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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 13, 1875. No. 2. THE HERALD IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDIKESDAY MORNING) At Newberry C. Hop ..-f -R ~ R Editor and Proprietor. Tenns, s.2-50 per JtInU5S jurariably in ACITRUCe. Thepe i -:Vpedat the expiratiOnl Of ich it ispad 07 The >4.':ZW*jj=tw expiration of sub scription. TH!MP60N.& 'JONES, 3Dental Surgeons, (Gradnates ot~ the Pennsylvania College Of. Dental Surgery.) M*r. 19, '73--1l-tf. ATLANTA,"GEORGIA. 0 ORB~WJE -BAPTIST DENONIATIO. -_0 REV. D. SH AVER, D.D., ED1TOF_ ASSOCIATE EDITORS: REV. D. E. BUTLEM Dix. J. S. LAWTON. * CO0XPJSMN-D1NG EDITORS. pr_&.SH&7KDERS0X.D.D., .ALpxNE, ALA. REv. E. B. TEAGUE, D.D., SELxA. AjA. ]REv. T. G. JONES, D.D., - NASHVILLE, TENs. steadfsftj' -devoted to the Tenets and great interests of the Baptist Denomination, this p aper, which for nearly half a century, has been the or,-gzL and favorite of the Bap qjt.Gegs andfo thept= tseven, aeint= t reaion to hof T7- e:eeoSoitiACarolina,Floridan thessiplwil ein1 the future, merit, by reciation. The reader will find that, be 'qua"tity of Moral and Beli. V7th:whiezitts freightedweek sWlection of raiscelbuieous read Inoedipiete summary,of reliable Paeligenoe-both domestic and foreign wfi&e-der them independent of other pa b~~.reetl prited Market Reports of he w0mcplcitesm wilTake the paper in THE GOLDSMITII'S DAUGIH TER. PARAPHRASED PROM THE GERM.XN OF UHL AND. Up spoke the Goldsmith proudly Unto his daughter fair; "Ab! here are pearls and di.monds And rubies rich and rare; But none with- thee; my Helen, In beauty can compare!" In came a knight.o. gayly, A youth of rioble mien; With "I would have a garland, The finest e'er was seen; Spare neitber cost nor labor; 'Tis for my bridal-queen." li. The work-is done; and Helen Cri-d, "Lucky bride is she Who wears this splendid garland, Ah!-would he give to-me A simple wreath of roses, How happy I should be!" IV. "Tis well," the knight made answer, When he this wreath had seen; "Now make a ring with diamonds And of the purest sheen; Spate neither cost nor labor; 'Tis for my bridal-queen!" Y. The work is done; and Helen Cried, "Lucky bride Is she Who wears this blasing circlet! AhI would he give to me One of his golden tresses, How happy I should be!" VI. "T7s well," the knight made answer, Then to the maid he cried, "I fain would have these jewels On thee, a moment tried; That I may judge the surer If they become my bride." And soon her blushing forehead Was with the garland graced; And then upon her finger The knight, in loving haste, The ring of gold and diamonds In merry triumph placed! VIII. * "Ah! Helen-dearest Helen!" The happy lover cried; "For thee they were intended, My darling and my pride! And by the jeweled tokens I take thee for my bride." KY WHIWTLING NEIGHBOR. We have moved into a new beuses situated about the centre ini a row of ton, all bound upte gether in hurried mushroom fash ion, and divided from each other by partitions of brick so thin that ound was only a little deadened in passing through. For the first three or four nights I was unable to sleep except in snatches, for so many noises came to my ears, originating, apparently, in my own domicile, that anxiety in regard to the burglars was-constantly ex ited. Both on the first and sec ond nights I made a journey thooghMbh onose .in the samally b*Siinbt~ f'und no intruders-oni my premises. The sounds tbit. disturbed m'e;came from some of my neighbof,91o kEept iMter vig ils thari sug{ed my habits. "There ijt isagiin," said I, losit ing up from my paper, as I sat reading on the second day after taking possession oif .my own home. "That fellotw isha nuisance." "What fellow?" asked my' wife, whose countenance showed sup prise at the .r-emark. She was eTier' unconsctous- or~ unaffeeEl by the circumstance that annoyed my sensitive ears. "'Don't you hear it ?" said I. "Hear what ?" "Thbat everlasting whistle." "Oh !" 'A smile played over my wife's face. "Does it annoy you ?" "I can't say that I am par tiularly annoyed by 't yet ; but I shal! be, if it is to go on inces santly. A man whistles for want of thought, and this very fact will ?? "I'm not so sure of that," re marked my wife, interrupting me, "the poet notwithstanding. I would say that he whistles from exuberant feelings. Our neigh bor has a sunny temper, no doubt; what, I1 am afraid cannot be said of our neighbor on the other side. I've never heard him whistle; but his scolding abilities are good, and, judging from two days' observa tion, he is not likely to permit them to grow feeble for want of use." I did not answer, but went on with my reading, silenced, if not reconciled to my whistling neigh bor. Business matters annoyed me through the day, and I fel', moody and depressed as I took my course homeward at nightfall. I was not leaving my cares behind me. Be fore shutting my account books, pad loeking my fire-proof; I had made up a bundle of trouble,s to narry hnrre with m, andl me shoulders stooped