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Vol. VI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, IMAY 18, 1870. No. 20. THE HERALD! IS rrnDEICFD E;EIY W;EDYESDAY MORNING, At Newberry C. H., By Thos. F. & . H. Greneker, E:itors and Propric:ors. 1~In b- ini A dy.rce. rr T. p . l ye p d at the expiration of inei for wich it i ii. 7 -t nur; deaotes expiration of sub scription. IDLE HANDS. BT T. S. AT1HUR. Mr. 'hornton returned home at his usual midday hour, and as he passed by the parlor door, he saw his daughter, a young lady of nineteen, louniing on the sofa with a book in her hand. The whirr of his wife's sewing maluine struck on his car at the same mo ment. Without pausing at the parlor door, he kept on to the room from which came the sound of industry. Mrs. Thornton did not observe the entrance of her husband. She was bending close down over her work, and the noie of her ma chine was louder than his footsteps on the floor. Mr. Thornton stood looking at her for some time with out speaking. "Oh, dear exclaimed the tired woman, letting her foot rest upon the treadle, a n d straightening herself up. -this pain in my side is ahmost beyond endurance." "Then why do you sit killing yourself there ?" said MrI. Thorn ton. Mr. Tiiornton's a-;pect was un usually sober. "What's the matter? Why do you look so serious?" asked his wife. "IIas anythiag gone wrong?" Mrs. Thorntoin'seountenancegrew slightly troubled. Things had gone wrong in her husband's busi ness mire tn:ii once, and she had learned the occurrence of disaster. "ThLiings arec wv:ong all the time,"' lie replied. in some, impatience of Iianner. --In your business?" Mrs. Thorn ton spoke a !ittle faintly. ":N. thin;XU esp eially out the -I don' tun lerstanid you, IIar Won for y)u to sit, in pain n .iastion o.er that sewing Iline$ oVer a novel heprlr Thtswhat I wished to say. "It isn't. Eie's thalit. She often asks to help meb. Bat I emtit see the clil d put dm9 vn: to ho usehold d1ra:i'ery. Iier timie will come soon1 enough. Let her- have a lit tIe case and comfoirt whl she --If we said that of our- sons," replied .\ir. Thorn-tton, ":and acted on the word, what efficient men ther would make for life's trials and dties!"U "You are wrong in thIs thing aill wriong," con tInued tile h usband. "Andi if Effie is a right-minded~ girn sh will have more- ti-te en joymnZ ia then-sciousness that she is ligXteninig heir mother's bu dens than it is possible to obtain fr-om the finest novel wi-it ten. Excitement for- te imaination is no substitute for that deep peace of mind that ever accompanies and succeeds the right d ischargec of daily dutis. it is a poor comp)li ment to El-hls moral sense to sup pose that she c-an be content to sit with idle hands, oi- to employ them in light frivolities, while her motheri is worn down withI toil beyond heor strengthu. 11ester-, it must not be: . --And it shall not be !" said a quick. iirm voic-e. i. Thiorntton and hii s wife started, and turned to the speake r,i who had entei-ed the room unob served, and been a listeneir to near ly all the conver-sationm we have recordea. "It shall not be:"' And Effie came and stood by Mr. Thornton. Hecr face was erhuison; her- eyes flooded with tears, through which light was flashing; lier form driawn up crectly ; her- manr.er resolute. "-It isn't all my fault," she said, ais she laid her- hand on her fat her's arm. I've asked mother a great many times to let mec help her but The always puts mec off, and says its easier to do a thing herself' than to show anothei-. Mar-be I amn a little dull-but ever-y one has to learn. vou knowv. Mother didn't get heir hand in faiirly- with that sewing~ machine for tw or threo ' weeks; I am cer-tain it -ontf t:ske mve any longe-. I I could help her agreat deal. And indeed, father, I am willing." "Spoken in right spirit, Im; daughter," said Mr. Thornton, ap provingly. "Girls should be a usefully employed as boys, and ii the .very things most likely to b required of them when they be come women in the responsibl positions of wives and mother: Depend upon it, Effie, an idle girl hood is not the way to a cheerfu womanhood. Learn and do, non the things that will be required c you in after years, and you wil have an acquired facility. labi