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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. X. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 22, 1874. No. 29. THE -MERA LI IS PUBL*SEED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING, At Newberry C. I., BY THOS. F. GRENEKER, Editor and Proprietor. Terms, $2.50 per JAnuin Invariably in Advance. r- The pper is stoped at the expiration o time for which it is . 0 The X mark denotes expiration of sub. ieription. PRAYER AND PO.T &TOES. A SERMON BY RET. J. T. PETTEE. If a brother or sister be naked, and desti tute of'daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye wormed and filled; notswithstanding ye give them not those things w1ich are needful for the body; what dotr it profit?-James ii; 15, 16. An old-iady sat in her old arm-chair With wrinkled visage and disheveled hair, And hunger-worn features; For days and for weeks her onIy fare, As she sat there in her old arm-chair, Had been potatoes. But now they were gone; of bad or good Not one was left for the old lady's food Of those potatoes; And she sighed and said, "What shall I do? Where shall I send, and to whom shall I go For more potatoes?" And she thought of the deacon over the way, The deacon so ready to worship and pray, Whose cellar was full of potatoes, And she said: "I will send for the deacon to come; He'll not mind much to give me some Of such a stdre of potatoes." And the deacon came over as fast as he could, Thinking to do the old lady some grood, But never for once of potatoes; He asked her atonce what was her chief want. And she, simple soul, expecting a grant, Immediately answeied "Potatoes." But the deacon's religion didn't lie that way He was more accustomed to preach and to pray, Than to give of his hoarded potatoes: So, not hearing, of course, what the old lady said, He rose to pray, with uncovered head, But sse-only thought of potatoes. He prayed for patience, and wisdom, and grace, Bat when he prayed "Lord give her peace." She audibly sighed, "Give potatoes;" And at the end of each prayer which he said, He beard, or thought that he heard in its stead, The same request for potatoes. TFhe deacon was troubled; he knew not what to do Tn-as very embarrassing to have her act so About "these carnal potatoes," So, ending his prayer, he started for home; But, as the door closed behind him, he heard a deep groan, "0, give to the hungry potatoes!" And that groan followed him all the way homne; In the midst of the night it haunted his room "0, give to the hungry potatoes!" He could hear it no longer; arose and dressed; From his well-filled cellar taking in haste A bag of h is best notatoes. Again he went to the widow's lone hut; Her sleepless eyes she had not vet shut; But there she sat in that old arm-chair, With the same wan features, the same sad air, And entering in, he poured on the floor A bushel or more from his goodly store Of choicest potatoes. The widow's heart leaped up for joy; Her face was haggard and wan no more. "Now," said the deacon, '"shall we pray ?" "Yes," said the widow, "now yon may." And he kneeled him down on the sanded floor, Where he had poured his goodly store, Pnd such a prayer the deacon prayed As never before his lips essayed; No longer embarrassed, but free and full, Hie poured out the voice of a liberal soul, ,And the widow responded aloud "amen!" Bat said no more of potatoes. And would you, who hear this simple tale, Pray for- thme poor, and praying, "prevail," Then prefsee your prayers with alms and goo deeds. Besrch out the poor, their wants and their needs: Priv for peace, and grace, and spiritual food, For wiid~om, and guidance, for all these are good, But doi;'t forget the potatoes. Ruth EdwaPds and HerhoP F~ - BY MARY KYLE DALLAs. Gifford Hull, the grocer's son, standing behind tho counter of~ his father's stor-e, tying up sugar in pound parcels, saw a girl come into the store, brightly lighted al ready, though it wvas only half past five, for the winter afternoon had been da.rk and rainy, and go ing up to thae counter on which some loaves of bread were piled, look at them svith eye. that seemn ed already to devour them, and say to his father, "Have you any five-cent loaves, sir ?" The grocer answered promptly. "No, we haven't, and what's more, young woman, you'll find it hard to find one in New York to-night 1 reckon.' "How much are tese, sir?" ask ed the girl. "Reg'lar price," said the gro cer, "ten. cents." "Ha.ve you any stale loaves ?" asked the girl. "No," sai'1 the gr-ocer very short'ly. But his sonl, looking askrance at the girk who was as pretty and as fair and asg fragile as a white lily, who ought, he thought, have worn silk and vel vet instead of those rags, and have ridden in her carri:Ige instead of walking in those de sperately shab by shoes, saw her t,ake the end of a black ribbon that hang about her