beneath the bur. den. I did not bring sunlight into my dwelling, as I crossed, with dull, deliberate step, its threshold. The I flying feet that sprung along the I hall, and the cager voices that fill od suddenly the air in sweet tu mult of sound as I entered, were I quiet and hushed in a little while. I did not repel my precious ones. for they were very dear to my 2 heart; but the birds do not sing I joyously except in the sunshine i and my presence had cast a sha. 1 dow. The songs of my home-birds c died into fitful chirpings-thoy Fat- b quiet among the branches. I saw P this and understood the reason. I condemned myself; I reasoned r against the folly of bringing world ly cares into the home sanetuary. I I v endeavored to rise out of my gloomy t tate. But neither philosophy ir nor a self-compelling effort was of S iny avail. 0 I was sitting with my hand partly shading my face from the I light, still in conflict with myself, a wher I became conscious of a lift- N ng of the shadows that were s tround me, and of a freer respira ,ion. The change was slight, but n still very perceptible. I was begin iing to question as to its cause, a Nhich had been operative through he serse of hearing,thcogh not be- it ore externally perceived in conse- 11 uence of my abstracted state.- ei Ky neighbor was whistling "Be- a one, Dull Care !" ti Now, in my younger days, I iad whistled and sung the air and fe words of this cheerful old song s iundreds of times, and every line ir was familiar to memory. I listen- fl d with pleased interest for a ti ittle while, and then, as my hanging state gave power to re rolutions quick-born of . better eason, I said in my thought, em )hatically, as if remanding an evil ipirit. it "Begone, dull care !" And the lend left me. Then I spoke cheerfully, and in ^one of' interest to quiet little Kay, who had walked around met bree or four imes, wondering int er little heart, no doubt, what,e aeld her a distance fromher Papa, and who was now seated by her nother, leaning her flaxen head, luted all over with glossy curls, gainst her knee. She sprung-at ny voice and was in my lap at a yound. What, a thrill of pleasure 1 ~he tight of her arms to my heart! ), love, thou art full of bl6ssing ! From that moment I felt kinder ~owards my neighrbor.. He had lone me good-had played before ne as David played I>efore Saul, xercising the evil spirit of dis sontent. There was no longer a -epellant sphere, and soon all my ittle ones were close around me ~nd happy. as in other times with ~heir father. After they were all n n bed, I sat alone with my wife, " ~he cares that "infest the day" h nade a new assault upon me, anid a rigorously strove to regain their a lost empire in my mind. I felt " their approaches, and the gradual ii receding of cheerful thoughts with every advancing step they made. Si [a my struggle to maintain that 0 tranquility which so strengthens l( .he soul for work and duty, I n arose and walked the floor. My p wife locked up to me with inquiry g in her face. Then she let her eyes bi fall upon her needle-work, and as 2 [ glanced toward her at every s urn in my walk I saw an expres- e ion of tender concern on her lips. 8 She understood that I was not at S ease in my mind, and the knowi- ii edge troubled her-. "How wrong in me," I said in Ii self-rebuke, "thus to let idle brood ing over more outside things d which such brooding can in no f way affect, trouble the peace of a my home;" and I made a new ef- I fort to rise again into a sunnier region. But the fiend had me in ai his clutches again, and I could not f release myself. Now it was that t my David came anew to my re- C lief. Suddenly his clear notes i rang out in the air; "Away with a Melancholy !" I cannot tell which worked the 1 instant revulsion of feeling that came-the cheerful air, the words of the'song which were called to C remembrance by the air, or the I associations of bygone years that l were revived. But the spell was E potent and complete. I was my self again. During the evening i the voice of my wife broke out < several times into snatches of I song-a thing quite unusual of I late, for life's sober realities had] taken the music from her as well as from her husband. We were grow- 1 ing graver every day. It was plaatt'erhrfuelk oe aanveypleasant,toheanhe myt-lk oer heree oigy h as ofgtis,tu arlesngt, recogmyzedr hearkened -lovingly. The cause I af tkia ettal was.hlina T saamaniend i 'hey were responsive to our ieighbor. I did rot then remark upon the -ircunstances. One reason of this ay in the fact I had spoken light y of our neighbor's whistling pro )ensity which had struck me as rulgar; and I did not care to ac cnowledge myself so largely his lebtor as I really was. We were in our bed-room, and bout retiring for the night, when aud voices as if in strife, came iscordantly through the thin arty-walls, from our neighbors n the other side. Sbmething ad gone wrong there, and angry assions were in the ascendant. "How very disagreeable !" I re iarked. "The man's a brute !" said my rife.emphatically. "He does no 4ing, it seems to me but wrangle i his family. Pity he hadn't )me of the pleasant temper of ur neighbor on the other side." "That is a more agreeable sound must confess," was my answer, 3 the notes of "What fairy-like [asic steals over the Sea," rose iveetly on the air. "Far more agreeable," returned ly wife. "He plays well on his instra tent," I said, smiling. My ear was following the notes i pleased recognition. We stood stening until our neighbor pass I to another air, set to Mrs. He. ian's beautiful words, "Come to ie Sunset Tree." To a slow, >rt, tender measure, the notes. 