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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 HERALC 13 PUBLIS13ED EVERY WEDNESDAY MOBSXING, It Newberry C. 11-P ZY TH090 F. GNDKEIRt Editor au;l Proprietor. Terms, $2.50 per 41n1Hlli Invariablyv in Advauce. The paper is stopped at the expirationi ol tiefrwicb it is paid. T-7 The >4 mark deiiotes expiratiOn Of SuO ,Cfl0M, PRATER AND POT &TOES. -,j SkMMUST MM E J. T. PETTEB. I0kbrthr-or sister be .naked, and desti tati- -ofd&W-bod. and one of you SaY unto tbesi, Deatin peace, be ye warmed and fildotwi isdinlg ye give them not tho4~aw hC are neWdful for the body; what doth It proflt?-James ii; 15, 16. - An old laWsitliu her old arm-chair Witb wriakled viiap. and disbeveled hair, And kunger-worn features; Yor d4yzAad far wee~ks her on ly fare, A"bhasa ther in her old arm-6hair, Had been potatoea. Bu: zuow they were gone; of bad or good. Not one was left for the old lady's food Of tbose potatoes; And she_ s!gWe sod said, "What shall I do? Where shall I qend. and to whom shall I go For more potatoes?" And she ihought of the deacon over the way, The descou.so rea dy to worship and pray, Whoie-cellar was full of potatoes, And she"said: "I will send for the deacon to come; Hell not mind much to give rae some Of such a store of potatoes." A-%& e deacon came over as fast as he Thinkin' to do the old lady some gqod, But never for once of potatoes; Measked her at once what was 4~er chief want. And ab, simple sc al, expectiag a grant, Immediately answered "Potatoei." Buzt the deacon's reli.,iqn didn't I ie that way H6 *as-zide accutomed to preach and zo pray.* Than fo rive of his hoarded potatoes: "'Wont you please cut a loaf in two, an1d sell me'half?" she plead ed. "Surely you'll -do that. Some one else will wunt 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 eer." The girl turned away. Gifford saw starvation in her eyes, de spair in all her rovements, and slipped his thumb and finger into waistcoat pocket, and caie from behind the counter. "Let's see the f ve-cent bit, Miss," he said. "Why, bless you, you've made a mistake, it's a ten-centi piece. I thought it was very lai:ge for five-cents. Father, that's the price of a loaf; you can't re fuse that." The girl looked at the piece of money with eyes that dilated with something between joy and awe. She muttered to lierself, under her breath, "It's a miracle ! it's a mira cle! Jack's five pence to turn to ten pence. God put out his hand to keep mne from starving." Gif ford followedthe girl. and by his gentle, manly courtesy and sym pathy won her confidence. "Let me help you a little," hel said. "1 think you can(o get work at Mrs. Trimmer's the milli ner's. Give her our card, and say we sent you. But you mustn't go I until to-morrow. Just around I here is a decent place-common, I but decent-where they'll take II you in. This will do it, and get I you breakfast and dinner. Oh. please take it!" "I never thought to be a beg- ] gar," said the girl passionately.- I "I never thought to come to that!" I "Take it as a loan," said the E grocer. "Take it anyhow. You I ean't*sleep here, let alone the rain I all night." "If you'll let me pay it back if I I live, I'll not say no again," said the girl, "and thank you, thank I you, thank you. You'll never know how kind you seem to me, I for you can never be a poor lone- t ly girl." "Mrs-. Trimmer's is 84--street, I and Biddy Ryan's is that tall brick house there in the basement i She- takes hired girls to board. You'd better say you're a nurse maid or a seamstress. Thbat is true, you know. Any one that sews is a seamstress. Good-night." Then when she said good-night in return he watched her, saw her admitted at the Irish woman's door, and wvent home rejoicing t hat the pretty, -slender, sweet ] young er-eature would not sleep in the street that night. He took her on trust, sharp young city tradesman though he was, and be lieved in her purity and truth im plicitly. . It was odd for tbe son of his father, but Giff'ordJ was hris mo ther all over, despite the penurious maxims that the old man dinned in his ears,and despite the living ex ample always beforo him in his father's person, of calculating sus pcion. So it was, that instead of mnk ing up his mind next day that the girl was an impostor and had< spent his gift in liquor-, Gifford walked, in the afternoon. dressed rather sprucely too, down-a street, and looking in at Madame Trimmer's window, saw a farce he remembered, set about with bright braids of brown hair, bent overi a little red-feathered hat; and see ing it turn toward him, walked straight in and up to the girl, and said. "Good-day," and then ":good. day" to Madame Trimmer. "We've brought two of our cus tomers together, I1 see," he said. "Glad to know it." And just then his firgers. playing with the con-| tents of his vest pocket, tou che~d the cash received ofone of the cus tomers alluded to-the five-cent piece he had so deftly hoeus-po ussed into ten cents. The girl looked at him in sur prise. Madame looked at the girl more