University of South Carolina Libraries
Fress and Banner By HUGH WILSON. Wednesday, Sept. 24, 1890. 9 ' uet It be Instilled into the Hearts of I Yo\Children that tlie Liberty of the Press I ij the Palladium of all Your Rights." Er Twelve Images. he world is full of rascals who are "whip behind." ^^ he Louisiana sugar crop will be a BHK y bountiful one this season. BRfBtVhile the men in (Jernuiny aredrillS^^nuig, and being made into soldiers, | ? -o women work. 'Lussia is despotic, but sensible in ? so. ?e things. Her saloon keepers are jo longer allowed to sell liquor to working nu n on credit. K There are one hundred and forty-; three garrisoneil forts, arsenals and N military po*ts in tlie United States. B The census shows a decrease in the, I population of Illinois during the last | decade. Certain papers not friendly | to the cause of prohibition tell us that I 9 the attempt on the part of the temper* ?ncc i.khiIc of that State to prohibit S the liquor traffic lias caused this deI crease. We are afraid that the deI crease is di:e to some cither cause. If | prohibition lias caused such an exodus of saloon keepers and saloon loafers! ^ vfroni Illinois that the population is now less than it was ten years a<;o, Illinois must lie a very pleasant place to live in. As soon as the fact is known, j thousands of people who are looking! for a pleasant community to live in will go to fhe^ "Buckeye State."?I'aA cific Mcthodi* . \ "The week before Hen. \V. J. Xor-1 then was nominated for governor,"! relates the Atlanta, (ia., Journal, "lie; was short one hand in his field. He! took that hand's place and dropped] peas like the rest. The day before the [ convention he put on an apron and tautrht a woman how to churn. Then he laid aside the apron, came to At Junta, and in and able and patriotic; speech accepted the nomination for,' governor." It has been a pleasanter summer,; so far as weather goes, than that of 18S9, j but losses of life from accidents have) been remarkably larjre. The number reported in the ordinary course of news gathering as having perished in the last three mouths, according to The Chicago Tribune, comprehend 222 by fire, 828 by drowning, 202, by explosions, 51 by falling buildings, 94 in mines, 299 by cyclones and storms, 1067 on railroads, and 237 by lightning. The secret of Africa's isolation from j the benefits and blessings of civilization and light that has fallen on t he j rest of t he world, is to be found in the j cataracts t>i utrj uij; i i?cij>, ?nu m ?, lesser degree to the inhospitableness of the climate. The cataract* of the Congo, the Niger, and the Zambezi, however, aud the cataracts and sudd r 4 of the Nile, have been aud are the real obstructions. Were the Congo as navigable as the Mississippi, and the Nile as free from obstructions to vessels as the Danube or the Yaug-tse-Kiang, Uganda would now be sending us silk-stuH's and calico instead of ivory, aud glolie-trotters would be picnicing and wintering on the islands of the Victoria Nyanza.?From "African River and Lake Systems," by Thomas Steevens, in September Scribner. Domestic Uses for Ammonia. A little ammonia in tepid water will j soften and cleanse the .skin. Spirits of ammonia will often relieve i a severe headache. Door plates should he cleansed by j rubbing with a cloth wet in ammonia and water. If the color has been taken out of silks by fruit stains ammonia will usually restore the color. To brighten carpets wet them with warm water in which has been poured a few drops of ammonia. One or two tablespoonfuls of ammonia added to a pail of water will clean windows better than soap. A few drons in a ctioful of warm water, applied carefully," will remove spots l'roni paintings and chromos. Grease spots may be taken out with weak ammonia in water; lay soft, white paper over and iron with a hot iron. "When acid of any kind gets on J clothing spirits of ammonia will kill; it. Apply chloroform to restore tlx/: color. Keep nickel, silver ornaments and! mounts bright by rubbing with wool-j len cloth .saturated with spirits of am j w wonia. , j 7 Old brass may be cleaned to lookj like new by pouring strong ammonia on it and scrubbing with a scrub) brush ; rinse in clear water. A tablespoonful of ammonia in aj gallon of warm water will often re-1 store colors in carpets. It will also reImove whitewash trom them. Yellow stains left by sewing machine oil on white may be removed by rubbing the spot with a cloth wet witn ?mnmnin iicfore washimr with soan. i I Equal pin ts of ammonia and turpentine will take paint out of clothing, I even if it lie hard ami dry. Saturate! the spot as often as necessary and; wash out in soap suda. Put a teaspoonful of ammonia in ai quart of water, wash your brushes and combs in this, and all grease and drtj will disappear. Rinse, shake and dry in the sun or by the lire. It is said that a comoany of "young ladies" lias been oiganized in Wyo-| mi tig to celebrate tlie date of its I statehood, and that it has been inus-l * 1 ! ??