throat from her bosom, and uintie from it one of those sil ver five-cent piecee., so comm onk before "the war," tso uncommon --ow and hold it 6 mward his fat "Won't you please cut a loaf in two, and sell me half?" she plead ed. "Surely you'll do that. Some E one else will want the other piece, or you might use it yourself- - please do ?" "Not in the habit of doing busi ness in that way," said the gro- I cer." d The girl turned away. Gifford a saw starration in her eyes, de- I spair in all her movements, and 1 slipped his thumb and finger into t waisteoat pocket, and came from li behind the counter. s "Let's see the five-cent bit, Miss," 1: he said. "Why, bless you, you've made a mistake, it's a ten-ent a piece. I thought it was very v large for five-cents. Father, that's p the price of a loaf; you can't re- h fuse that." The girl looked at the piece of; e money with eyes that dilated with b something between joy and awe. r She muttered to herself. under her p breath, "It's a miracle ! it's a mira- n ele! Jack's five pence to turn to T ten pence. God put out his hand jU to keep me from starving." Gif ford followed the girl. and by his ti gentle, manly courtesy and sym pathy won her col ideIce. h "Let me help you a little," he w said. "I think voi con ret t work at Mrs. Trimmer's the milli- pl nCr's. Give her our card, and say lo we sent you. But you mut't go ti until to-morrow. Just around h here is a decent place-common, h( but decent-where they'll takelti you in. This will do it, and get hi you breakfast and dinner. Oh. st please take it!" "I never thought to be a beg- P gar," said the girl passionately.- h< "I never thought to come to that!" b; "Take it as a lan," said the si grocer. "Take it anyhow. You h: can't sleep here, let alone the rain b( all night." it. "If you'll let me pay it back if I pt live, I'll not say no again," said " the girl, "and thank you, thank 10 you, thank you. You'll never y< know how kind you seem to me, ki for you can never be a poor lone- tr ly girl.' h< "Mrs. Trimmer's is84- street, 1o and Biddy Ryan's is that tall m brick house there in the basement if, She takes hired girls to board.- re You'd better say you're a nurse- gi maid or a seamstress. That is a4 rue, you know. Any. one that au sews is a seamstress. Good-night." Then when she said good-night s n return he watched her, saw her ar admitted at tihe Irish woman's 'st oor, and went home rejoicing hat the pretty, slender, sweet Ii oung creature would not sleep g n the street that night. He took m i er on trust, sharp young city h radesman though he was, and be- m ieved in her purity and truth im- ar plicitly.p It was odd for the son of his B father, but Gifford was his mo- di ther all over, despite the penurious h maxims that the old man dinned in his ears,and despite the living ex-h ample always before him in his father's person, of' calculating sus- w picion. s So it was, that instead of mak ing up his mind next day that the h girl was an impostor and had o. spent his gift~ in liquor, Gifford si walked, in the afternoon, dressed Ih rather sprucely too, down- sI ~'reet, and looking in at Madame ti .iCmer's window, saw a face lhe n' ememb sred, set about with bright p raids of girown hair', bent over li little red-fea.hre hat; and see- h ng it turn towa -d him, walked ci traightin an pt bo gril -iadr aid. "Good-day," arnd th.2' --good. si ay" to Madame Trimmer. n "We've brought two of' our C's- h omers together, I see," he said.- I c Glad to know it." And just then Ilo is fingers, playing with the con ents of his vest pocket, touched hi he cash received ofone of the cus omers alluded to--the five-eent w piece he had so deftly hocus-po- bh ussed into ten cents. The girl looked at him in suir- tI prise. Madame looked at the girl more respectfully than before. Thbe ti story of the fire was true, then, o and this dress that the young wo- t man wore was given her' by a neighbor when she escaped in her t( night attire from the burning a dwelling. So she began upon the subject t of fires and Giff'ord Hull, who b ad the gift of representation g peculiar to good salesmen, talk- a ed also. He told no lies ; but when they parted, M1 a d a m e h Trimmer h a d somehow come a to the belief that the house e in which her new hand had re- o sided was a four-story brown stone; a that the dresses destroyed werie i velvet and satin, and the money y lost some thousands at least; and I, being a mean and contemptible .. person, was disposed to be very f amiable to Ruth Edwards, in con A little while after, Gifford (::ll d again at the store-and again nd again. At last he saw Rith ii neat attire, pretty with knots f cheap ribbon, trim with bright elts aud snowy euffs, and dainty aiters. And though she never )oked sweeter to him thai she id that nilit in her ragged dress, nd with her wet hair blown about or face, when lie first saw her, e