Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

I •"«—ryg r »-' ■ ' _ *" i- X * »*' - <* it'* --iVW*- 3;’ mrskiZrsT' V t | I R 41 i S ^*.‘ U li. ii X 1 II U :i; ^ / V' !? ) \\ \ If *1 !/ •(Jb ik »«J«V J5- TRl-AVElSr, ^edition. SWKKTBKIAK. A branch of Sweotbriar—Ah, my heart! The tender tears unhidden start To weary, world-worn eyes; I kiss the faded, fragrant spray, And memories of a bygone day, Before my vision rise. tdoetdaJi} The sweetoriaf green ! Sbe loved it more Than many-tinted bloom; It often graced her maiden breast. Now, planted where she lies at rest, It beautifies her tomb. My little love in days of old! Youth’s morning hour of rose and gold * Comes back to me to-night; I see her in her girHsk grace, The sunny sw-^taess of her face, .Her child'jh robe of white. I smell the sweebriar in her hand, I see the garden where we stand On England’s southern shore; I hear the rippling streamlet fall, I hear her laughlmr musical, Now silenced evermore. She was too frail for earth’s employ, Too calm and pure for human joy. But like the sweetbriar green, The memory of her gentle life Makes sweet the years of worldly'strife That He our lives between. 11? U. WINNSBORO. S. U. MAY 1, 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 LOVE AND FORTUNE. A blustering uncomfortable day in early November. In Miss Miner’s sitting-room how ever everything was as cosy and delight ful as could be desired. ■ And Miss Hetty Miner, sitting be fore the fire, her black silk skirt turned carefully back over her lap, and her substantially made boots resting com fortably on the fender. * x An elderly w’oman—forty odd—with a sharp shrewd face, and bright little eyes, and a resolute look around her mouth. A homely, outspoken woman, who was proud to say she had never been in love, who lived in luxury, although on a small scale, and who had a hundred thousand in government bonds to leave to her relations when she died;and in all the world she had but two relations, Mrs. Carisford Carl her married sister, and Mr. Dollingby Parker, her half-broth er, who was jealous that old Si mon Carmen had left Hetty his fortune, just because she had happened to be friend him in his poor ante-mining days. This especial afternoon, as she sat meditatively before the fire, she sudden ly Lroke the stilness with an energy of speech that made the young girl, read ing in tins bny window nearly concealed by the curtains look startediy up £iom her book. ‘Ellice, you’re a fooll’ * Evidently Ellice Dunning had not lived five years as companion and per sonal attendant to Miss Miner in vain, for she manifested no surprise at the rough speech, beyond the swift, brief, look in her soft winey- book and came out little flush on her little startled brown eyes. She closed into the room face. ‘Do you think so, Miss Miner?’ ‘Most certainly I think so, or I shouldn’t have said so. ‘You are a fooi, Ellice Dunning, and I hate to see you throw yourself away so foolishly. ‘Do show your common sense if you’ve got any, and let that young jackanapes of a doctor go. ‘You’re better off without him. ‘I’ll give you a new seal-skin cloak this winter if you’ll give him up. ‘I couldn’t give him up, Miss Miner, I love him too well.’ ‘What nonsense I ‘You love him too well! ‘Love indeed. ‘It’s all absurdity. I never was in love in all my life.’ Ellice dropped her eyes in a pretty, little confused way. T can’t help that, Miss Miner. T love Frank, and he loves me. ‘We’d be perfectly miserable if we were parted. Miss Miner dropped her feet from the polished silver bar to the hearth with a resonant bang as she jumped up indig nantly. ‘Engaged to be married to Doctor Olevinl ‘Did I ever! ‘Well, Elice Dunning—very well. ‘You may pack my -hand-valise at once. T am going to London on a visit, by the six-ten train, and I’ll be home on Thursday. ' ‘When I come back, don’t let me find you here, you ungrateful little wretch— you!” Ellice’s lips quivered, and her eyes filled with diamond-bright tears. ‘Miss Miner! You don’t mean to turn me away?’ ‘That is just what I mean! T have told you, time and again, I didn’t approve of men and love-making, and I won’t have it where I api! ■You can take your choice—me or Doctor pleyin, ‘I’ll give you just five minutes.’ A little red flush crept into the girl’s cheek. T don’t want five minutes for a choice, Miss Miner! ‘You have been very good to me, and I cannot forget your kindness; and I think I have done my duty by you, ‘Put nothing could come between me and Doctor Olevic,’ * ‘All right, then. ‘Don’t let me see yon nere come back.’ And then Ellies went up to Miss Miner’s room, and pacl-ed the red Bus- * i - ’ \ folded'tStin^ require ‘I’ll go t Miner d g^-- * -'jaKsford Carl, Miss , _ ® Alfeiy as sh# sat in the city Cftoflirfexpress, in the early dusk of the November evening. ‘Camelia thinks all the world of me, I know. ‘Her daughter would not act as that ungrateful young minx dared act. ‘The idea of preferring a penniless young doctor with a moustache-a nasty black moustache—to me. ‘After all I’ve done for her, too!’ And then Miss Miner leaned back very contentedly in her seat, satisfied that she had done her whole duty by herself, and Ellice Dunning, too. It was just hair-past eight when the cab deposited her at the door of Mr. Carisford Carl’s house—a comfortably cosy place, with the name on the door in full. A servant showed her in, and asked her name; but Miss Miner wanted to surprise her sister, and sent word that a friend wished to see her, while she seated herself in the parlor, where a little girl sat curled up in a cushioned chair, reading. ‘You want to see my mamma I sup pose?’ ‘Y'es,’ said Mrs. Miner with an af fable smile. ‘You are Hetty, I suppose?’ The child gave a heavy sigh. ‘Yes, I’m Hetty. Oh, don’t I hate that name!’ ‘Why, I think it’s a first rate name. ‘Yon are a namesake of somebody, I guess?’ ‘Yes, I am. ‘Old Hetty Miner, my aunt, who lives out in the country. ‘I never have seen her, and I don’t • * * * want to either, ’cause mamma says she’s the meanest old thing in creation— a regular old Miss Nancy, papa says.’ Miss Miner smiled—a little queerly. ‘Oh! that’s what they say, is it? Well, Hetty, I am your aunt Miner. ’ The child opened her eyes wider. ‘Are you? ‘Then won’t mamma be mad! ‘We expect company after awhile, and mamma won’t want you at all. ‘We’d be dreadfully ashamed of you before the Argemons. ‘You’re going to leave us your money, ain’t you! ‘I'apa and mamma said they were most tired of waiting—you had as many lives as a cat. ‘We’re going to Paris as soon as you die.’ ‘Are you? said Miss Miner, with an insane desire to shake the pert self-pos sessed venomous youngster. ‘Well I wouldn’t depend upon it if I were you.’ And before Mrs. Carl came down stairs, Miss Miner was out in the street, on her way to her half-brother’s house. ‘A pretty nest of vipers those Carl’s are! ‘ Thank Heaven, I’ve found them out in time! ‘ Going to Paris on my money! ‘ Why, ungrateful as that little Ellice is, she is not as treacherous as Thy own flesh and blood. * Humph!’ And her complacency was not yet re stored when she left the street-car on the nearest comer to Mr. Parker Doling- by’s bachelor quarters, that was a-light in a perfect blaze of bright cheer! ‘ It looks like a party,’ she thought. But all the same she did not hesitate to go op the imposing stone Steffi and ring the bell, to which no response com ing, she tried the door-knob, afid ad mitted herself into a large brilliantly lighted hall, at the end of which was a room, from which came the sounds of revelry and jollification that had pre vented her ring being heard. Miss Miner went into the first door that stood ajar, and through another partly closed door she saw the gay bach elor party—some ten or fifteen—merry over their wine, ‘ So that’s the way Parker Dollingby does, is it?’ she asked herself grimly, just at the same instant that gentleman’s voice, distinct, boisterous, rose high, and for a second silenced all others. ‘ Here’s to the health of my most re spected ancient mariner-ess—a veritable old maid aM forlorn, whose legacy is a long time coming, but sure to get here some time. ‘ A cool hundred thousand dollars or so, boys: and imagine the swell we will cut when the venerable Mehitable kicks the bucket. ‘ Drink to her, boys!’ Somehow Miss Miner took herself out of the house. She was silent all the wqy to the hotel, and then, once in the room, locked her door, and sat down and actually cried, and then went to bed, wondering if it was ever granted to mortals |o come nearer to being made a fool of than slie had been—and at two o’clock in the morning to awaken with a strange sick feeling that was awful to endure in that big lonely hotel, where die did not know a living soul, <J But she rang for assistance, and the servant brought her a physician who happened to be staying over night; and her life was saved from the terrible at tack of gastralgia by Dr. Frank Olevim ‘ I’D pay you tfhen I get home,’ she when4* said tersely* * A * ‘You ean go with me, if you don’t mind my green veil and bag.’ And so after reaching home, where Ellice Dufining, in readiness to leave by later, opened the door in answer to an imperious summons, Miss Miner stalked in, - followed by Dr. Olevin. ‘ You needn’t be frightened, Ellice, she said, in a wonderfully soft tone of voice. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m the fool not you. ‘Here’s your lover; you can have him and welcome. ‘And when you’re married, I’m going to settle my fortune on you and let you live here; if you’ll give me a room some where. ‘Take off your things and go get a cup of coffee for us?’ And that was tlie way little brown eyed Ellice came into her double inher itance of love and fortune. French »nd American Fire Lawn. Nine oat erf ten of the churches, hos pitals, warehouses and dwellings, eta, of this and other cities—not omitting libraries, oity buildings, and sohool- honses—are complete examples of the work of the masters of combustible building sod architecture. They are faded on theontside with a stone, brick, or iron sham, in the design of which what is miscalled art has bean attemp ted. In tho first eleven months ot 1882 there were burned within the limits of the United States; 962 hotels. 99 churches, 7 hospitals, 14 asylums, 6 almshouses, 62 school-houses, 13 college buildings, 20 court-houses, 2 custom houses; total, 585. These special speci mens of the work of the combustible buildets and architects of our land formed a part of the ash-heap of 1882, valued at $9,000,000. It would be quite safe to affirm that an additional cost, ranging from one to two per seat, upon the construction of these 585 specimens of the incendiary art of the combustible architect which are recited above, would have saved at least two- thirds of the loes of property, and might save a much larger proportion of the loss of life which is uow apt to occur when any of the buddings named in this list take fire. In every case of aerions fire an inquest should be held as to its cause and course, the names of owners, tenants, architects, builders and under writers published, and the faults of ooDstruotion distinctly stated; in other words, let the principle of the French law be applied here, not only in court, but in trial by newspaper. It has lately been stated to me by a French under writer «« fallnwB* In F•U m— sons having fires on their premises are looked upon, as pseudo-criminals, the onus of proof of* their innocence lying with them. Yoa will observe that we burn more than one hotel per day, more than two churches per week, and more than two hospitals, asylums, or alms houses per month in this country, which yet prides itself on its common schools, and which claims especial merit for “gnmption,” mechanical aptitude, and versatility of talent. But we waste in the cost of fires, cost of fire depart ment, and ooet of sustaining oar system of insurance, aside from losses, some where between $120,000,000 and $140,- 000,000 per year—a sum which is more than $1 in every hundred of the gross produet of the whole nation; which is more than ten per cent, upon the annual savings or net incomes of the people in s year of greatest prosperity, and which is in great measure a useless, because perfectly avoidsble, tax, which adds eighteen to twenty per cent, to the $700,000,000 of national State, and mn- nicip»‘ ‘axes which are now collected and paid under our laws. Marrying for Money. A Chinaman Takas a Trout. I heard a sad story of a pretty girl of good family and great ambition, who married the atm of a Congressman a few years ago in the belief that the Con gressman or the son or somebody in the family was rich. Of course, the girl was poor ahd proud and from the South, and she was only too glad to sell herself for the luxury promised her. And of coarse it turned oal that the magnifi cence of the Congressman was hodow, that his diamonds belonged to somebody else, that his horses were another’s, and that his house and its beautiful pictures and fine books and elegant furniture were really not his. He didn't really have anything except the son, and the son had nothing except his foolish, deluded bride, and the story ended in a very miserable way. It was an old story—so old as to be dog-eared »ud somewhat ragg* d. But it served to remind me of another Story, a good one. that 1 heard long ago. There was a man named Watkins in a Confederate regiment during the war, who war well on te vatd middle life; but when his wife uame to c^mp one day she seemed to make him yoaug by comparison. There seemed to lie-a century’s difference between them; and tiie man, who was as ugly