and skill will make easy wha might come hard, and be felt a very burdensome." "And you would have her aban don all self-improvement," saii Mrs. Thornton. "Give up music reading. society-" "There are," said Mr. Thornton as his wife pauscd for anothe word, "some fifteen or sixteci houis of each day, in which min< or hands should be rightly em plnyed. Now, let us see how Effi is spending these long and eve recurring periods of time. Comc my daughter sit down ; we hay this subject fairly before us. It i one of great importance to yoU and should be well considered How is it in regard to the employ ment of your time ? Take yester day, for instance. The records o the work of a day will help us ti get toward the result after whiel we are now searching." Effie sat down, and Mr. Thorn ton drew a chair in front of hi wife and daughter. 'ake yesterday, for instance, said the father, "how was it spent you rose at seven, I think ?" "Yes, sir; I came down just a the breakfLst bell was rang," re plied Effie. "And your mother was up a half past five I know, and com phoned of feeling so weak tha she could hardly dress hersell But, for all this, she was at worl until breakfast time. Now, if yol had risen at six, and shared you mothers work until seven, yoi would have taken an hour fron her day's burdens, and certainl' lost nothing from your music, self improvenmenc or social int^rcourse IHow was it after breakfast? HIov was the morning spent?" "I practiced :Ln hour on the pi ano after breakfast." "So fair so good. What then ? "I read the -Cavalier,' till elevel o'clock." Mr. Thornton shool is head, and asked: "After eleven, how was the tima spent ?" '4 dressed mvselfand went out. "A little after twelve o'clock." "An hour was spent in dress "Yes, sir." "Where did you go?" '4 called on IIelen Boyd, an< we took a walk down Broadway. "And came home just in tim for dinner ? I think I mect you a the door ?" "Yes, sir." "How was it after dinner?" "I slept from three until five and then took a bath and dresse< mysclf. From six until tea-tim< I sat at the parlow window," "And tea?" "KRead the 'Cavalier' until I wen to bed." "A t what hour ?" "El:even o'clock." "Now, we can make up tho ac count," saa Mr. Thornton. "Yo1 rose at seven and retired at elev en-sixteen hours. And fron your own account of the day, bu : single hour was spent in any thing useful-that was the hou: t the piano. Now your mothe: was up at half past fire, and wen1 to bed from her sheer inability t< sit at he. work any longer, at hal past nine. Sixteen hours for hei lso. IIowv much reading~ did yom o in that time ?" And Mr. Thornton looked athis wife. "Don't talk to mc of reading 've no time tc read !" Mrs. Thorn on answered a little impatiently Ihe contrast of her daughter': de hours with her own life o xhausting toil, did not afict hea nind very pleasantly. "And yet," said Mr. Thornton , and I can remember when no day went by without an hour or two passed with your books. Did you - lie down after dinner?" 3 "Of course not." if "And didn't you take a pleasant walk down Broadway? Nor sit - at the parlor window with Effie? .,How about that ?" There was no reply. - "Now the case is a very plain 1 one," continued Mr. Thornton. "In fact, nothing could be plainer. f You spend from fourteen to sixteen I hours in hard work, while -Effie, t taking yesterday as a sample, t spends about the same time 11 3 what is a little better than idle ness. Suppose a new adjustment - were to take place, and Effie, were I to be usefully employed in helping you eight hours of each day, she would still have eight hours left for self-improvement and recrea r tion ; and you, relieved from your p r e s e n t overtasked condition, i might get back a portion of your - health and spirits, of which these two heavy household duties have e robbed you." "Father," said Effie, speaking through her tears that were fall 3 ing over her face, "I never saw things in this light. Why haven't you talked to me before ? I've of - ten felt as if I'd like to help her; - she says, that 'You can't do it,' f 'I'd rather do it myself.' Indeed >it isn't all my fault !" i "It may not have been in the past, Effie, replied Mr. Thornton. - "But it certainly will be in the fu 3 ture, unless there is a new