respectfully than before. T he story of the fire was true, then, and this dress that the young wo man wore was given her by a neighbor when she escaped in her night attii-e from the burning dwelling. So she began upon the subject of fires and Gifford Hull, who had the gift of representation peculiar to good salesmen, talk ed also. He told no lies ; but when they parted, M ad a me Trimmer h a d somehow come to the belief that the house in which her new hand had re sided was a four-story brown stone; that the dresses destroyed were velvet and satin, and the money lost some thousands at least; and being a mean and contemptible person, was disposed to be very amiable to Ruth Edwards, in con seqnence. A little while after, Gifford cnl1 ed again at the store-and again and again. At last he saw Rith in neat attire, pretty with knots of cheap ribbon, trim with bright belts aud snowy cuffs, and dainty gaiters. And though she never looked sweeter to him than she did that night in her ragged dress, and with her wet hair blown about her face, when he first saw her, he saw now how proud any gen tleman might be of her, if'she were his wife, and wondered whether she would not think him heneah1 her. Ile did not ieasure his worth by dollars, as his flit her did, and the worthy grocer h:ald beenl very economical in the matter of poor Gifford's education. Now he had fallen in love, he began to wish he kn )w more-didn't feel so oarse-could do or be something better. The idea that he confer red a favor on her because she was p)oor, and be was or would be rich, [ever entered his honest, mind. frue merit is always io.dest, and ust because Gifford was so hand ome and good and bright he Lought himself.worth nothing. But he went where he could see ier often, and asked her to walk ,vith him of bright evenings, and ook her now and then to see a >av, and carried her flowers; and oOked sweet things bef'ore he said hem ; and at last, one evering told er that he loved her, and.asked er to be his wife. When he did hat, she burst into tears, and told im by way of.answer all her tory. Hsr betrothed husband, Jack ?erry, had left her three years )efore ; he was a sailor, and lived )y voyaging upon the sea; and ;he had waited and waited, but he id never come again. He might e dead, but she could not believe t. "And, Gifford Hull," she said, )utting her hand on his shoulder, 'while I believe he lives, I can ove no other man, i'm fond of rou. You'd make ine happy, I cnow very well; but I must be rue to Jack, for I love him anri e loves me as two people r e oved before ; and I should nyself, and, I believe, hate f, after I became your wife, -eturned to me. Forgive me. it ive you pain. i'm as fond of you Sa sister could be, but-but you ~re not Jack." "No I'm not Jack," said Gifford adly, "and I'll not trouble you ny more, but just be your friend ~till, if you'll let me." He kept his pr'omise for a year. [n it changes came to pass. The rocer died, and he was his own naster. He wvas lonely, for he 2ad no other relative', save the old nan. The house seemed desolate, Lnd he used to think how Ruth's >resence there would brighten it. Ele saw her growing sweeter and learer to him every day, and so 2 spoke again : "Are you waiting t'or Jack,still?" i said. She answered, "I am always .vaiting." And nothing more was ;aid. lie was her friend again as he ad been, but he could not think >f any other face by the fire ,ide of his empty home, nor did Le seek to place one theire. Weeks lipped away and months. Ano ~her year, then. As the Christ nas time was comning on, and peo >le were trimming up their dwvel ings with evergreens and holly, se took her a great armful of 'ragrant branches for her little oom, and meeting her face to face, aw a look in her eyes th at lie had lever seen before. lie took hei' and in his and held it, and hier heek flushed. He bent bis head ow and kissed her on the mouth. "Are you waiting for Jack still?" he asked softly. She answered: '-I bave waited a long, long while. I shall novel' forget Jack ; but-but-" "But you'll remember me a lit tie?" said Gifford. When they parted Giff'ord Hull thought himself the happiest man on earth, for Ruth had promised to marry him on Christmas eve. The afternoon before, lie wvent to see her, and they spent a long and happy hour together. To-morrow she would be his to-morrow-to.morrow ! He told her all his plans for their life to gether-all his hopes. At last he arose to go. His band was on the latch, and he had kissed her, when theire came a knock upon the door. lHe open ed it. A man stood there, in sail or's dress, bronzed. brown with wind and weather, who opened his lips to speak-stopped with the words upon his lips, and uttered a low cry. It was echoed by Ruth -Ruth, who tore her hand away from 'Gifford, and screamed out: "It's Jack ! My God ! it's Jack name back to me I" "Jack !" Giffurd heard that, and knew what it meant. His heart. seemed to turn to a lump of stone. "Jack has come back to her !" he repeated ; and then remember inr the woman he loved more than himself, he spoke