saw now how proud any gen. lemali in might ho of her, ifshe were is wife, and won lered whiethewr he would not think him benoa:h er. ie did not ieasure his -orth by dollars, as his father did, nd the worthy grocer ha! betein ery economical in the matter of oorGifford's education. Now he ad fallen in love, he began to ish he knw more-didn't feel so )rse-could do or be somethin,7, atter. The idea Lhat he Confer id a favor on her because she was :or. and he was or would he rich, ever entered his honest miind. rue merit is always inodest, and at becase Gifford was so hanud >me and good and bright lie ought himself worth nothing. But ho went where ho could see ~r often, aind asked her to walk ith him of bright evenings, arid ok her now and then to see a 1 :. and carried her flowers, and oked sweet tlhing< before he said em and at last, one eveving told rI tiAt he loved her, and asked i r to be his wife. When lie did I at, slhc burst into tears, and told m by way of answer all her ory. Her betrothed lusband, Jjek 1 hrry, had left her threv e years fore ; he was a sailor, and lived i voyaging upon the sea; and e had waited and waited. but, lie Ld never come again. He might dead, but she could not believe "And, Gifford Hull," she said, tting her hand on his shoulder, vhile I believe he lives. I can ve no other man, i'm fond of, >u. You'd make ine happy, I :ow very well; but I must be ue to Jack, for I love hin and loves me as two people never ed before ; and I should hate yself. and, I believe, hate you, after I became your wife, he turned to me. Forgive me. if I ve you pain. I'm as fond of you a sister could be, bat-but you e not Jack." "No, I'm not Jack," said Gifford dly, "and I'll not trouble you y more, but just be your friend ill, if you'll let me." He kept his promise for a year. it changes came to pass. Thei I ocer died, and he was his own , aster. He was lonely, for lie Ld mo ot her relative, save tihe old an. The house seemed desolate, id he used to think how Ruth's -esnce there would brighten it. e saw her growing sweceter and arer to him every day, and so :spoke again : "Are you waiting for Jack,still?" Ssaid. She answered, "I am always aiting." And nothing more wvas .id. ie was lier- friend again as he d been, but he could not thmink c any other face by the fire de of his empty home, nor did aseek to place one there. Weeks ipped away arid months. A no icr eoar, then. As the Christ as time was coining on, and 1pe0 ' were trimnming up their dwel. gs with evergi eens and holly, a took her a great armful of agrant br-anchics for her little om, and meeting heri face to face, w a look in her eyes tl.at he had ver seen before. lie took her, nd io his and held it, and hier eek flushed. He bent his head wv and kissed lier- On the mouth. "A rcyou waiting for Jack still ?" askedt softly. She answercd: -I have waited a long, long hiile. I shall never forget Jack; it-but-" "But you'll rmemrber mec a lit e?" aid Gifford When they parted Gitford Hull ought himself the happiest man earth. for ltuth bad piomised a marr-y him on Christmas eve. The afternoon before, he went see her, and they spent a long d happy hour together. To-morrowv she would be his -morrow-to-morr-ow! IIe told er all his plans for thejir life te ether-all his hopes. At last he rose to go. His han d w as on the latch, an d he; ad kissed her, when therec came knok upon the door. ie open it. A man stood there, in sail c's dres~s, bronzed. brown with 'id and weather, who opened his ps to speak-stopped with the ordb upon his lips, and uttered a > ery. it was echoed by Ruth -Ruth, who tore her hand away rom Gifford, and screamed out: "It's Jack ! My God ! it's Jack me back to me I" -Jack !" Giffurd heard thit, and knew what it meant. His heart see:c%d to turn to a !tmp of stone. "Jack has come bie'< to her!" he repeated ; and then rcmember. ing the woman he loved more than hiiself. he spoke bravely, man. full v "Goodby, Rut ," he said. "Don't mind me. Fi glad you are happy. Forget that you ever g:aec Jack up, and-G d less Then he va Ione, !e ving thIe Christmas eve had conie. His mari,ag, iii-lit it was tO have been, :u.1 Gifford !v east down uipoi t : carpet belore tlie blazing grate-fire, with his head upon his bands. If he had been a woman, 4e could have sobbed and wailed. As it was, he only moaned. He was thinkitig. Just now the cler !vnian's3 servant was lighting the las in the parsonage parlor to be -eady for them, and the clergy rnan was waiting and his good old vife. Just now, but for Jack, he voild have tapped at her door, 11md she wo1ld have come out to ii in her -arl.colored silk and >retty white bonnet. and he would 1ave handed hci in'.o their Car -iage, and they would have driven ,4) the parsonage. and the words voIdh have been uttered, the iaet, sweet woirds of the mar -iage service, and those whom a had joined no mancould have >utasunder. Alas! Jack had come, )ronz/7ed, brigiht-eyed, handsome fak, and had parted them for veir. .And I wish I were dead !" said iford, hiding his face in his irms Lai,n. "0, I wish I were dead l" Just. then, just as lie said theso vords, the house door, that al ways reaked when it was opened, reaked woefully, and a step cross. d the ha1ll. and the flutter of a vomani's dress caie to his ears; Old Gi;fford lifted up his head, and aw that sonie one had come into he room. The daylight was gone, oid the fire just gave a little gleam f red light, and he could not see Vho it was, and called out, "Who s there." Then whoever it was came to vard hini and knolt down, and >ut her hand upon his h'ead. "Iith !"I he cried; "Oh, Ruth. chy do you come here ?" "Light the lamp." she said, and see why." HIe lit it. She stood before him ini her lainty wedding dress, in which, no lobt*, she was to be married to fack. It was veryv cruel-but he lid not tell tier so. iIe only said: "Why do you comae to me, since lack has come back to you ?" She liftedl her eves to his and mi led. "Jack did not seek me out.," she aid. "He rang at my door by hlance. IIe dreaded nothing more han mieeting~ me; for he is married o0 another woman, Gi fford-he, for vhom I waited so long, false heart hat he is !while a true heart vaiteid for me." "Married !" said Gifford. T hen i locked at her. "Married ! and 'I have conmc to yOU, Gifford," he said. "I have not even a mem ry now that is not yours. The uan I thought I loved never lived -only a myth that wore his like ess. And the knowledge has iven rme no pain, but only joy, if ~ou still love me, Gifford." "Then all the hope that had Jied in Gifford's heart blossomed ~nee more; and the lights were ot lit in the parsonage, nor did he clergyman's good wife cut her ake or decant her wine, fruitless OaDE.-Never leave things ly ng about-a shawl here, a pair of slippers there, and a bouinet some where else, trusting to a servant to set things to rights. No mat tr how many servants you have, it. is a miserable habit ; and if its source is not in the intellectual and moral character, it will inevi tably terminate there. If you have used the dipper, towel, tum bler, etc., put them back in their places, and you will know where to Gid them when you want them again. Or if you set an example of carelessneg. do not blame your servants for folowing it. Children should be taught to put things back in their places as soon as they are old enough to use them; and if each member of the family were to observe this simple rule, the house would never get much out of order, and a large amount of vexation and useless labor would be avoided. Contentment, which protects its votaries Irom baseness, is better than opulence, which exposes it,s nean to disdain. TilE SUN'S FIILY OF PLAN. ETS. Prof. Richard A. Protor in one of hi., lecttires on "Astronomy. g'ivesa description of Jupiter, Sat urn, and Mars. Mars. he saiJ was situated undier more favorable con ditions thain Venus or Mercury. Notes of t he rotation of the plan t wl'e taken in 1866, and it was thell founld by the PTech0) Istron onIIs, by whom they were made, that there .vere on it two spots, One 4of which it was thou"ht. g,rew gr:ad%ally small.7 Time went on, and it began to be noticed that the spots remained unchanged, and that they belonged to the surf'ace of the planet. A comparison was made between the planet and our earth, and next came the question, how far we could regard the white spots as snows. Then came the wonderful disclosures of the spec troscope, and it was discovered by Dr. H1tigins, of England, and that there was a vapor of water in Mars. These white spots were re:cogn1ized as polar snows. The white matter indicated the pres onco of clouds; then we knew there must be mountains, irregu larities of surface, rain fllls, air and water currents, wind, storm, nd rain, and everything corres pondin-g with what we find on our arth. This was the Brewsterian notion, and correspondent with our ideas as formed from what we >bserve on this globe. The surface of_Mars was between a third and fourth part of the Larth, and the volume about a seventh part, so that an enormous nuimber of living creatures might :xist there. The gravity was in the ratio of six to sixteen ; in oth er words, a pound weight on the arth would weigh sixteen pounds >n Mars. If we lived there we bhould feel more active, much ronger and much lighter ; in fact, l our powers would be increased. All the objects about us would be much lighter, and we should be able to mtranipulate them much bet ter tLan here. Mars was a small. r body than the earth, and the moon was a smaller body than Nars. If the gravity of our earth were ieduced to that of Mars, the ir would be imUmediately released nd its density would be immedi tely -eleased, and its destiny would be little more than two ifths of what it was