The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, July 22, 1874, Image 1
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.
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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,