as a Georgia cracker usually is, was handsome beside his wife. “How did you ever come to many such an old witch aa that? asked one of bis superior officers, taking him aside. * Well, you see,” said the man, rather sheepishly, “her mother kept a little grocery store down on the corner of the street where 1 lived, sod I used to go there to get what I wanted to eat. One day l found the old woman’s ugly daughter all alone in the stofe, Just *» I came in 1 heard the clink of silver through the lease ratters overhead, and the old woman counting ‘One, two, three,’ and so on, I sat down and made love 40 the girl, and the old woman up stain kept on counting. By-and-by sue was sway up in the hundreds—400, 450 and 500. 1 courted that girl harder and harder aa the old woman got higher and higher. F udiy she stopped at 9QQ. ‘(iff at Scott.!’ I said to myself, ‘Nine hum <1 doUaisI’ 'Beloved Sokey, will you be mine?* She said she would, and we were morried that same day.” “Well, is that aL?” ‘ No, there were only thirty of those silver dollars; the old woman counted them over thirty times.” Perhaps it would be well to investigate a little every time. Sam Lung brought my shirts home one day lately, and after obtaining his trade dollar lingered as though some thing oppressed his mind. “What is it, Sam? Dollar no goode?” asked I. “Yes, dollal all litee, but want to talkee’boutwoodsee.” “Woodsee? What’s that. Sam? Didn’t I give you the rij^it change?” “Change alle litee too; alle same, but want to talk ’bout Adilendacks. You been in Adilondacks, so Melican man tellee me.” “Yes, I have been in the Adirondacks. but what do you knoir about that place?” “Know heap. I bdffifqillondacks too, catchee tlout on string, no likee in net. Likee thlow fly, ttoutee bitee, hookee in jaw, pull him topside. Whoopee! I go washee by Blue Moun tain Lake, big hotel, lookee for heap washee when Melican ladee comee in with whitee dies* mn nobby Melican man come, plenty washee, plenty"' money.” „ “Well, Sam, did you get rich there? Plenty washee and plenty dollar?” ‘ ‘No washee, no dollal. Melican ladee blue dless, Melican mon blue shilt, wear ’em two thlee weeke, no wash. Paye on lailload, walkee baek. Catchee tlout alle sames fore go.” “How did you get the trout, Sam? Tell me all about it.” “Old looster stoppe in hotel. He say ‘Sam, come in boat for guide on lake, me give hall dollal day.’ So I get in boat with old looster and go topside lake to see him scoopee tlout. He get out little bamboo stick and put on stling and little fly. He thlow fly but tloutoe no eatee. Put on more fly, putty fly on sling when he see tlout come topside, and show tall way off. Hf thlow out and stick out hand, no catchee. Leach out again, and- plunk he go out boat and get all wette. Me no leavee him, but pull him topside in boat. He flaid to go back to hotel cause boys laff, so he tell me go shore make fire. I make fire and he pull out big bottle whisky and get dly. I say I go scoope tlout so boys don’t laff when we come backside hotel when no catchee. So I go out and and thlow fly. Think got big bulgee on old slucker to get all fun and half dollal, an’ he sit by fire so sick. “So I thlow fly, alle some Melican man, and say me no cly baby if get wet- tee, like old looster, you bettee you liver; so I thlow and thlow and catchee big fish and thinkee I shake© old looster, and go to hotel and showee tlout to Melican ladee and braggee alle same Melican man. So I tafcee beat and leave old looster on shore. He yellee llk^ fmj, T iuj tutor iuot-tutu nil - n row, go on to hotel, takee fish on stling, and show fine ladee big tlout. She laugh and say ‘nice tlout,’ and call Melican man. He lookee and say tloutoe be blowed, you gottee hawn dace. ’ So I cuttee stick fore old looster come ’longside hotel and kickee me topside stomach, and I hoof it down load twenty-five miles to lailload and stealee lide to Salatoga. Heap washee in Salatoga, water all taste like old tin pail.” “Well, Sam! was that all the tront you took, one horned dace?” “Yes, trout, liawn dace, alle same some calle tloutoe, some calle hawn dace. Calle tlout when Melican man scoope himself, calle hawn dace when oiler feher or Chinaman scoope. Alle I catchee tlout like Melican man “Moqntaln Jim." Several yearp ago, Miss Bird, the En glish lady whose joumeyings by sea and land have made her name a household word, was traveling in Colorado, and stopped at the cabin of “Mountain Jim,” a notorious desperado. She saw a broad, thick-set man, about the middle height, with an old cap on his head and wearing a grey hunting- suit, much the worse for use. His manner was that of a gentleman, and .he spoke with-a refined accent and iiLelegant language. “ You are not an American.!’ he said, as she rode away. “ I know from yoyr voice that yoli are a countrywoman of mine. I hope you will allow me the pleasure of eallingum you.” A few days later, he called to guide Miss Bird up to Long’s Peak, the Amer ican Matterhorn. The ride was a series of glorious surprises, not the least of which were the culture and the love of samee, in Adilondacks. When you go topside Adilondacks again, you takee me fol a guide, I showee you how scoope tlout with fly on stling. Bye bye.” With a smile that was childlike and bland, Sam Lung pungled off in the direction of the Bowery, scarcely soiling the white soles of his shoes in the mud of Broadway as he crossed it. I think I’ll take him into the woods next sea son. A Dinner nnd n Dlmertotlon. An old Dutch merchant of Amster dam, having amassed a large fortune in trade, determined to spend the remnant of his life in the quiet seclusion of his country house. Before taking leave of his city friends he invited them to dine with him. The guests on arriving at his residence were surprised te see the extraordinary preparations that had oeen made tor their reception. On a plain oak table covered with a blue cloth were some wooden plates, spoons and drink ing vessels. Presently two old seamen brought in dishes containing herrings— some fresh, others salted or dried. Of these the guests were invited to partake; but it was clear that they had little appe tite for such poor fare, and with consid erable impatience they awaited the sec ond course, Which consisted of salt beef and greens. This also, when brought in, they did not seem to relish, At last the blue cloth was removed, and one of fine white damask substituted; and the guests were agreeably surprised to see a number of servants in gorgeous liveries enter with the third course, which con sisted of everything necessary to form a moot sumptuous banquet. Tbe master of the house then addressed his friends in the following terms: “ Such, gentle men, has been the progress of our Repub lic. We .began with short frugality, by means of which we became wealthy, and we end with luxury. Which will be get poverty. We should, therefore, be satisfied with our beef ana greens, that we may not have to return to our herr- togs, OlOM Bottlai. In an article published in one of the German scientific journals on the effect of the color of glass bottles on the liquids contained in them, some Interesting facte are -stated. It appears from this that liquors contained in colorless bottles, when exposed for some timo to the light, acquire a disagreeable taste, notwith- standug tbe teot that they may have been of superior quality before being so treated; liquors contained in brown or green busies, however, remain unchang ed in quality, even if exposed to direct sunlight. Since, then, the results in question are due to the chemical action of light, it follows that red, orange, yel- low, green or opaque bottles are essential to the preservation of liquors, while oolorless, blue and violet ones are to be nature shown by Mountain Jim. “ Treat Jim as a gentleman and you’ll find him one,” she had been told on set ting out, and his manners verified the words. r T That night, as they were in camp, sit ting about a huge log fire, the man’s kindness came out. “ Bing ” he said to his dog, as if he was speaking to a roan, “ go to that lady and don’t leave her again to-night.” But Miss Bird also saw that his van ity stimulated him to act and speak so as to sustain his reputation as a desper ado, The Colorado newspaper kept “Mountain Jim” always before the public, and he enjoyed reading the para graphs. One night, as the presence of wild ani mals made it impossible to sleep, he told her stories of his early youth and of the great sorrow which led him to begin a lawless life. His voice trembled and tears rolled down his cheeks. His dark soul beamed stirred to . remorse by the lignt o£ other days. - . It was a painful spectacle to the Eng lish ladv. His magnificent head show ed the better possibilities which might have been realized. ~ His chivalrous man- nqr to w<jman indiqited the Ejatural gen tleman. Yet there he hat by the camp-fire among the Sierras, a ruffian, whose life had been ruined and wasted. “ What good.” she thought, “can the future have in store for this desperado who so long has said to evil, be thou my. good!”’ • * The next morning day dawned long before the aim rose. The Englishwoman sat looking at the pure lemon-colored atmosphere, “ Ring ” by her side, when one of the party called to her to come far ther down the slope: *’* * > * a naxra *‘~ 4 ‘ aan mw-h a She went. Looking up to Long’s Peak, it seemed cold and gray. The everlast ing snows, the silvered pines, the Plains also, appeared chilling in the blue-gray light. A dazzling streak shone in the east, and suddenly the sun rose above the gray horizon, as full of light and glory as when first created. i The gray changed to purple. Tbe sky blushed in one rose-red flush.’ The cold peaks glistened like rubies. The Plains appeared, in their limitless ex panse, as if the Creator’s hand had just rolled them out Mountain Jim, reverently uncovering his head, exclaimed in a low, tender voice,—“I believe there is a God!” Alas for Mountain Jim! awe, even when inspired by the Creator’s works, is not the repentance-which begets a new life. , “ If you want to know,” he said one day .to Miss Bird, when she tried to lead him to a better life, “how nearly a man can become a devil, I’ll tell you.” Then he told her the sad story of a runaway boy, living the reckless life of a drunken ruffian. She urged him as the first step to amendment to give up whisky. “ I cannot,” he said sadly. “It binds me hand and foot. I cannot give up the only pleasure I have.” She plead with him, but he exclaimed in tones of despair,— “ Too late ! too late! It might have been once, but now it is too late for me to change! Planting By Signs. Five years a Sentinel. One of Napoleon’s sentinels met with a remarkable adventure, and though he did not exactly “stand and wait,” he secured through his quick wit the advantage due to such service. He had been posted on a retired spot on the Isle of Rugen, which was occupied by a detachment from Davoust’s corps. Some alarm caused the troops to em bark with precipitation and they forgot this sentinel, who himself was so ab sorbed in a newspaper containing a re port of Napoleon’s recent victory as not to observe their departure. After pac ing bis post for several hours, without being relieved, he became impatient and returned to the guard-room. He found it empty, and learned that his comrades had left the island. “Alas!” be cried, in despair. “I shall be- looked upon as a deserter- —dishon ored, lost—unhappy wretch that I am.” A baker, pitying the poor fellow, took him to his home, consoled him, taught him to make bread and after several months had shown that I z was smart and industrious, gave him his daughter, Justine, in marriage. Five years after a strange sail was seen approaching the island. Tbe inhabitants, flocking to the bead), disbovered on the deck of the ship a number of soldiers wearing the uniform of ths French army. “I’m done for now,” cried the dis mayed husband of Justine, “My bread is baked.” An original idea revived his courage. He ran to the house, slipped into nis uniform, seiced Mo firelock, returned to the beach and posted himself as a tinel at the .moment the French were landing, “Who goes there?” he shouted in a voice like thunder. “Who goes than? yourself,” replied one in tbe boat. “Who are you?” “A sentinel.” .'.i - , “How long have you been on guard?’ , “Five years.” “Davbust, for he ,r as laughed at the quaint reply, and gave a discharge in due form to nis involuntary deserter, Cabbage seed should be sown when the sign is in the head. Plant potatoes in a down sign, toward the feet. Plant beet and radish seed when the sign is in the leg, and onions when the sign is in the heart. Plant beans in the light of tbe moon, and peas when the moon is full. Plant melon and cucumber seed when the sign is in the arms, but not in the blossom. Plant corn and sow wheat in the light of the moon. Sow clover seed in a down sign. Make soap in the light of the March moon. Kill hogs on the increase bf the moon; if on the decrease the meat cooks away. Many say that a light feed before butchering will prevent this. There is always frost when the moon changes with the sign in the head. This is called superstition, but that charge will not refute the arguments of astrologers. They ask, if the moon has an influence on inorganic bodies, why not on organic ? If on the tides, why not on vegetable growth ? The fact that most vegetables that grow down should be planted in a down sign, and those that grow up in an up sign, looks as if the time for planting were made to correspond with the signs. If your correspondent will carefully ex periment he will better reach a satisfac