* Mil. i?wrnl:if wrvini* of the! H UJicu iiuw n?v . x.ra. . _ H State. If Hie women are going into; H the business of politics "and sich" let! them light too. a# But we had Imped to enlist thej B women in the cause of pence, and l>e-: In Jieve we shall. This is only u "spurt" j H of some foolish girls whose mothers 0 had better put them into better busi-i j less than pa radius: around in thej "regular insignia" of their office. 1 To rejoice in the happiness of ofli-j I ers, is to make it our own ; to produce! S| it, Is to make it more than our own. j Hill Arp. Two hundred million dollars a year for pensions. That much as a reward ' ! for whipping us and they make us pay! a third of it and don't give a dollar i back nor say thank you. Since the war the South has paid over three hundred millions of that pension mon-j ey ami her part will be sixty-six millions a year from now on without end. j When will this thing stop? Is if. a I fact that Northern pensioners neverj die? One year ago there were 48J?| thousand ami now there are olio thousand. Tliey "get more thicker, more; denser" as Cobe says. There are over 4?J(i thousand invalid soldiers who have | survived the last war. They must be a sickly set or our boys hurt them mighty bad. I thought that in twenty-Jive years most of them would either dfe or get well, but they are the' outlivinsrest soldiers I heard of. The| j strangest thing about it is that while (the number of the men increase so does the number of widows. How is that. Nobody dies, and yet there are I l'j thousand widows on the rolls. Eight thousand more widows than there were a year ago. Must be grass widows I reckon. Nine million dollars were paid out in Illinois last year, and it will be doubled under the late big steal. No wonder the North is rich. No wonder they have millions lying idle in the banks. No wonder they are coming down hereto invest | it, and no wonder our people are poor and hard run. That two hundred millions will be annually distributed! among forty millions of people, and that is live dollars a piece to every] man, woman and child. A town ofi ten thousand people will get fifty j thousand dollars a year. Our little! village of C'artersviile has 3/>00 peo-i pie, and would get seventeen thousand j dollars if justice was done. Just think i of it. Contemplate the l>eautiful pic-1 ture. We would get that much for; nothing. It would just come pouring) 1 i ..f .. KAa. 111 every year iiKe nieai uui m a u^jj- ( per. \Ve would all gel rich and build tine school houses and churches audi pay the preachers good salaries, and | build a new courthouse and pave the side walks and our young folks would have something to marry on. J'>ut all this is a delusive dream. We have not got anybody hardly to pension. Our veterans either die or get well, and there were only a little over a half million, all told, from be-j ginning to end of the war. Oun Northern brethren had nearly three millions?about five soldiers to every one of ours. It is astonishing how bail we did hurt them for they have now got about as many invalids on their rolls as we had soldiers. Every rebel must have made one yankee sick, besides what he killed in battle. If I was a yankee I would never brag any more. I'd be ashamed. Two hundred millions a vear, oh, my country ! Hal's Eyes Opened. "Xo, Daisy. You cannot have my IWIIV1 KJVf VUV4 v t "I mean when you don't want them, Htil lie," iiiui Daisy's blue eyes pleaded anxiously as she looked at Hallie. "I want to clean them wtenever I'm done with them, and hang them up in the hag Aunt Alice is making for me." "You might let me have them just a ' few minutes, Hallie." ! "You don't know how to use them." j "I could learn. Please, Hallie, just let me try. I know I could