pr-esent. he appearance pr1esented i>y the planet indicated the existenlce of inl immlfen)se amounIt of cold in it. Ee thought it was shown as clear y as possible tlat Mar-s wats in ended for the forms of life thajt we know of. It should be remnem ered that we recognized on our arth conditions under which life eased. Minute animalculx~ a ounded, and these creatures were carried tup by air currents. we also knew that life had passed away after a certain height was reahed. Coxwell and Glaisher went up in aballoon to an immense height and when they had reached seven miles, Glaisher whose pulse ad risen to 100, fainted. Coxwell went two miles highe r, and then be found he was losing strength and was unable to draw the valve, his only alternative being a pull the strings with his teeth. Then they descended, and their strength returned. Tite curious part of that story was that the pulse ofeither of them should have been at seven ty.four or seventy-six before they ascended. We all know that people lived at a gieat altitude. The inhabitants of Quito were 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, and yet we heat d that they danced the whole night through. Tfhat fact was e:nough to sho0w that they enjoyed good health. The lecturer' thlen pr-oceeded to deal withI the giant p)lantet Jupiter -"the Prince Of the Solar System" -as he termed it and observed tlat in connection with it, as with Mars, a veritiention was afforded of the truth of Goethe's remark, that "in hecr mfonstrosites nature reveals her secrets." Jupiter-, he said, was instinct with its inherent fires. Ordinarily i't had a light green color-ed zone, like Saturn, but sometimes it presented a ruddy ligt. The lighlt whlich it receiv ed from its satelites5 was only a sixteeth part of what we get from a full moorn. With regard to the theory that the planets are inlhab ited, it seemed to him that an in termediate thery, was the more likely, and that was that only a small proportion of planets were inhabited. Although one dismiss ed as unlikely the conclusion that any planet was inhabited, yet one must reach another one, namely, that there are millions of in habited worlds. God of granite and the rose, Soul of the sparrow and the bee, The mighty tide of being flows Through countlesq channels, Lord, to Thee. It leaps the1life in grass and flowers, Through every grade of being runs, Its glory ahine from prison towers, A d coma to ua frnm stars and suEls. RULES FOR SCHOLARS. The following excellent rules foi scholars we take from Northend'E Teacher's Assistant, a book whicb should be studied by every teacber. We hope that the boys and girk will live up to them faithfully. 11 they do, we wili warrant them a profitable school; and will also as sure them that they will be a tgreat deal happier than they will be riot to observe them: 1. On entering the school, pass a,s quietly to your seat as possible, taking care to shut the door gen. ty, and avoid making unnecessary noise with the feet in crossing the room. 2. Take out books, slate, etc., from your desk with care, and lay them down in such a manner as not to be heard. Avoid making a rustling noise with papers, or noisily turning over leaves of books. Never let the marking of a pencil on your slate be heard. 3. Be careful to keep the feet quiet while engaged in study; or, iif it be necessary to move them, do it as carefully as possible. 4. In passing to and from reei tations, observe whether you are movingquietly. Takespecial care if you wear thick boots or shoec, or if they are made of squeaking leather. 5. Avoid the awkward and an noying habit of making a noise with the lips while studying. 6. Scuffling, striking, pushing or rudeness, of any kind, should never be practiced at all within thp s2hool-building. 7. Let your shoes or boots be cleaned at the door steps, always use the mat, if wet, muddy or dir ty.. S. Never suffer the floor under your desk, or the aisles around to bo covered naith papers, or any thing else dropped on it. 9. Avoid spitting on the floor; it is a vulgar, filthy habit. 10. For cleaning your slate you should provide yourself with a piece of sponge, and should mois ten it with clean water before school opens, or at recess. 11. Marking ur writinug on the desk or walls. or any part ot the building or- school promises, with pencil, chalk, or other articles. manifests a bad taste or 4 vicious disposition to deface and destroy property. None but vicious, reck less, or thoughtless persons will do it. 12. Knives should never be used in cutting anything on a desk. 13. Particular care should be ob served to avoid spilling ink any where in the school building. 14. Let your books etc., be al ways arranged in nest and convyen jent order In yorur 4eslj r+nd upon it. 15. after using brooms, dust brushes, etc., always return them to their proper places. 