tory conclusion. A good rule is, if ready and season favorable, plant and not wait for the proper sign. Some of our very best far mers are strict observers of signs, and some are not. Well-Kept Eyebrow*. If the eyebrows, are inclined to spread irregularly, pinch the hairs together where thickest. If they show a tenden cy to meet, this contact may be avoided by pulling out the hairs every morning before the toilet. The dash of Orienta lism in costume and face now turns the lady’s attention to her eyelashes, which are worthless if not long and drooping. Indeed, so prevalent is the desire for this beautiful feature that hair-dressers and ladies’ artists have scores of cus tomers under treatment for invigorat ing their stunted eyelashes and eyebrows. To be sure, for evening a lady cau manufacture a magnificent article with 4 crayon of Egyptian black, or a com mon jrnatch, if dnven to an exigency, cover a multitude of facial errors; but when it comes to an after-dinner recep tion or lunch party, the genuine article or a very good counterfeit is necessary. To obtain these fringed curtains, anoint these roofs with a balsam made of two drachms.of nitric oxide of mercury mixed with one of leaf lard. After an application wash the roots with a camel’s- hair brush dipped in warm milk. Tiny scissors are used, with which the lashes are carefully, but slightly, trimmed every other day. When once obtained, refrain from rubbing or even touching the lid with the fingernails. There is more beauty in a pair of well-kept eye brows, and full, sweeping eyelashes, than people are aware of, and a. very unattractive and lusterless eye assumes new beauty wiien it looks out from beneath elongated fringes. Instead of putting cologne water on the handker chief, which has come to be considered a vulgarism among ladies of correct taste, the perfume is spent on the eye brows and lobes of the ears. The Earth’s Crust. Mr. Robert Ward, considers that the assumption is a fallacy that all but the crust of the earth is a mass of liquid fire. One of the results of the Challen ger and other explorations of deep ocean, he says, is to determine that the water towards its bottom is freezing cold. Considering that the ocean covers nearly three-fourths of the entire globe, this fact does not support the theory of central heat accompanied by radiation. The .coldest water, it is true, usually sinks by its greater weight toward the bottom, and that, it may be said, ac counts for its coldness; but on the the ory of radiation the w"ater of the ocean has been for long geological ages sup ported upon the thin crust of tbe earth, through which the central heat has been constantly escaping, and yet it is still of. freezing coldness. Experience would say that the heat cannot have escaped through the water without warming it, because tbe capacity of the water for heat is greater than that of any other substance. We can no more, he con cludes, imagine such a radiation and consequent accumulation of heat in the ocean without the natural result of a great rise in the temperature, than we can believe in a kettle resting for hours on a hot fire without the usual result of boiling water! School Houses. A medical commission w’as appointed some time ago in Germany to study and investigate certain questions relating to the construction of school buildings. In the matter of ventilation the com mission states that each pupil in a school ought to have 2,120 cubic feet of fresh air each hour, at the least. It is stated also that light from the rear is admissible, but is not recommended, and windows facing the pupils are prohibit ed. Walls of neighboring buildings painted white and reflecting the sun shine into the school-room are very iniurtous, and the owners should be persuaded or obliged Jo paint them of a dark color. 'The inside face of the walls of the school-room itself is to be painted pale blue or bluish white, and tbe ceiling pnre white. Artificial light should be used without hesitation on dark and short days. It is mine dan gerous to work by insufficient daylight than by gaslight. Argand burners are preferable, as givings a steadier light, and ground glass globes are objectiona ble on account of the large proportion of light which they absorb. FOOD FOB THOUOH1. IS Class not the idle among the living* they are a sort of dead men who can’t be bnried. When a good resolution is formed, beware of the tempter—he is then al ways nearest. Charity obliges us not to disturb a man; prudence not to trust him before we know him. When thou prayeet, rather