learn." "Learn on your own, then," answer- 1 ed Hal, crossly, as he walked away, 1 muttering, "I earned the skates with i my own money. I'm not going to let Daisy spoil them." He did not see Aunt Alice on the j stoop. i Hallie Brown was not an uelv bov. < but he was inclined to be selfish. Pie i would have been very indignant if anv one had told him he made his 1 cousin, Daisy Holt, unhappy. He I really loved her; but she was so gen- ' tie that she did not resent many of the i ungenerous, ungracious things lit* did. I When Hallie left Daisy she walked . slowly home with a very sorrowful ] heart. She could not understand how < Hallie could refuse so small a favor. She could not conceive of refusing Hallie any enjoyment that depended i on loaning anything she possessed. | After tea he sat in the sitting-room with the family, when he suddenly thought of a new illustrated set of Irving that Aunt Alice had received at Christmas. He said : "This is a free evening, Aunt Alice; may I have12 your Irving to look at?" "No, Hal. I've made up my mind 11 to be very careful of my Irving, and J keep it in the box when I'm not using' 1 it." I A surprised, angry look came into 1 < Hal's face. Aunt Alice, sweet Aunt, Alice, had never refused him any 1 thing before. Daisy, who had come in j with her mamma, was as much sur- s prised and puzzled as Hal was. No one else seemed to notice Auntji Alice's answer hut the children. Hal j took down Bancroft from the shelves, j but he could not interest himself, or! overcome the unpleasant efleet of the It refusal of his simple request. "I'll sharpen up my new pencils, and have them ready for Monday," he! | thought. "Pupa's knife is sharper! than mine ; I'll borrow it. "Papa," lie said, aloud, "please lend h me your kuil'e; I waut to sharpen my i t new pencils." L "No ! I've made up my mind not to j t lend my knife. When I'm done us- r ing it, I am going (o wipe it off, and j keep it in my pocket. No, I cannot 1 lend my knife; earn one yourself." "Papa!'' and Hal almost burst into), tears. Never in his life had he receiv- j. ed such an aiiswer from his father, j, Hurt, mortified, mid jinirrv. h? htirif'd 1 . his face iti his hands for some minutes.1 A soft, gentle touch roused him, and; Daisy said: "Hallie, I brought over| my new game. Don't you want to see' it?" I He looked at the gentle little girl,i whose face was full of sympathy.! Just beyond was his father's, full of] reproach, and Aunt Alice's, sorrowful,! and saying so plainly, "Do you de-! serve lier kindness?" I A blush covered Hal's face as he remem bered the scene of the afternoon,1 and his refusal to grant a favor to the little gil l who was always so ready to share every pleasure, every gift. The lesson was not forgotten. Tattling must be inherited; "blood will tell" you know. mm Cruel Caps. The following protest from an article iu The Home. Maker is none too strong against .he foolish, if not the barbarous, fashion of close-tilting while caps for babies and little children as articles of street wear: First, the thin material of the cap drawn tightly over the top of the head is 110 protection whatever. Let a mother who has just sent her twoyear-oh1 toddler out for an hour in the park with nothing on his head but a lawn cap, tie a handkerchief over her own head and sit half an hour iu the sun ; if she returns to the house without a headache, she will be a great exception to the rule. Yet the thought does not occur to her that the baby, whose head is much more sensitive than her own, will suffer the same discomfort as long as he is in the sun. Of course, a child in a carriage, protected by shade or parasol, is saved from this disadvantage of the close cap, and 1 am glad to say that some caps are made with fancy pulled crowns that obviate the dilliculty ; but I am inclined to think this is done more for ornament than comfort. J Second, is it not cruel, in warm .I...