16. Be ambitious and have every par-t of your school so neat and orderly in condition that visitors may be fororably impressed with this trait of your character. 17. Never meddle with thre desk or property of another scholar without -liber-ty. is. Boys should never wear hats or caps in the school room. 19. Always hein your own place, and busy about y-our studies. SEND THE BILL TO MY HUsBAND. -.-Realize, my reader, says a New York paper, the anguish of a lady compelled to stand by another lady wearing larger diamonds than hor own, or more point lace, or a longer train. What will the world think, as under the chandelier this painful con trast comes out. Such Imoments of deep humiliation cause sleepless nights, and the next day results in bills thrat become as criminal indictments to poor, over* worked men. Under- the impulse of~ such trying scenes as these, many a matron has gone forth on Broadway with firm lips and eyes in which glowed inexorable pur pose, and placed upon her ar-ms or fingers, that might have help ed her husband forward, the gems that would be millstones about his neck. There are many phases of hero .ismn, but if you want yourr breath taken away, go to a leading and fashionable store and see some large-souled woman, who will not even count the cost, or realize the dire consequences, but like some martyr of the past who will show to the world the object of his faith~ though the heavens fall, she marches to the counter, selects the costliest jewels, and says, in tones of majesty, "Send the bill to my husband !' A ToasT.-Woman: the last att best of the series--if we may have her for a toast, we won't ask any bnt-her. WAISiTED PAINT. Lui(y 1I. Hopper, writi:g to th, Philadelphia Press from Paris,says in describing an exbibition o paintings made by the "Anony mous Society of Painters a< Sculptors :" "There was one paint ing which showed a backgroun if very dim houses and trees, ii front of which two broad strips nC paie bul 'and the other dart .IN , !ha:ted wildly up1 intl) mid air. an.i the gray stripe was spot -ed with a number of particolor !i iittie -treaks, dabbed on at ir regular intervals. I wrestled vainl with my imagination in orde: 1) diisCver the sub.jeet of this pic Lare, but, failing in the attempt I had recourse to the catalogue and found that the artist had in tendeu to paint a view of the Bou !evard des Capuiines, the gra. stipe being the asphaltum pave ment,and the buff one the carriag( road, anid the parti-colored daub. being intended to represent th< promenaders on the sidewalk, Then thre was a dreadiul pietur( cailed 'Breakfast,' wiere a wooder mother and child were partakin,, of lilae beefsteaks and pink eggy it a table whose surftace was inclin ed at rn arilo offrty-ive dcgrees Swaws also the oor of the room so that it was a sheer miracle thal everything did not go slidina away into space at once ; while t woman apparently made of sheel iron, was leaning all of a piec against the window-sill, stiff and rigid as 4 woden image, and fial as a tea-tray. The landscapes however, were the most ludicrouw things, as they resembled nothinq in the heavens above nor the eartt beneath, and were alike gu.iltless of perspective or of natural color ing. Yet after my first impuls to laugh had passed, I looked around and a feeling of sadnesi crept er mC. What wasted hours, wbat false illusions, whal blighted hopes did not these daub ed canvasses represent! Men tha1 dreamed that they were painter4 had done these things, and seeinv them not as we see tbem, but witL Lhi !Ian-,our of thot inwara onn. vietions over theory, had sen them out to challenge the verdic1 of a critical world. And her< they were, represeriting the toi of weeks, the study may be o years, not worth the fitrst cost o canvass and the colors whereo wthey ere composed, too meritles: for criticism, too ludicrous even t( be fit for fire-boards or tea-trays. WHAT wE OWE TO POVERTY. Wealt,h owes to poverty an im mense debt. Society is immenselb and everlast,ingly indebted to th< poor wvho have done its work, thi long forgotten work on which il builds and lives. It is poverty tha felled the forests, and planted th< wilderness, and levelled the hills and made straight the paths it which we walk. Poverty handlec and trimmed and laid upon on< another every brick and stone by which this city has been built up stretched every telegraph wvire~ from Maine to California, twistet every stran<$ of the cable whiel binds the hremispheres in electric comnmunication. Directed by intelligence, it i~ true, but what were the brair without the hands ? Without pov erty, who would serve us and d( our work, build our railroads anc navigate our ships ; and procur< the products by which civilizatior subsists? Let not wealth come in and say, "It is my capital that har done all this !" True, my brother but whence the capital? Has! thou then spun it spider-like, ou of thine own bowels? Thatcapita is also the product of p)overty Thy capital is needed and mnouldet with the sweat of thy brother' face. His years, his weary years are in it ; it is carved outt of th) brother's life. For what is capita but concrete labor-the labor o the past condensed and made por table ? Poverty, not wealth, ha: done the work. He is the grea an'] patien t creditor of us all. Pov erty, hard-handed, coarse-clad, toil bowed, weather-se-arred, shut ou from the palaces, and temples o thine own rearing thou art ou: creditor. Who shall repay the thy long dues y What a reckonin; will that be when thou and wealtl shall "meet at comnpt!"