bravely, man fully: "Good-by, Ruth," he said. "Do't mind n. I'm glad you are happy. Forget that you ever gave Jack up, and-God bless you !" Then he was gone, leaving them together. Christmas eve had come. His marriage nlihrlit it Was to have been, and (iffolrd laV cast down upon the carpet before the blazing grate-fire, with his head upon his. hands. If he had been a woman, he could have sobbed and wailed. As it was, he only moaned. He was thinking. Just now the cler gvman's servant was lighting the gas in the parsonage parlor to be ready for them, and the clergy man was waiting and his good old wife. Just now, but for Jack, he would have tapped at her door, and she would have come out to him in her pearl-colored silk and pretty white bonnet, and ho would have handed her in'.o their car riage, and they would have driven to the. parsonage. and the words would have been uttered, the sweet, sweet words of the mar riage service, and those whom God had joined no man could have put asunder. Alas! Jack hadcome, bronzed, bright-eyed, handsome Jack, and had parted them for ever. .'And I wish I were dead !" said Gifford, hiding his face in his arms again. "0, I wihi I were dead I" Just. then, just as he said these words, the house door, that always creaked when it was - opened, creaked woefully, and a step cross, ed the hall, and the flutter of a woman's dress came to his ears; and Gifford lifted up his hcal, and saw that some one had come into V - room. The daylight was gone, he fire just gave a little.gleam -1 light, and he could not see Swas, and cailed out, "Who there." .Phen whoever it was came to ward him and knelt down, and put her hand upon his head. "Ruth !" be cried; "Oh, Ruth. why do you come here?" "Li,ght the lamp." she said, "and see why." He lit it. She stood before him in her dainty wedding dress, in which, no doubt, she was to be married to Jack. It was very cruel-but he did not tell her so. He only said: "W hy do you come to me. since Jack has come back to you ?" She lifted her eyes to his and smiled. "Jack did not seek me out," she said. "He rang at my door by chance. He dreaded nothing more than meeting me; for he is married to another woman, Giff'ord-he, for whom I waited so long, false heart that he is ! while a truie heart waited for me." "Married !" said (Gifford. T hen he looked at her. "Married ! and ou-" "I have come to you, Giff'ord," she said. "I have not even a mnem ory now that is not yours. The man I thought I loved never lived --only a myth that wore his like ness. And the kcnowledge has given me no pain, but only joy, if you still love me, Gifford." '-Then all the hope that had died in Gifford's heart blossomed once more; and the lights were not lit in the parsonage, nor did the clergyman's good wvife cut her cake or decant her wine, fruitless lv. ORDER.-Never leave things ly ing about-a shawl here, a pair of slippers there, and a bonnet some where else, tr-usti ng to a servant to set things to rights. No mat ter 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 find them when you want them again. Or if you set an example of carelessness, do not blame your servan ts for following 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 anid useless labor would be avoided. Contentment, which protects its votaries from baseness, is better than opulence,' which exposeS its owners to disdain. THE SUN'S FAIMILY OF PLAN ETS. Prof. Richard A. Proctor in one of his lectures on "Astronomy," gives a description of Jupiter, Sat urn, and Mars. Mars. he said was situated under more favorable c5n ditions than Venus or Mercury. Notes of't he rotation of the plan et were taken in 1866, and it was then tound by the French astron. omers, by whom they were made, that there Xere on it two spots, One of which it was thought grew gradualiv snall. Time went on. and it began to be noticed that the spots remained unchanged, and that they belonged to the surface of the planet. A comparison was made between the planet and our earth, and next came the qwuestion, how far we could regard the white spots as snows. Then came the wonderful diselosures of the spee troscope, and it. was discovered by Dr. Ifuggins, of England, and that there was a vapor of water in Mars. These white spots were recognized as polar snows. The wlite matter indicated the pres ence of clouds; then we knew there must be mountains, irregu. larities of surface, rain falls, air and water currents, wind, storm, and rain, and everything corres ponding with.what we find on-our earth. This was the Brewsterian notion, and correspondent with our ideas as formed from what we observe on this globe. The surface otMais was between a third and fourth part of the earth, and the- volume about a seventh part, so that an enormous number of living breatures might. exist there. The gravity was in the ratio of six to sixteen ; in oth er words, a pound weight on the earth would weigh sixteev pounds on Mars. If we lived there we should feel more active, mueb stronger and much lighter; in fact, all our powers would be.inereased. All