arrange meut of things. It is a false social ' sentiment that lets daughters be come idlers, while mothers, fathers, and sons take up the daily burden 3 of work and bear it through all the business hours." Mrs. Thornton did not come gracefully into the new order of things proposed by her husband and accepted by Effie. False pride in her daughter, that future lady ideal, and an inclination to do her 1 self, than take the trouble to teach r another, were all so many impedi ments. But Effie and her father were both earnest, and it was not long before the overtasked mother's weary face began to lose its look of weariness, and her languid' frame to come up to an erect bear ing. She could find time for the - old pleasure in books, now and then for a healthy walk in the 'streets, and a call on some valued ifriend. :And was Effie the worst for this change? Did the burden she was Ssharing with her mother depress her shoulders, and the lightness 'from her step? Not so. The languor engendered by sickness -which had began to show itself, disappeared in a few weeks ; the colorcame warmer into hercheeks; her eyes gained in brightness. IShe was growing in fact more 'beautiful, for her mind cheerfully Sconscious of duty was moulding Severy lineament of her countenance into a new expression. Did self.improvement step ? 0, no ! From one to two hours were ,given to close practice at the pi Iano every day. Her mind, be coming vigorous in tone, instead of enervated by idleness, chose a better order of reading than had been indulged before, and she was growing towards a thoughtful, cultivated, intelligent womanhood. She also found time, amid her home duties, for an hour twice a Iweek with a German teacher; and. - she began, also, to cultivate a nat ural taste for drawing. Now that she was employing her hours use - fully, it seemed wonderful how much time she found at her dispo -sal for useful work. Dry white woolen stocking on shingles cut tho dght shape and size. Each membeg of the family. should have a pair. or more of these stocking boards. Pin the hose over the upper edges and hang on the line by strings to dry.1 They cannot shrink and need no ironing. Passengers from San Francisco on Thursday, the 28th ult., at 8 a. in., arrived in New York city at 7 o'cock,.on the morning on the 5th,. in six days and twenty-three. hours, the quickest time yet made A SENTIMENTAL STORY. SIMON SHORT'S SON NAMUEL. Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. Seventeen summers, speed ing storms, spreading sunshine, successively saw Simon's small shabby shop still standing staunch; saw Simon's seif-same squeaking sign still swinging, silently speci fying: "Simon Short, Smithfield's sole surviving shoemaker. Shoes sewed, soled superfincly." Simon's spry, sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sowed skirts, stitched sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon's six stout, sturdy sons-Seth, Samuel, Ste phen, Saul, Silas, Shadrach-sold sundries, Sober Seth sold sugar, starch, spices ; simple Sum sold saddles, stirrups, screws; saga cious Stephen sold silks, satins, shawls ; skeptical Saul silver sal .vers ; selfish Shadrach sold salves, shoestrings, soap, saws, skates; slack Silas sold Sally Short's stuff ed sofas. Some seven summers since Si mon's son Samuel saw Sophia So fronia Spriggs somewhere. Sweet, sensible, smart Sofronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed strange symp toms. Sam sighed sorrowfully, sought Sophia Sofronia's society, sung several serenades slyly. Si mon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam so silly, singing such shame ful, senseless songs. "Strange ! Sam should slight such splendid sales ! Struting spenthrift ! shat tered-brained simpleton !" "Softly, softly, sire," said Sally, "Sam's smitten; Sam's spied some sweetheart." "Sentimental schoolboy !" snarl ed Simon. "Smitten ! stop such stuff." Si mon sent Sally,s snuff-box spin ning, seized Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacle-, seat tered several spools. "Sneaking scoundrel! Sam's shocking silli ness surcease." Scowling Simon stopped speaking, startin- swiftly shopward. Sally sighed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet sympathy. "Sam," said she, "Sire