose; but I would
have vou go to the utmost verge of what is
enoral to prr.vide at home those things
which entice young and growing persons
away from home. Let me assure you that
,ou had better spend your money in doing
this than in ostentation and luxury, and
far, far better spend itthus, than to amass
a fortune for your children to spend in the
future. AnI. not only as regards amuse
mnents. but also comfort and refinement
for children have a keen appreciation of
these things--this is much the best policy.
)on't send your boy to school in ill-fitting
garments. collar all awry and chafing his
neck, buttons missing, and shoes down at
the heel. Don't make a warehouse or
clothes-press of his bed-room. Don't feed
him on sour bread, and tough meat, and
burnt coffee. D)on't let noise and dissen
sion and misrule spo 1 the hours he spends
at home. Don't do any of these things if
you can possibly avoid it. especially don't
do them for the purpose of laying up
money for his fiture use. The richest
legacy you can leave him is a life-long, in
extinguishable and fragrant recollection of
his home, when time and death have for
ever dissolved the enchantment. Give him
that, and he will, in the strength of it,
make his own way in the world ; but let
his recollections of home be repulsive, and
the fortune you may leave hint will be a
poor compensation for the loss of that ten
derness of heart and purity of life which
not only a pleasanthome, but the memory
of one, would have secured. Remember
this, too, that while he will never feel
grateful for your money when once you
are under ground, he will go to your green
grave and bless your very ashes for that
sanctuary of quiet, comfort and refinement
into which you may, if you possess the
means, transform your home.
Commencement of Great Works.
Especially Interesting are the spots
where great designs are commeni'd or fin
ished. We recollect how Gibbon designed
his great work amid the ruins of the
Coliseum, and how he took his moonlight
walk when he had finished, In his garden
at Lausanne. I tried hard, at the Hotel
Gibbon, to realize that famous scene, but
an hotel does not easily recall a library.
Poor Gibbon! I think of his melancholy
sentence : "Two causes, the failure of hope
and the abbreviation of tears, always tinge
with a browner shade the evening of life."
It is not always, however, that picturesque
scenes are attached to famous moments. I
know of two great modern poets who were
once taking a walk amid splendid scenery.
As they gained the top of a hill, below
which an Interminable prospect stretched
out, one of them exclaimed: "It was
here, my friend, that the idea of my first
great poem occurred to my mind ! Where
were you when the thought of 1our epic
was first suggested to you ?" "I was tl
der a lamp-post waiting for my sweet
heart," was the somewhat prosaic reply. I
imagine that many a great literary design
has been developed among the lamp-posts
in the London streets. The library of the
British Museum is fertile in many memo
ries. Maeaulay had a room there to study.
lie came up one day in very land weather,
being a broachial subject, and met an as
tonished friend, who packed him back in a
cab. lie said that he had not come from
Holly House in his carriage, to spare the
coachmen and horses-a lamentable in
stance of the great tyranny in which men
are held by coachmen and horses. But
London is truly haunted London for those
who know the Shadows.-London Society.
A Captive Owl Fed by Its Nate.
Mr. Abraham Orator, of Fatland Farm,
Lower Providence Township, Montgom
ery county, Ala., relates the following ia
About a year ago his sons caught a large
gray owl in the woods, and taking It home,
confined it in a cage and placed it upon
the porch. At night thisbird commenced
to warble the notes peculiar to its species.
Mr. Grator was surprised to see his porch
scattered with feathers, and a rabbit's head
lying on it. This occurred morning after
aiorning, when Mr. Grator came to the
conclusion that something was feeding the
awl, which he set about finding out. Con
eequently he put the owl in a recess under
the bake-oven, and fixing a door upon the
rap, went to sleep. In the morning the
trap had been sprung, the door was down,
mnd an additional owl was found impris
naed. It was very evident that this was
the nmte to No. I, as no other rabbit
beads or feathers were found after the se
und owl was captured.
Wour n who are affiicted with drunken
Iusbands may bless the days that witness
si their weddings, as there is a mine of
wealth in their possession if they will re
move to lowa, where a man pays ten
Bents for a drink, and his wife collects
3,000 d:mlages from the man who somid it
to him. 'l'lds is 1.000 per cent.better than
life insurance, and the wift keeps her hus
tand, and the husband keeps the liquor.
St. Louis Demorrat.
A RECENT post-oflce decisionl is that fIf a
postmaster knows that a letter addressed
to his officelees intended for a person living
within the felivery of another office, it is
his duty to forward such letter (if it has
been properly prepaid) without waiting for
. request t, do so, arul without additional
Lharge of postage.
A sZWx51wAT strange coinddence recent
ly occurred in a St. Louis court. The
prisoner at the bar, the lawyer who was
addressing the court indefence,the report
er who was taking notes of the trial, and
one of the spectators, were all class-mates
in the same institution of learning about
seven years ago.
Scoaasnv and other Arctie voyagers sad
whale-lhunters have observed that whales
have some means of eommunicating with
ne another at great distances. It is prob
aMe that the annals bellow In a tone too
trave for the human ear, but quite within
the range of the cetacean ear.