the objects about us'ould be much lighter, and we should be able to manipulate them much bet ter than here. Mars was a small er body than the earth, and the moon was a smaller body than ars. If the gravity of our earth were reduced to that of Mars, the air would be immediately released nd its density would be immedi tely released, and its destiny would be little more than two ifths of what it was present. Ihe appearance presented by the planet indicated the existence of' n immense amount of cold in it. [e thought it was shown as clear y as p)ossible that Mars was in ended for the forms of life that we know of. It should be remnem ered that we recognized on our aarth conditions under which life eased. Minute animnalcula a. ounded, and these creatures were carried up by air currents. we also knew that life had passed away after a certain height was reaced. Coxwell and Glaisber wen t up in a balloon to an immense height and when they had reached seven miles, Glaisher whose pulse had risen to 100, fainted. Cox well went two- miles higher, and then ie found he was losingstrength and was unable to draw the valve, his only alternative being to pull the strings with his teeth. Then they descended, and their strength returned. The curious part of that story was that the pulse of either of them should have been at seven ty-four or sevety-six before they ascended. We all knew that people lived at a great altitude. The inhabitants of Quito were 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, and yet we heaid that they danced the whole night through. That fact wvas enough to showv that they enjoyed good health. The lecturer then proceeded to deal with the giant planet Jupiter -"the Prince of the Solar System" -as he termed it and observed that ini connection with it, as with Mars, a verification was afforded of the truth of Goethe's remark, that "in her monstrosites nature reveals her secrets." Jupiter, he said, was instinct with its in herent fires. Ordinarily it had a light green colored zone, like Saturn, but sometimes it presented a ruddy light. The light which it receiv ed from its satelites was only a sixteenth part of w hat we ge..t from a full moon. With regard to the theory that the planets are inhab ited, it seemed to him that an in termediate theory, was the more likely, arid 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 inhabited worlds. God of granite and the rose, Soul of the sparroW and the bee, The mighty tide of being flows Through countless channels, Lord, to Thee. It leaps the life in grass and flowers, Through every grade of being runs, Its glory shines ftam prison towers, ad comi. to ns from stars aud sas. RULES FOR SCHOLARS. Tbe following excellent rules for scholars we take from Northend's Teacher's Assistant, a book. which should be studied by every teacher. We hope that the boys and girls will live up to them faithfully. If they do, we will warrant them a profitablo school; and will also as sure them that they will be a great deal happier than they will be not. to- observe them: 1. On entering the school, pass as quietly to your seat as possible. taking care.to shut the door gen tiy, and avoid making unnecessari noise with the feet in crossing the room. 2. Take out books, slate, etc.. from your desk with care, and la3 them down in such a manner as not to be heard. Avoid making a rustling noise with papers, o 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 qtuiet while engaged in study; or, if 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. Take special care if you wear thick boots or shoes, or if they are made of sqi:eaking 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 tLe school-building. 7. Let your shoes or boots te cleaned at the door steps, always use the mat, if wet, muddy or dir ty. 8. Never suffer the floor under your desk, or the aisles around to be covered %with 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 or writing on the desk or walls, or any part oi the building or school premises, with pencil, chalk, or other articles, manifests a bad taste or a 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 sec.ool building. 14. Let your books etc., be al ways arranged in neat and convyen ent order in your~ desk and upon it. 15. after using brooms, dust brushes, etc., always return them to their proper places. 16. Be ambitions and have every part of your school so neat and orderly in. condition that visitors may be fovorably impressed with this -trait of your character. 17. Never meddle with the desk or prloperty of another scholar without liberty. 18. Boys should never wvear hats or caps in the school room. 19. Always bein yourown place, and busy about your 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 her own, or more point lace, or a longer train. What will the world think, as under the chandelier this painful contrast comes out. Such moments of deep humiliation cause sleepless nights, and the next day results in bills thaat become as riminal indictmen ts 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 arms 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 ism, but if you want your 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 counte-: Belects the costliest jewels, and says, in tones of majesty, "Send the bill to my husband I" A ToasT.