let thy heart be without words than thy wordti without heart. Retribution stands with uplifted axe and culture, rank, and robee of sanctity cannot stay its blow. Every person you meet with, in tffe ~ peculiarity of the character presented, affords food for thought. Be loving, and youjriii neV®| for love. Be humble, and yoir never want for guidance. J/ It is the great art and phin/ life to make the best of the’ whether it be good or bad. Rashness generally ends f shame; young men are Scripture to be aober-mind; The darkest chapter in man is the tendency to p reputation of his fellow nu Oa< : of the lessons wl people have to learn by ex the power of deeds and worth*, j Sin is of so very little ren gust, that it is always greater pectation than in the possession. Take up one by one the plain, practi cal duties that lie nea: a. to hand and perform them as fast as possible. Power turns a deaf ear to the re proaches of those who are without ths power of redressing their wrongs. For a man to think that he ii going to do the work of his life withuut ob stacles, is to dream in the lap of folly. The habit of being always employed M a safeguard through life, as web as essential to the culture of every virtue. He who is false to present dutv breaks a flaw in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten its cause. Modesty is the appendage of sobriety, and it is to chastity, to temperance, and to humility, as the fringes are to a garment. The man who contents himself to-day with that which he nas, will content himself to morrow with that which he marfcave. spreads; all false pretenses, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any coun terfeit last long. I know not whether the dictionary defines gossip better than he that said, gossip is putting two and two together’ and making it five. It is the favor of man which gives the beauty and oomllneea to woman, as the stream glitters no longer when the sun oea-etb to shine. Humility is everywhere preached, and pride practiaed; they persuade others to labor for heaven, and fall out about earth themselves. - There is no time in a man’s life when he is so great as when he cheerfully bows to the necessity of his position, and makes the best of it. There is no short cut to excellence. In every department of human achieve ment superiority is baaed upon toil, and success is reached only by effort. Your relations with God decide your life in the world. If you would walk with God, first be with Him in the depths and intensity of your own soul. All who have meditated on the art of governing mankind, have been con vinced that the fate of empires cer tainly depends on the education of youth If men would spend in doing good to others a quarter of the time and money they spend in doing harm to them selves, misery would vanish from the earth. There is a deep significance in si lence. Were a man forced for a length of time bnt to hold his peace, it were in most cases an incalculable benefit to his sight It takes four things to be a gentle man—you must be a gentleman in your principles, a gentleman in your tastes, a gentleman in your manners, and a gentleman in your person. Be who labors wholly for the benefit of others, and. as it were, forgets him* self, is far happier than the man who makes himself the sole object of all his afleotions and exertions. For the best results there need be the longest waiting. The true harvest is the longest in being reached. The failures come first, the success last. The unsatisfactory is generally soonest seen. It is better in some respects to be admired by those with whom you live, than to be loved by them. And this not on account of any gratification or vanity, bnt because admira’ion is so much more tolerant than love. The withered leaf is not dead and lost. There are forces in it and around it, thongh working in inverse order, else how could it rot? Despise not tbe rag from which paper is made, or the litter from which the earth makes corn. If there is anything which even a very clever yorng man ought to con gratulate himseL on, it is the knowl edge ♦*riy acquired, that he isn’t a geni*. j. For, if he thinks otherwise the chances are that the mistake may spoil him. , ; To do worthy and noble deeds; to love all that is good and great, and those who are good and great; and out of human experience to extract, like hone> sees from blossoms, the sweet ness t.hat is hidden in them; to treasure it up In heaven, whereon to feed throughout eternity, this is ail that life has in H worth the living, Mf- \ IL-KlSH Wt ?*<•