seems singularly snappy so sonny, stop stroling streets, stop smoking, spending specie su perfluously, stop sprucing so, stop singing serenades, stop short; sell saddles, sell saddles sensible ; see Sophia Sofronia Spriggs soon; she's sprightly, she's stable, so solicit, sue, secure Sophia Sofr-oniaSprigg's speedily, Sam." "So soon ? so soon ?" said Sam, standing stock still. "So soon, surely," said Sally, smilingly; specially since sire shows such spirits." So Sam, somewhat scared, saun terecd slowly, shaking stupendlous ly. Sami soloquises: "Sophia So fronia, Spriggs, Spriggs-Short Sophia Sofronia Short-Samuel Short's spouse-sounds splendid! Suppose she should say-She ! shan't-she shan't !" Soon Sam spied Sophia star-ch ing shirts, smnging softly. Seeing Sam, she stop)ped starching, salai ting Sam smilingly. Sam stamn mered shockingly. '-SpI-spl-splendid summer sea son, Sophia." Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia. "Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam. (Silence, seventeen seconds.) "Selling saddles still, Sam ?" "Sar-sartin," said Sam starting suddenly. "Season's somewhat sudor-iflc," said Sam, stealthily, staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly. "Sartin, smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbert." (Si lence sixty seconds.) "Sire shot sixty snipes, Satur day," said Sophia. Sixty ? shoo !" said Sam. (Si lence seventy-seven seconds.) "See sister Susan's sunflower-s," said Sophia, socially silencing such stiff silence. Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely ; so Sam suddenly spoke sentimen tally : "Sophia, Susan's sunflowers seem saying 'Se,muel Short, Sophia So fronia Sprvggs, serollI serenely. seek some sequestered spot, some syvan shad.e. Sparkling spri.ngs shall sing soul-stirring strains ; swet-songsters shall silence se slhail,"--Sophia snickered ; so Sam stopped. "Sophia." said Sam, solemnly. "Sam. said Sophia. "S phIa, top htmiling. Sam Short's sincere. San's seeking somic sweet spouse, Sophia.' Sophia stood silent. "S)cak, Sophia, speak ! Such SisspenSC speculates sorrow." "Seek sire. Sam, seek sire." So Sam sought Sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said "Sartin." A North Carolina "Straight Drink." Sonme years since, when they were buildin' the locks on Coal River, I was over thar at Peyton's an' I stopt in at Dr. Kellunm's who ahyecd people in that quarter at t'ant timle. Taar was a famine just then, and great sufferin' among men, wonenl and children for want of the necessaries of life. LeI:stwisc it was about the samc thing. Thar was plenty of mewa, an' abundance of corn, and no stercity of chicken ; but the rive's were dry,i ai' whiskey run enti-ely short. Some prudent peo,lc had laidl in sufficient stock, butimost had not. How to bring upa family 'theut read eye was a pu;zler, and the suffering was encrmons. )r. Kelium was inl trouble, too. H< sympathized with his neigh bo's: but he had a half barrel of n iety-fi 'e pCor cent. alcohoi in hi. ofiice, and as he was consarned !: managed to fix up with sugar a;' watar. an' ether, an' sich tnck, until he made a putty fair dink. Seein' I was a friend of hs, he invited mc to sample it. V ll, it kinder filled the room wih the smell, and just then a m;n from the Mud river country c:me in, on his way to Raleigh zote house. iIe smelt the smell, am' says, "I've been nigh two reeks from honme, an' I'm almost tar;cd." '0," says Keilum, pintin' to the <ask, "that's it. Help yourself." Tho chap brightened up, an' be 1rawed a level tumbler"ful of that :cohol, an' afore you could say 'scat, you beast !" down it went. Kellum. he turned pale. Says the man : "I'm much o 1:eeged to you. That's sarch h' !" an' he turned and walked <ut. Kellum set as if' he'd bin shot, m' then jumped up. "That won't do," says he, that's mioughi to pizenm a crowd. i'll all him back ai' give him an em (tie." We both went to the door. IIe v'asnt in sight. I run up the kick, an' Kellum lie run up thie r>ad :but it wasn't of' no use. "I should'nt wonder," says Kel ham, "'ef thant chap hasn't gone an' died somewhar by himself Thar'll Le a corpse f'ound directly, ani a liawner's inkwitch, and lots of troauble." Well, we sot thma' for about an h>ur,. talkini' 'hout the