( ...Sii,I ic \Y Uill Ill'I f IICIJ CWI J U1UUI1I ui niuu io | precious, to so cover the back of a baby's head and neck, his ears, and part of his face that the air cannot touch him ? And there is not only the cap, but the hair, the warmest kind of a covering, is pressed tight against the neck, so that on removing the cap there is a profuse perspiration all over head and neck and ears. And yet many people think that because the airy looking little things are so thin ami light they must be cool. ] Third?and most important?there is not the slightest shade a Honied by this perfectly brim less head-gear. The liitle rulHe of lace or lawn is never put far enough over the face to hide the "bangs so the tender eyes are utterly unprotected irom me glare 01 the sunlight. Any woman would think it perfectly barbarous if she had to walk in the summer sun with only a small bonnet on and no parasol. It is a pity that the old-fashioned baby's sun-hats that were made in two pieces, brim and crown, that buttoned on to one another, has quite disappeared. In a hat of this sort tliere was a fullness formed by the crown being larger than the inner edge of the brim, that caused openings through which the air could pass over the head. They could be made of pique or even embroidery, and were easily laundried. Surely, in this age of dress reform, we should reject a fashion that so sacrifices comfort; and if any member of the family should be exempt from duty to "the style," it is the little innocent who cannot describe his sutterinfrs;. sind. not, knowinir their cause. cannot ask f<y their removal. Black Stockings.?As it is so fashionable for both children and grown folks to wear black stockings, it is well to know how to wash them so they will not fade. Both cotton and woolen should always be washed before they are worn. Lay them all night to soak in cold water. Wash them next day by themselves in two waters, warm, but not hot, the soap being previously rubbed into the water so as to form a lather before the stockings are put in, and mixing with the first water a tablespoonful of gall. Then rinse them, first in lukewarm water, until the dye ceases to come out and the last water is colorless. Stretch them and hang them out immediately in the air to dry as fast as possible. Care of Horses.?In keeping a liorse there is as much in the driver as in the feed, sensibly observes a writer on the subject. A horse well curried, and rubbed with a woolen rag afterward, is sure to make a sleek-coated borse, and when well-groomed is, we may say, half-fed. A cross and nervous driver will fill the horse with fear md dread, and will rapidly run bis horse down. Use your animal kindly. Always be firm and make it mind, but never get excited. A cool-headed iriver makes a long-headed horse. What They Make.?Tin and lead tnake pewter. Tin and copper make gun metal. Copper and tin make bath metal. Copper and zinc make Dutch gold. Tin and copper make cannon metal. Tin and copper make bronze metal. Lead and antimony make type met Gold ami copper make standard jold. Copper and arsenic make white copper. Silver and copper make standard jopuer. Lead and a little arsenic make sheet 11 eta 1. Gold, copper and silver make old standard gold. Copper and zinc make bell metal md mosaic gold. Tin, antimony, copper and bismuth nake brittannia ware. Copper, nickel and zinc, with a litle iron, muke German silver. A Giut.'s Temptation.?This is low she told of it herself: "I've begun to find such little, mean itreaks in myself that I'm quite frightsned. Guess what I was tempted to lo the other day! I was washing the lishes for mamma, and when I got to he tins and kettles I was discouraged. I'hey looked so greasy and black, and ['ve always been a little vain of my lands. "I am going to Kitty Merrill's party o-night, and I want to keep my hands lice for that. I'll leave these for mainTia; it won't make any difference ,vith her hands, because she can't keep nem nice. "Then something seemed to say to ne, 'Oli, you little coward. Oh, you ittle sneak ! To be willing to have ,vhiter hands than your mother! \rn't you ashamed ?' I was ashamed, mil I washed the kettles pretty hum>Iy, I can tell you. I felt as if they weren't half so black as I. Since then [ have watched all my thoughts, for 'ear I shall grow so wicked mamma won't know me. I have learned thor- j )ughly what the minister means when le talks about the little foxes that >poil the grapes of a tine character." If windows are wiped oil'once a week on the inside with a slightly lamnened cloth it will save washing 10 often. The Honest Boy. A gentleman from the country plac-j I ed his son with a dry-goods merchant( | in street. At length a huly camel i to the store to purchase a silk dress, ; and the young man waited upon her. I The jnice demanded was agreed to, I ! and iie proceeded