PUNGENT PARA(GRAI HS.
I)AmIYMJA's MoTo--" One good churn
CARPENTEgL and frontiersmen depend
ni the planes for a livelihood.
DARW:ian-Ilf the races of men are de
leenlded from monkeys, from what have
Ir the D)arwinian theory s correet,would
a dry-goods clerk trace his origin from the
hap-er or the measuring worm Y
War should all the felonious folks be
called malefactors, just as if there were no
female factors that help to make up tie
sumn total ?
A MAN from Placervllle, Cal., when asked
by a Saratoga walter what he would have
for breakfast, replied: "Well, I rat her
guess I'll just flop my lip over a chicken."
IT is singular what a little thing will put
a man out. A Jersey City lawyer was
making a high-flown speech the other day.
telling about angel's tears, when his honor
said: .-Contine yourself to the dog-tight
ing case." The lawyer sat down.
THE polite clerks at a watch and Jewelry
establiihment were somewhat startled ute
other day by an individual's Inquiring if he
" couldn't have his entrails engraved" on
his wlch-ease. After a little inward
laughter. it was suggested that the appli
cant's initials might be put on in n3ono
'"TATOs!" cried a darkey peddler hr
Richmond Va. " Hush dat racket; you
distracts the whole neigborhood," came
from a colored woman In the door-way.
"You kin hear me, kin you?" " Hear
you! I can hear you a mile." "'Tank
)Ieaben for dat-I'se hollowin' to be heard.
WILls deprecatlngany exercise of will
f1l maliciousness, says an exchange, we
cannot help calling attention to the fact
that an old-fashioned penny, large size, pro
pelled from a second-story window, is able
to demolish the strongest glass-fi'smed cer
tificate of the Itinerant organ-gr~iier. It
is a charitable and inexpenseve e.peri
THiE man who answered an advertise
ment to the following effect says his curi
osity is satisfied: " If you wouhl learn
how to make home happy, send a poitage
stamp and twenty-five cents to P. O. Box
No. -, Cincinnatl." He did send the
necessary cash, and soon received the an
swer: " If you are as big a fool as we
think you must be for giving us your
money, you can make home happy by
leaving it and going West by yourseff."
HeartA and Home.
Hasband and Wife.
Things a married man caanpt help
Trhat all the girls used to be in love with
That all the widows are now.
'lThat If he were a widlower he could mar
ry again whenever he chose.
That he wouldn't introduce any fellow
he knows to his sister or his daughter.
That his wife Is a little jealous.
That she used to be a pretty girl.
'lhat his nmothercould make good bread ;
that his wife cannot.
That he wouldn't trust most women.
That if he should ever speculate he would
make his fortune.
That lie would enjoy country life.
That his girls will never be so silly as to
That his mother-in-law may be a fine old
lad'y, but -
'1 hat smoking never hurt a man yet.
That with a little management the ser
vants would always do well, and never
That his shirt-buttons are grossly neg
That hie is going to make his fortune
That he despises old bachelors.
Things a wife cannot help thinking:
That she was very pretty at sixteen.
That she had, or would have had, a great
many good offers.
That all her lady friends are five years
older than they say they are.
That she has a very fine mind.
That If her husband had acted on her ad
vice, he would be a rich man today.
That people think too much of the looks
af that Miss--, who would not be
dolled handsome if she didn't make her
That her mother-in-law is a very trying
That her sister-in-law takes airs, and
ought to be put down.
That her girls are prettier than Mrs. A's
That she would like to know where her
husband spends his evenings when he stays
That her eldest son takes after him.
That he is going to throw blmself away
ThMat s set her cap for him.
and did all the courting.
That her servants are the worst ever
That she has taste in dress.
That she has a good temper.
That she pities old maids.
Haste and Health.
It Is not at all wholesometo be in a bar
ry. Locomotive have been reported to
have moved a mile in a minute for short
distances. But locomotives have often
come to grief by such great rapkidty.
Multitudes in their haste to get rich are
ruined every year. The men who do
thiugs maturely, slowly, deliberately, are
the men who oftenest succeed In life.
People who are habitually in a hurry ,n
erally have things to do twice over. rhe
tortoise heats the hare at last. Slow
men seldom knock their heads against a
post. Foot races are lujurious to health,
as are all forms of tsompetitive exercise;
steady labor in the field is the best gymna
stam in theworld. Either labor or exer
cilse, carried to exhaustion or prostration,
or even great tiredness, expressed by
"fagged out," always does more harm
than the previous exercise has done good.
All running up-stairs, to catch up: with a
vehicle or ferry-boat, are extremely In
jurious to every ag aand sex and condition
of life. It ought ~to bhe the most pressing
necessity wlhich shoukld inde a person
over flfty to run atwentyyards. Thoselive
longest who are deliberate, whose actions
are measured, who never embark in any
enterprise without -'sleeping over it," and
who perform all the every-day acts of life
with calmness. Quakers are promverbally
calm, quiet people, and Quakerls are a
thrifty folk the world over.