poor cuss's melancholy fate, when all to wonst in walks the chap lhisself, as piei't as a will eat. "D)octor," says he "I'm gwine a long way up the river, an' liquor's skeerece, an' if it's all the same to you, could you spar' me another tumblerful ? It's the most satisfy n'est Jiquor I ever drunk." Steam Plows in Louisiana. We learn by a Ne w Or'leans pa pr', that 31r. Effingham Law rnce, the owner of 31agnolia Su gar Plan tation. bas written a letter in answer to inquiries with regard to his experience in using the Fowler Steam P!ough, stating that he has had one set of fourteen hrse power, in use for two years past-"plou ghiin g whlen breaking up with the mould board plough, to a depth from fifteen to twenty inches, and when using the sab siler, cultivating bet ween the cane rows, runn ing to adepth of from twenty to twenty-four inches." The first forty acres broken up.by stam in the spring of 1868, plant ed in corn and peas, and in sugar cane the fall of the samneyear,ga;e a ieid of over t00,000-lbs. of dry sugar. being over 2,500 lbs. or 24 other steam ploughed lands plant ed the following year," the yield was nearly as satisfactory, not withstanding a very unp.rapiti,us season, while other fields, "where the stand of cane was equally as good as that on the steam ploughed land, but cultivated with the old fashioned horse and mule power, and received much more labor; and attention than the crops on the steam ploughed lands, did not produce more than 1200 to 1500 1 lbs. to the acre. Mr. L. thinks he is justified in the conclusion that steam-plough ing saves half the labor and pro- < duces a return fifty per cent. bet- i ter than any other system of cul tivation, and that its introduction on the rich lands of the Mississip- 1 pi Valley, and the vast prairies of the West and Texas, will afford the best solution of the puzzling f labor question, and greatly in- I crease the crops produced. [Country Gentlerau. Forgery-Head Clerk Treas ury Department in Limbo. The Columbia Phonix says that one of the most cunningly de vised, villiauous and daring schemes of rascality was recently disclosed in Columbia. W. W. Sampson, head clerk of the Stato Treasury Department, and one Captain Metcalf, late of the Uni ted States army, and who figured extensively in South Carolina at' the close of the war as commaad ant of the Post at Abbeville, Beau fort, and other parts of the State, are the guilty parties, so far as discovered. The facts of the ease, as we learn them, are as follows: The State, in 1859, issued bonds payable in five years, to the a-' mount of $310,000, in aid of the Blue Ridge Railroad. The bonds were taken by the Blue Ridge Railroad Company at par, to be used by them in the construction of their road. A number of these bonds, which had not been used, were stolen by a raiding party of Federal soldiers, which passed through Pendleton, S. C., about the close of the war. in 1866, two years after said bonds became - due, the Legislature passed an act authorizing the funding of past due bonds and tha coupons thereon. Under this act it was ascertained, in 1867, by the present President of the Blue Ridge Railroad, Gen. J. W. Harrison, that the identical bonds stolen in Pendleton had been funded, having prob-ably been sold to sonme innocent parties at the North ; but a large amount I of the coupons were not presented to be funded. Iz.ving free access to the books, Samnpson was ena bled to find ont precisely what coupons were missing ; and, pro- I eeeding upon this knowledge, he and Metcalf concocted a sweet little plan of appropri:ating some $42,000 ; and if successful, there is no telling to) what extent they may have carried their thievish propensities. Sampson, as clerk of the Treas ury, sends on a genui ne coupon to 'I where Metcalf now Jives, and or ders fac s-'nles struck off, to the amount of $42.000. The genuine~ coupon being merely stereotyped was easily counterfeited ; but the I printing house in Auburn suspect ing something to be amiss, repor- I ted the matter to the detectives in New York eity, and they to,t Constable Hubbard here. Plansc for their detection were at once set on foot, letters were intercep ted, a large batch of the forged couponis seiz.ed while in transitiu between Sampson