to fold the goods.' ! He discovered before he had finished a! ' Haw in the silk, and pointing it out to' | the lady, said, "Madam 1 deem it my duty to tell you there is a fracture in . the silk." Of course she did not tnke it. The merchant overheard the remark; and immediately wrote to the father of the young man to come and take him home ; "for," said he, "he will never make a merchant." The father, who had ever reposed confidence in his son, was much grieved and hastened to the city to he informed of his deficiencies. "Why will he not innke a merchant?" asked he. "Because he has no tact," was the answer. "Only a day or two ago. he told a lady, voluntarily, who was buying silk of him, that the goods were damaged, and I lost the bargain. Pur cnasers must iook one lor uiemsoives. If they cannot discover flaws, it would Le foolishness of me to tell them of their existence." "And is that all the fault?" asked the parent. "Yes," answered the merchant, "he is very well in other respects." "Then I love my sou better than ever, and I thank you for telling me of the matter ; I would not have him another day in your store for the world V'?Lc(f(/rr. Appreciation of Mother. An old Virginia minister said lately: "Men of my profession see much of the tragic side of life. I have seen men die in battle, have seen children die, but no deaih ever seemed so pathetic to me as the death of an aged mother in my church. I knew her first as a young girl, beautiful, gay, full of joy and hope. She married, and bad four children. Iler husband died, and left her penniless. She sewed, she made drawings, she taught, she gave herself scarcely time to eat or sleep. .ravery inougni was ror xier children, to educate them, to Rive tliem the advantages their father would have given them had he lived. She succeeded. She sent her boys to college and her girls to school. When all came home they gave themselves up to tneir own selfish pursuits. "She lingered among them some! three years, and then was stricken with mortal illness, brought on by overwork. The children gathered around her bedside. The oldest sou took her iu his arms. He said, 'You have been a good mother to us.' That I was not much to say, was it? It was much to her, who had never heard anything like it. A flush came over her pallid face, and with a husky voice she whispered, 'My son, you never said so before!' " Mouknixo Coloks.?As death is the exact opposite of life, it is natural that the living who see one of their number pass away should express grief at his departure. From this feeling comes the "outward trappings of woe," as Hamlet calls mourning. But it is somewhat strange that these outward trappings should differ so largely. The following are the various colors used for mourning in differ t'lji countries, lugeiiici wuii lijc jcusons given for the selection : Black?Expresses deprivation of light. Worn throughout Europe and America. Scarlet?Mourning color. Occasionally worn by French kings. Yellow?The sere and yellow leaf. Egypt and Burniah. Iu Brittany widows'caps among the peasants are yellow. Purple and Violet?To express royalty. Mourning for cardinals and kings in France. Violet color mourning for Turkey. White?Emblem of "white-handed hope." China. Deep Blue?Bokhara mourning. The significance of this selection is not knowu. Pale Brown?The withered leaves. Persia. . Grayish Brown?Earth. Ethiopia and Abyssinia. ( Manners.?T make it a point of| morality never to find fault with an- , other for his manners. They may be , awkward or graceful, blunt or polite, polished or rustic, I care not what they are. if the man means well and ( acts from honest intentions, without , eccentricity or affectation. All men have not the advantages of "good-so- j ciety," its it is called, to school them- , selves in all its fantastic rules and cer-i j emonies; and if there is any standard I, of manners, it is founded on reason! and good sense, and not upon these ar-| titicial regulations. Manners, likej conversation, should be extemporane- h ous and not studied. I always sus-L pect a man that meets me with the!] same perpetual smile oii his face, the ( same bending of the body and the j same premeditated shake of the hand. , Give me the hearty?it may be rough j ?grip of the hand, the careless nod of { recognition, and. when occasion re- ] quires, the homely but welcome salu- tation, "How are