-Dr.edge At a Teachers' Institute in Iows recently a lady teacher was givel the word hazardous to spell an define, and did it in this style "H-a-z baz, a-r-d, ard, hazard, double.s, ess, hazardness-a fe male hazard." Fall River, Mass., has only 90 retailers of spirituous drinks. What' in a name-everythins~ IN ANCIENT TIMES. lo the wardrobe of an Hebrei ,'.ady, the most splendid article 0 f clothing was turban, for thos( - who could afford it. The pooi people had to be satisfied witl winding a piece of cloth rounc their head and fixing it as wel as they could. The turban: were of various colors, and wourc in different ways; some of then: were like a high tower. Shoe, and stokings were unknown, b,,l soles ofla.-: hwr wer fasten;ed witl - two la:clle. 'rhe ladies, who car. ried luxi ryv n 1to every department :tand who aro supposed, even in the - present 'lay, to be far more indif , ferent to a nice, neat boot, or to elC. ,gant slippers, bad their shoes or rather- iandals, and their latchets made of colurod leather: dark blue, violet and purple were fa vorite color.s. The ankles were decorated with bracelets of gold and dainty silver chains and rings. with tiny silver bells. Hair-nets rnd heud bands w ere in great re. quest. The latter were made ol gold or silver, and wcrn under the net extending from one car to the other. V4r. 1ings were much thought of; we are tc';, of some that weighed a thousand and sev en hundred shekels of gold and were so large that a man could easily put his hand through them. Some of the women wore several ring; with little bells attached to them. They were generally made of horn or silver. But the most popular ring was the nos_-ing. The left nostril was pierced for the purpose, and a ring made o ivory or metal was put through it. Bracelets were favorite ornamentsi and were generally worn on the right arm. Some of them werc exceedingly large, so that they reached up to the e!bow. Rings on the fingers were worn ; chains of fine gold, or strings of pearls with little silver balls or small tinkling bells worn round the neck. It was Customary to attuch orna. neutsto these chains,either with nc meaning as the crosses which our ladies wear, or to serve as amulets small scent-bottles. ornaments ir the shape ot serpents, and littc gold or silver 'plates on whieli were writtea words supposed tc be possessed of mnag:cal power. BE NATURAL.--One of the fash lonable follies of the day is the af fection of coolness. It is consid cr-ed vulgar to be demonstrative You meet an old friend: it i, - a blessing to your eyes to behokc him o.:e-e more. Your beart leaps tip at de sight of him. Your ima pulse a to grasp him warmly by the hand. You feel almost likt embracing him in your joy. You must -do nothing of th< kind. No ripple must be permit. ted to ruffle the smooth equili. brium and indifference of your feel. ings Yo msgret him polite ly, btwithout emotion. So the failse etiquette of which we speak teaches. Self-possession is a strong qual. ity, but we do not believe in this kind of self-possession. And the people, who school themselves in this are not ant to have the othet and thbe better kind. They are not apt to manifest self-possession on such occasions as really call for it -occasions of ditficulty and dan ~ger, and of great trials. Toueb their self-love, make any unusua. demand upon them for self-denial and their assumed and superficia self-possession vanishes in an in stant. For ourselves, we like natural ness of manner. Seem as you feel Let the heart speak, or what i: the use of a heart. There arc crops that grow only on light soils, and the school o: philosophy-miscalled philosophy -of which we speak, must hav< Ioriginated in shallow brains. . LOVIso AND I.ArIN.