and Metcalf, I and yesterday, having obtained such unquestionable evidence of1 the guilt of the parties, Hubbard arrested Sampson heres and at the same time Metcalf was arrested in Auburn. Sampson is now in jail, and bail to the amount of $25,000 being required for his re lease, will probably remain there till the time of trial. WYe have it from good auth.ority that the inti m-ations are that more persons in and about the capital than W. W. Sampson are implicated in bhis crime. "God save the State !" The best eure for dirt-the w;-2 te- ce. t Very Sad. TORtY OF A ooyEtNESS IN ENGLAND. A correspondent of the London relegraph vouches for the follow ing as a true story : "A few days ago I stood by the ide of a dying girl, her age was, seventeen, and this is her history: The was the youngest child in a arge family. IHer mother was :he widow of a clerk in a city >ank, who died suddenly, leaving As wife and children destiute. [ier sisters went out as gov ;rnesses; she remained at home tntil increasing want rendered it lecessary for her, too, to ~make icr own living. She fo:ind em )loyment as a daily governess 3he walked each day four miles to tnd from her work, and received a ew shillings a week. All day ong she toiled, getting no rood antil she reached home in the avcning. Who does not remember .he hot Summer of last year? rhrough the glare of that cloud. ess season this poor child starved )n. The sun withered up flower ud shrub and a)so withered the >rain of the daily governess. "Day by day her strength melt ,d away; at last she broke down. The could go no noi-e to the daily esson ; it was too ate now to -ive her food, kindly smiles, or nore wages. 11er cry from morn o r.ight, as she rocked to and 'ro, prsssing her hands on her )urning forehead, was, 'Mother, nother, my brain is gone.' One lay she was found with one hand opying verses from the Bible, Lnd with the other had g-wshed ierself with a knife. It was then first heard of the case. I ad -ised her mother to send her to :be hospital for the insane. My xdvice was taken. I often went to nquire after her. I found the >lace full of sovernesses. and.all he kindness could do seemed to )e done for them. She soon bt ame a raving lunatic. "One day I took two of her sisters o see Ler. It was their first visit ,o the hospital, and they brought ome flowers to give the patient. Chey were just in time to see her lie. In her cell, with an angel mile on her young face, lay the ittle governess. She had fought he fight of life to its bitter end, Lnd all was over now ; and with a ook as though she blessed the vorld which killed her, her young spirit passed away to God. "There was a post mortem ex nination. Congestion of the brain xas the cause of her death-hard wvork, they said, the cause of the :ongestion. A little food, a little rind thoughtfulness on the part of .hose who employed her might iave saved her life and the broken ieart of her widowed mother. The birds were singinig gayly. ,he sun was shiining brightly, as .hey laid her by her father's side u a quiet country grave. There yere few mourners, but some poor blildren and an old cripple, wh.m he taught and to whomn she read he Bible on Sundays-her only iolidays-eamc some miles to see he last of the little teacher. ~Sir-, in telling this story, I do lot cast blanme on any one, but I hope those who read it, if they :mploy governesses, will rememn >er that human ereatuires are not nere machuincs; and if they see hem fagged and worn, will think >f the story of this poor child, those soul now rests in a kindlcer vorld than this." A correspondent of the Country sentlemnan says that tomatoes vant water almost as much as lucks, but as the vine is hardy ,nd will stand almost any amount if heat and drought, few supply he water it demands. In ord,e? to nake wointoes ripen quickly, they hould be watered at least once a laThe evening is the best time Mrs. Woodhuli never would iave announced herself as a can lidate for Fresident, had she snowa it, was a virtual acknow dgement that she was forty-five ra.rs old. But "that card is bard d," and she can't take it back now. he is entered for the race, bestI AD9itRTLSINC RATES. Advertisements inserted st the rate of $1 S1 Rer sguare-one inch-fdr first inma, ard :1 for