you old friend ?" A good .story is told by the Rev. C. R. Rice, pastor of the'First Church, Independence, Kan. Several years j ago the Rev. 13. F. Crary, I). D., then; presiding elder in Colorado, visited; Mr. Rice's family at Emporia, Kansas., Being very deaf he constantly used ai large ear-trumpet, in appearance like a j large pipe. Air. Rice's three-year-old boy, after making his acquaintance,! went into his mother's room, and ex-' pressed his surprise by saying: J "Ma, that grandpa smokes /lis pipe, j with his car.11 , Many promising young colts have been ruined by being teased ; as a re-, suit of teasing they become vicious and treacherous at all times. It de-j ponds altogether on the kind of treat-j ment a colt gets whether it will make \ a kind and gentle or vicious and r litawuciwiin iiuinv* * A small piece of paper or linen i moistened with turpentine, ami put, :i into the wardrobe or drawers for a sin- I gle day or two or three times a year, is 11 a preventive against moths. jc The best three me Moines in the world i > are warmth, abstinence and repose. a Johnnie's Complaint. Our preacher flays?an' course he's right? It's very wrong to tell h lib, (So mother's Uiught me ever since She rocked me In my little crib), That's why 1 can't Just understand Why In his sermons he will run Along like sixty when he's said, ' Bat one word more and I have done." When first I heard him say those words They made me Kind, tor I, you see. Whs tired, lor half-hour sermons seem Enough for In lie folks like me; But gracious! I was quite surprised To find he'd only Just begun. When pausing for a breath, he said, "But one word more and I have done." I wonder what he'd think If I Should say, when at his home I'd sup, 'Just one plum more and I have done, ' Then eat his wife's preserves all up? I guess he'd ask me what I meant, I'd have to say I was in fun, .Just like be must be when he says. "But one word more and I have done." M'xdr. Whipple, in Jtichnwml DLipatch. V Meetings and Partings. We walk about this little world together with our hands clasped. We played together in the woods and field, and our laughter mingles, and our arms are entwined. We whisper to each other as we wander round the quaint old gardeii in the twilight, and our lips are pressed together, and onr eyes looked into one another's. We bend lovingly over the same small cot. We weep together over the same giave. We sit together by the fireside, and the Summers and the Winters come and go ; and at last, one of us rising, smiles, and kissing the other, says "good-bye," and goes out into the darkness, closing the door behind and the other sits alone. We have known each other's forms and faces, the sound of one another's voice, the touch of owe another's hand, but our real selves?our secret thoughts, our minds, our souls?they are strangers to each other. They have never looked upon each other. They have never met. We are travelers in a strange land, who, meeting by chance upon the road, have chummed on to one another, and walked the rest of the way together. We have chatted and laughed and joked and helped each other, and after a short while our roads have parted, and we have lingered at the crossways, watching him out of sight, a little sad for a moment. How pleas ant he seemed : how frunk ! how'grod! What sort of a roan really was he? we wonder. Shall we ever see him again? Ah, me ! how sad it seems, these meetings and these partings on the road of life. How weary the dusty way stretches out before us, when our comrade has left us and we turn to trudge on alone. How we wish our journey's end was come. How we shall hate thelongmiles. How cheerless the way will be! But, as we walk, the soft breeze kisses our acheing eyes, and through the shadow of the leaves the sunbeams dance and play and little brooks are running at our feet, and the birds are pouring forth sweet music in the morning air ; and in spite of us, and though we struggle to retain our sorrow, and are ashamed to feel we are lightly made, we can so soon forget, our heart is leaping to the life around us, and ere a few more miles are passed, we are laughing gaily with some new-found friend. Read and Think. George F. Pearsons regards the sa!oon as a hideous abuse. He says in thf? A Hnniif Afnnf.hht ; "While labor is throwing away that enormous sum annually, with what show of consistency can it