-If yet love, love mor-e. If you hate, hat less. Life is too short to spent -in hating any one. Why wa: -against a mortal who is going th4 same road with us ? Why not ex fpand the flower of life and happi ness by learning to love, by teach ing those who are near and dear th< beautiful lesson ! Your bands may be hard, but yonr heart need no be. Your form may be bent o: ugly but do you not know tha the most 'beautiful flowers grow ir Sthe most rugged, unshelterei places ? The palace for care,the cot tage for love. Not that there is n< -love in a mansion ; but somehow -if we are not very careful, businesi will crowd all there is of beauty ou of the heart. This is why God ha given us the Sabbaths and Satur day nights, that we may leav Sbusiness and have a heart-cleam ADVERTISINC RATE$ Advertisements inserted at the raWe of $1.00 per square-one inch-for first insertion, and 75c. for each subsequent insertion. Double column advertisements ten per cent on above. Notices's.0meetings, obituaries and tributes of respect, same rates per square as ordinary advertisements. Special notices in local column 20 cents perline. Advertisements not marked with the num ber of insertions will be kept in till forbid and charged accordingly. Special contrmets made with large adver tisers, with liberal deducticns on stove rat( s. JO P"aW Done with Nea=ness and Dispi ch. Terms Cash. 1WHY SHOULD ANY t A N SWEAR. I can conceive of no reason why he should, but many why he should not: 1. It is mean ; a man of high moral standing would almost as lief steal sheep as swear. 2. It is vulgar; altogether too low for a dccent man. 3. It is coward!y, implying a fear of either not being b-elieved or obeyed. 4. It is ungentlemanly ; a gen tieman according to Webster, ic welbred, refined: such a one will no more swear than go into the strects and throw mud with a clod-hopper. 5. It is indecent, offensive to del icacy, and extremely unfit for ha man Cars. 6. It is foolish; a want of decency is a want of sense. 7. It is abusive ; to the mind which conceives the oath to the tongue which utters it, and the person to whom it is aimed. 8. It is venomous, showing a tmau's heart to be a nest of vipers, and every time he swears one of them sticks out his head. 9. It is contemptible; forfeiting the respect of all the wise and g,ood 10. It is wicked ; violating the divine law and provoking the pleasure of Him who will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain, SELF-MADE MEN.-We do not wonder that great men have been born mechanics; for those who have been brought up exclusively in dra'ring room~s, intelligence is a game, a recreation ; for those who have held the sword and the helm, w~ho have driven the plow or worked with thbe e bisel,intelligencebecomes a pa'tsion, a force, a beauty, a wor ship, and a love divine. It is from the stall, the shop, the work-room, that thie most powerful minds have issued. Moliere from the uphol sterer's, Burns from the farmer's, Shakspere from the hosier's shop, Rousseau from the a heelwright's -kan6 armaged in ast rIe with physical nature, they all took re fuge in the free domain of thought. Even an inferior mind would soon become tempered to strength in these mechanical apprenticeships; and1 if ever the spirit of reform which has seized on the world Ishould extend to the act of crea ting citizens, we doubt not that but good sense will gain a victory over custom, and that one of the most important parts of every cdu cation will be henceforth the due admixture of the development of the mind and its action on nature. A 3oUsE AND A FP.O.-A mouse in an evil day made acquaint ance with a frog, and they set off on their travels together. Tfhe frog, on pretense of gr eat affection, and of keeping his companion out of harm's way, tied the mouse's hind foot to his own hind leg, and thus they proceeded for some dis tance by land. Presently they came to some water, and the frog, bidding the mouse have good cour age, began to swim across. They scarcely. how'ever, arrived mid way, when the frog took a sudden plunge to the bottom, dragging the mouse after him. But the struggling and floundering of the mouse made so great a commotiou in the water that it attracted the attention of a kite, which pounc ing down bearing off the, mouse carried away the frog at the same time in his train. THE MoTHlER's IJUTY.-The mo ther must reflect that education, in its true sense is not a mere me chanical task; nor does it consist in a series of admonitions and cor rections, of rewards and punish ments, of impreations and diree tions, strung together without unity of purpose or dignity of ex ecution. The mother's great en dleavor must be to build up hu manity ; the passions, appetites, intellectual power, mental energy, come under her attention in this work. It is for her to strip the grosser husk from passion, and to develop the germ of enthusiasm, which lies concealed within it, to purposes of good ; not so much to repress the appetite, as to 6x i'ts impulses upon pure and whole A Boston Clergyman rela'les, as -his early experience, that he en gaged to preach for a society for $50 a year. Upon a settlement at the end of the year he found that the committee had an item of $240 charged to him for the use of the pulpit to practice-in it. One of Sthe deacons, however, by way of -sympathy for the pastor, present. ed hi~ with a pair ofboottop&