each subsequent insation. Saahti colama advertisemenis ten per cent oriebovu. ties of rntitgs, obituaries and trlbtutes 9 respect, sag ras per square as 1M , advertiseMents. Special notices in local column 20 een:as per line. Ad.ertisements not marked with the ama tpr of insertions will be kept ii tilt btLid ang chargel acordingly. Special contracts rtade with nrM* after tisers, with liberst dctions oa abpverarc 'Qa Prxr Dne with Ne3tgess and Di.pate. Terms Cash. Domestic Economy. E.st-avagant parents must eo. peet to have extravagant childrrn; and when masters and mistresses do not economize, they catt se,ee ly expect the servants to do so. There is a vast difference be tween economy and stinginess. Tbn former is laudable-the latter d. spicable. Prudent persons, wbo study their expenses closely, are likely to set aside teo-tweliet h* of their yearly incomne for con tingencies ; six-twentieths for household expenses; three-twen: tieths for servants and nsa ments; four-twentieths for e4uc tion of children, personal expense. etc.; and- four-twentieths for rent, wear and tear of furniture, ir.' surance, etc. For e. ample, Qup. pose your income to be $I,6O year, you expend $600 for food,. $300 on servanpts, etc., $400 fur rent, while there remains $300 for a,n accumulating fund. Ifyour ini come is fluctuating, be sure and set aside six-twentieths of it for reserve fund, and divide the rext of the income as above. There is a great deal in management. Soame house-keepers will make $3,000 go farther than others will $4,00. The habit of spending money needlessly, in the gratifcstion of a host of imaginary wants, is oae les to which our young men and wu. men are too apt to fall. The fu#y of this, they can see and acknowl edge, and yet they have not the resolution to. pursue a differen> course. We call upon all our read ers who are not blessed wktit @Lber dant means, to ponder npon these things-to abstain from present expen.ditges. and lay up a stated amount of their jnoo.e every i-car. There is many a man who keel a himself poor, by indulging in tl.g following trifling eggens.es a 'Ima mnaeadt at ten cents-$73 per yeait. Three cigars a dhy, at ten eentat each-$IO9 50 ! Making nearly $20% worse than, thrown away, sineeo ma?t h'ese and the nicotine stupefy the brain. That $200 would pay the pr ,. mium upoa a life itasatranee for the benefit of wife and children, or it would save, perhaps, an overba,. dened mother form needless toil in her old age. It is pitiful to think. of the tens and hundreds of thoe. sands of doth:.rs which a.re yearly consut3,ed in. smoke and,~ i o.ors which debase ari brutify man, "who was made a little lower thana the angels." Well might Jeresiuak say -"God made man upright, but lhe bath sought out many in ventions."-Hearth and Home. DISCOVERY IN CUDUsr.-Nr. Theophile Ig.dislas Scweskofski, one of the. eleverest pupils of] ron Liebig, haR just made an. as-. tonding discovery in chemisty viz: the silicious and aunoas ethers. It is but necceessary to pour into, a champagne glass a certain quantity of these two ethers to produce almost i.nstsa, tancously the most sptif.ci.cut stones; combined with v-ery pure oxide of iron the alumiaous ether produces ruby ; with sulphate of copper, the sapphire ; wit b salts ot manganes, the amethyst; wici dof nickel, the emerald. With salts of chrome the silicious ether produces the different coloratioto, :f the topaz. These oth~ers evag rate with a penetrative perfumis whiehseveralpersons have declaredl to be very agreeable. The salta :-rystalize very regularly as sood~ is the liquid part has gone. The ::orindons obtained through thi mieans are not ganite as hard as the natural one; g ht 4' the operatipa is edrefully done the brilliancy i-a admisable, The silica and the alumina which constitute t h o earths and clays are priuc.ples easily found in the different parts :>f the globe ; and the preparationa of the new etbers, though delicates, ::osta. very little. This diseovery will bring forth a revolution not ynly in the jewelry, but in moa.& af our industrial arts. DzumouMs or Sntsme.-A Sti. Louis paper, speaking of a family .n New York that made a fortuno mut of whiskey, says they live on Eventy-third street, inpef fe!iriur. trenien Qf spendor.