lament its 1 condition? One year's remission of that destructive self-indulgence would ' j-olve every labor problem extant. At 1 present the workingman can hardly ; make both ends meet; is it not because : he insists on creating capitalists out of saloon-keepers? The saloon is the ' most hideous abuse of the day, but [ where could it be if the workinpmen , withdrew their support from it? It keeps them poor. It stifles progress. It brutalizes husbands and fathers, j it breaks women's hearts, puts rags on : the workman's back, disease in his ] body, and sbame and despair in nis : heart. Vet when labor is most dis- 1 turbed, when the demand for advanc- < ed wages is loudest, when strikes are 1 most frequent, when hunger and mis- * ery are most rife in the homes of the ! poor, the saloon flourishes still. There may be 110 bread at home, but there is always beer and whiskey at the bar, \ and the men who consider themselves the victims of circumstances or the J 'tlirails' of capital, squander their ' earnings in these dens. Cau there be ! 1 serious labor question while this ! r\f fl>innAtifinnuci 9 fun wapIt. ' 3UIIC VSJL lUIUgO WUVIUUW VMM Tf Vk M ingmen talk gravely of their wrongs ? tvhile it is plain to all the world that J if they only saved the capital they ?arn they would be comfortable?" Have you ever seen or perhaps 1 nade one of a party who are going to < jxplore a dark, deep cavern?Mam- t uoth Cave of Kentucky, or the Cata- t :ombsof Rome ? They all stand out t n the sunlight, and the attendants, e .vho know ihe journey they are go- t ngto make, pass round among them, d ind put into the hands of each a n ighted caudle. How useless it seems e -how pale and colorless the little t lame appears in the gorgeous flood of " iunlisht ! But the procession moves h ilong ; one after another enters the " lark cavern's mouth ; one after an>ther loses the splendor of daylight; n the hands of one after another lie feeble candle-light comes out 0 jright in the darkness ; and by 0 ind by they are walking in the dark, t lolding fast to their candles as if they c vere their very life?totally depend- j, 'lit upon what seemed so useless t lalf an hour ago. That seems to me j] i picture of the way in which God's v ironiise of consolation, which we at- ^ acli very little meaning to at first,',, onie out into beauty and value as we s >ass on into our lives. r Phillips liroolcit, J). I) i ? ? . ? if I * We make our lives cold prose, when j ve might make them poems. Wej nuke our lives lyrics, when we might nake them epics?brave, progressive, i > riumphant. We hiiild the house ol'jn character of lumber?and poor lumber; v it I hat?when we might build it of! I; jrick; we build it of brick, when weId night build it of granite. We try to,t ireate a breeze of some moral or spiritmi Inspiration from our own lungs, vheu we might feel the strong anil c iteucly wind of heaven. People who agree in their Iptetlecfe^^^ al, moral aud physical tastes, ahd who - , easily keep step together, have little . need of making any effort to be agreeahle to each other; but those of differing intellectual and physical organizations, of differing tastes and capabilities, ofteu have to work very hard and be very self-denying to live in even tolerable comfort with each other. There must be a great deal of give and take, a bountiful allowance of live and let live, or there will be little joy of companionship and a great deal of discomfort. It is hard for a tall man to walk with a short man as it is for a short man to walk with a tall man. The long, swinging step of the tall man is impossible to the shoi't man, and the short sten of theahnrt min is intolera bly tiresome to the tall man. The two will be most comfortable when each takes bis own gait and keeps it, and they are far enough apart not to annoy each other. rt is safe to lake it for granted always that if I find it hartl to live with my neighbor he finds it as hard to live with me. If we both learn to make concessions, to avoid causes of friction, to look from each other's view-points, to each put himself in the other's place, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, roots of bitterness will have no chance to grow. In most families there are to be found young, middle-aged, and elderly people, and there is always opportunity to avoid saying unpleasant Hiinnu tf\ 11 v/nd tlnititr vi/hut tniiaf