-Woman: the last and best of the series-if we may have her for a toast, we won't asik any bthaer. WAISTED PAINT. Lucy If. Hopper, writingc to the Philadelphia Press from Paris,says, in describing an exhibition of paintings made by the "Anony mous Society of Painters and Seulptors:" "There was one paint ing which showed a background if very dim houses and trees, in front of which two broad strips, >ne pale butf and the other dark Vay, S,anted wildly up into mid air, :n.1 the gray stripe was spot ed with a number of parti.color i ittle "trea.ks dabbed on at ir -egular in tervals. I wrestled vainly with my imagination in order .o discover the subjeet of this Pic Lure, but, failing in the attempt, i had recourse to the catalogue, and found that the artist had in tended to paint a view of the Bou levard des Capucines, the gray stripe being the asphaltun pave ment,and the buff one the carriage road, and the parti-colored daubs being intended to represent the pronenaders on the sidewalk. Then there was a dreadful picture called 'Break fast,' where a wooden mother and child were partaking of lilac beefsteaks and pink eggs at a table whose surface was inclin. ed at an angle of forty-five degrees, as was also the floor of the room, so that it was a sheer miracle that everything did not go slidiag away into space at once; while a woman apparently made of sheet iron, was leaning all of a piece against the window-sill, stiff and rigid as a wooden image, and giat as a tea-tray. The landscapes, however, were the most ludicrous things, as they resembled nothing in the heavens above nor the earth beneath, and Were alike guiltlesa of perspective )r of natural color. ing. Yet after my first impulse to laugh had passed, I looked around and a feeling of sadness crept over me. What wasted hours, what false illusions, what blighted hopes did not these daub ed canvasses represent! Men that dreamed that they were painters had done these things, and seeing them not as we see them, but with the glamour of their inward con victions over theory, had sent them out to challenge the verdict of a critical world. And here they were, representing the toil of weeks, the ?tudy may be of years,,not wvorth the first cost of canvass and the colors whereof wthey ere composed, too meritless for criticism, too ludicrous even to be fit for fire-boards or tea-trays." WHAT WE Owe TO POVERTY. Wealth owes to poverty an im mense debt. Society is immensely and everlastingly indebted to the poor who have done its work, the long forgotten wvork on (which it builds and lives. It is poverty that felled the forests, and planted the wilderness, and levelled the hills, nd made straight the paths in which we walk. Poverty handled nd trimmed and laid upon one nother every brick and stone by. which this city has been built up, stretched every telegraph wvire from Maine to California, twisted very strand of the cable which binds the hemispheres in electric com munication. Directed by intelligence, it is true, but what were the brain without the hands ? Without pov erty, who would serve us and do our work, build our railroads and navigate our ships; and procure the products by which civilization subsists? Let rfot wealth come in, and say, "It is my capital that has done all this !" True, my brother, but whence the capital? Hast thou then spun it spider-like,, out of thine own bowels? Thatcapital is also the product of poverty. T hy capital is needed and moulded with the sweat of thy brother's face. His years, his weary years, are in it; it is carved out of thy brother's life. For what is capital but concrete labor-the labor of the past condensed and made por table ? Poverty, not wealth, has done th~e works. He is the great and patient creditor of us all. Pov orty, hard-handed, coarse-clad, toil bowed, weather-searred, shut out from the palaces, and temples of thine own rearing thou art our creditor. Who sball repay thee thy long dues ? Wbat a reckoning will that be when thou and wealth shall "meet at compt!"--Dr.Bledge. At a Teachers' Institute in Iowa, recently a lady teacher was given the word hazardons to spell and define, and did it in this style: "H-a-z haz, a-r-d, ard, hazard, e double-s, ess, hazardness-a fe male hazard." Fall River, Mass., lias only 900 retailers ofespirituous drinks. Wha'--ea am.m----ilg What's in a name-everythiM. IN ANCIENT TIMES. In the wardrobe of an Hebrew lady, the most splentlid article of clothing was turban, for those who could afford it. The poor people had to be satisfied with winding a piece of cloth round their head and fixing it as well as they could. The turbans were of various colors, and wound in different ways; some of them were like a high tower. Shoes and stockings were unknown, but sOles of leather were astened with two l:lches. The ladies, who