crivA ott'ense, to avoid being disagreeable. In addition to the constant opportunity of exercising the negative quality of inoftensiveness there is no end of chances to say pleasant words, to perform acts of kindness, to exercite charity and toleration, while at the same time the utmost self-respect is preserved and no natural right is relinquished. By so much as love is stronger than hate, sunshine than darkness, heat than cold, by so much is the agreeable person stronger than the disagreeable one. One sinner destroyeth much good, but ten righteous men would have saved Sodom, Go- * morrali, Admah, and Zeboim. Learn to Forgive.?Learn to forgive. Do not carry an unforgiving spirit with you through all your life. It will hurt you more than any one else. It will destroy the happiness of many around you, yet its cnief feeding ground will bo found in your own hearf. You hate your neighbor. Yonder id his dwelling, one hundred and fifty yards away. You pass by a wood-fire, you pluck a half-consumed brand from it, naming and gleaming, and thrust it under your neighbor's dwelling to burn it. "Who gets the worst of it? You find your garments on fire and your own flesh burned before you can harm your neighbor. So is he who carries an unforgiving spirit in his bosom. It stings his own soul like an adder shut up there. I know of some who are calling themselves Christians, who are miserable because of their own revengefulne9S. Forgive your enemies, and get down on your knees and pray for them, and salvation will come into your soul like a flood. "Father, forgive them." Sweet prayer and a blessed example! Central Methodist. "Ve have observed this constantly in others, and some day, it may be, others are meant to see it in us. As man's life draws toward its sunset a chill mist often falls on what we call our happiness, through failing health, and vanishing duties, and friends departing, and the dull, opaque years with 110 pleasure in them. Then is the time to show that we can trust and endure, and hope and praise; that we love God, not only for what tie has "but what he is ; that we feel him to be kind not only when he [jives, but when he takes away. If ;ne nnai discipline 01 toe closing years in the school-time for paradise, it may llso be a working of the works of God in us, by the lessons it teaches to others who possibly could learn them in tio other way. They who stand by ind wait on us should be helped to discover, as no books or sermons could :eacb them, that the life hid with Christ in God, even when all active service is a thing of the past, has its essons of quiet heroism and ita reveation of the unchangine pity. There nay be much uselessness in the fussy lurryings of a restless, if well-mean- . r\ir nliil lanHirnnhv nntliincr ?o r>nn iinually or irresistibly glorifies God ind manifests his presence as the {uiet, and even joyful, suffering of his lelpless saints.?Sunday Magazine. It is stated by one of the biograjhers of Archbishop Usher, that on lis being once wrecked upon a very lesolate part of the coast, his imporunity for relief met with much untiudness ; his character and station >eing rudely questioned, even to the xpressionof a doubt if he knew the lumber of the commandments. "Inleed I do," replied the Archbishop, ninny : "tnere lire eleven/' Ji.ievn!" answered the catechist. Tell me he eleventh, and I will assist you." Obey the eleventh," said the Archishop, "and you certainly will assist ue?A neu> commandment I give uno you that ye love one another." I say you might as well send a man ut in the darkness to gather flowers n yon sunny hill-side as to ask poery of an age when faith and hope and harity are rudely thrust aside by the lard, mailed hand of doubt. Yea, he blind man may gather some few lowers as the night goes by, but he yill gather weeds and thistles and loisouous plants as well. We have athered some few sweet flowers of oug by the long, long road that eaches back to bumble Bethlehem* mt we have gathered weeds ; much, hat is wor.se than weeds. Joaquin Miller. "So we have left all to follow Thee." lore than that cau none do. It does lot affect the case that Peter's "all" ras but a few boats and nets ; had he teen as rich as Croesus he could have lone 110 more than lay his all before he feet of Christ. Mamma?What are you taking your loll'.s bed stead apart lor, pet? Dot?I'se looking for bugs.