car ried!uxilry into every department, and who are supposed, even in the present day, to be far more indif ferent to a nice, teat boot, or to elk. gant slippers, had their bhoes or rather sandals, and their latchets, made of colored leather; dark blue, violet and purple were fa vorite colors. The ankles were decorated with bracelets of gold and dainty silver chains and rings, with tiny 4ilver bells. Hair-nets and heid bands wera in great re quest. The latter were made of gold or silver, and wcrn under the net extending from one ear to the other. Ear rings were much thought of; we are told 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 rings with little bells attached to them. They were generally made of horn or silver. But the most popular ring was the nose-ring. The left nostril was pierced for the purpose, and a ring made of ivory or metal was put through it. Bracelets were favorite ornaments, and were generally worn on the right arm. Some of them were exceedingly large, so that they reached up to the elbow. Rings on the fingers were worn; chains of fine gc i, or strings of pearls with litdle silver balls or small tinkling bells worn round the neck, It was customary to attach orna mentsto these chains,either with no meaning as the crosses which our ladies wear, or to serve as amulets; such were round tics like the moon, small scen t-bottles, ornaments in the shape 'ot serpents, and little gold or silver plates on which were written words supposed to be possessed of mnagical power. BE NATTuALt.-One of the fash ionable 'ogies of the day is the afi fection of coolness. It is consid ered vulgar to be demonstrative. You meet an old friend; it is a blessing to your eyes to behold him once more. Your heart leaps up at the sight of him. Your im pulse is to grasp him warmly by the hand. You fee1 almost like embracing him in your joy. You must do nothing of the kind. No ripple must be permit ted to ruffle the smooth equili brium and indifference of your feel ings. You must greet him polite-' ly, but without emotion. So the false etiquette of whbich 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 apt to have the other and tbe better kind. They are not apt to manifest self-possession on such occasions as really call for it -occasions of difficulty and dan ger, and of great trials. Touch their self-love, make any unusual demand upon them for self-denial, and their assumed and superficial 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 is the use of a heart. There are crops that grow only on light soils, and the school of philosophy-miscalied philosophy -of which we speak, must have originated in shallow brains. ---+.- - LOVING AND HATING.-lf you love, love more. If you hate, hate less. Life is too short -to spend in hating any one. Why war against a mortal who is going the same road with us ? Why not ex pand the flower of life and happi ness by learning to love, by teach ing those who are near and dear the beautiful lesson ! Your hands may be hard, but yonr heart need not be. Your form may be bent or ugly but do you not know that the most beautiful flowers grow in the most rugged, unsheltered places ? The palace forecare,tteocot tage for love. Not that there is no love in a mansion; but somehow, if we are not very careful, business will crowdall there is of beauty out of the heart. This is why God has given us the Sabbaths and Satur day nights, that -we may leave business and have a heart-Cl9n i~g. IADVERTISINC RATESE Advertisements inscrted at the rats of $1.00 per square- ontinch-for irst inserdion, and 75c. for each subsequent iasertion. Double colamnn advertisements tea per cent on itbois. Notices-t-Zmeelngs,-61jjtA1s && &ules of respect, same rates per square as ordinlary adve-rdsemts. Special nodSe4 in locat column 20 cents perlue. Adveitisemnts not marked vftk the nmm ber of Insertions will he kept In -till forbid and charWe acco=*Wgy. Specinl. conitracs made - wit-w" adwer tisers, withliberal dedu(2!0-woPat~yatcea. Done with Xeiingis and Dispidch. Terms Cash. WHY SHOULD ANY- N-A IF SWEAB. I can coneeivo of no re"dDn'why he Should; but Many why- e should not:. 1. It is mean ; a mhn of' high moral standing would almost as lief stcal sheep as swear. 2. It is vulgar; Altogether too low for a dccent man. 3. It is cowardly, implying a fear of either not'being"bjYMved or obeyed. - 4. It is'ungentlemanly; st gen flemnan according. to Webeter is wellbred, refined;- -sueb-. a -n will no more swear thal gIo Into tLeG streets and* throw mhid.-with a clod-hopper. 5. It is i ndekeni. offesiet4l icacy, and extremely an&-z man cars.7 6. It is foolish; a wan t ofdeenDeY is a want of sense. 7. It is abusirbe; to em'iad which conceives the, 6ath AeAThe tongue which utrvi,a~ta person to whom it is zdd 8. It is Venomous,i-~g mAn's heart to be &:Dest -6fi0ft16 and every. time he sweari-1 6n& -of them -sticks -tt bis hee&~' 9. It is contemptible; for6tD the respect of all -the6 wiwe 4nd work. It is for her to strip the grosser husk from passion, and -to liAvelOD the term of ont~husis~m,