41, yet still we heard them with ngular distinctness through the itervening wall, just a little muf ed, but sweeter for the obstruc on. "rhe day is past and gone, The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done." My wife recalled these lines om her memory, repeating them a subdued, tranquilizing tone. he air was still sounding in our irs, but we no longer recognized rApressions on the external sensEs. had done its work of recalling ie beautiful Evening Hymn of eo Switzer, and we repeated to .ch other verse after verse "Sweet is the hour of rest. Pleasant the wood's own sigh, And the gleaming of the west, And the turf whereon we lie. When the burden and the heat Of labor's tasks are o'er, And kindly voices greet The loved one at the door." o which I added, "But rest more sweet and still Than ever nightfall gave, Our longing hearts shall fill, In the world beyond the grave, There shall no tenmettblov. No scorching noontdde beat ; There shall be no. more snow, No weary, waindering feet, From the hilis our fathers trod To the quiet of the skies To the Sabbath of our God." All was now still on both sides. he harsh discord of our scolding eighbor had ceased, and our 'histling neighbor had warbled is good-night melody which, like pleasant flower growing near ai unsightly object, and interpos ig a veil of beauty, had removed ,from our consciousness. It was a long time sine~e I had felt > peaceful upon retiringr as when iy head went down upon its pi! >w,thanks to my light-hearted eighbor, at whose whistling pro ensit.ies I was inclined in the be inning to be annoyed. But for im 1 should have gone to rest rith the harsh discord of my :oding neighbor's voice in my ars, and been ill at ease with my slf and the world. On what eming trifles hang our states of ind. A word, a look, a tone of ausic, a discordant jar, will bring ght or shadow, smiles or tears. On l,be next morning, while ressing myself, thought reached >rward over the day's anxieties, nd care began drawing her som re curtains around me. My neighbor was stirring also, nd, like tbe awakening bird, tune ul matins, "Day on the Moun ains" rang out cheerfully, follow d by "Dear Summer Morn," wind ng off with "Begone, Dull Care !" nd the merry laughter of a hap y child which had sprung into is arms, and was being covered ith kisses. The cloud that was gathering n my brow passed away, and I net my wife and children at the reakfast-table with p1 e a s a n t miles. In a few days I ceased to notice he whistling of my neighbor. It ontinued as usual; but had grown o be such a matter of course as iot to be an object of thought. 3ut the effect remained, showing tself in a gradual restoration of ,at eheerfulness which care, and work, and brooding anxiety about worldly things, - are so apt to pro luee. The "voice of musie" wbich ad been almost damb in my wife or a long period iias gradually h8u44ad. Qld failiar 4 i t A i FASHION GOSSIP. OPIT's COSTUMEtc-THE LATEST PARISIAN NOVELTIE?. The latest importation of orth's costumes are elaborately immed, and the materials are incipally silk and cashmere. A ilking suit disposed in dark ime gros grain has the skirt ite deni-train, with the back re cut "Watteau," with garni re of bias velvet one shade dark than the silk. The sides are autifled with plaits and tiny ifies. The front is arranged en -me of an apron, made very long d left open on the right side. ke appearance is decidedly bizar. and the entire costume is pro iely orne with jets, fringe and itly lace. Another exquisite let designed for full dress eve ig wear-the material is heavy ,ons silk of a very pale sulphur e, combined with gros grain of almost invisible pink tint. The irt cut full court train, which is mutifully trimmed with pointl e intermixed with knife-plated Mes, and the whole is richly fin ted off with clusters of flowers d tiny vines. The corsage cut r, Pompadour sleeves to the el w, aud trimmed to correspond the skirt. A carriage-dress, ar nged in raoss-tinted velvet, skirt t demi-train, and gardished with lounce of guipure lace, headed th beaded ginip of a singular Lf pattern. The basque is cut front to form the appearance an apron; this is richly em idered, and every leaf, flower d spray is dotted over with Sne t beads; the effect is bewilder gly beautiful, and forms -one of e most attractive garments in e exposition. Skirts- f6tAe promnad'e wear 3 aboat the same length as those >rn last summer; they are cut 7ery little narrower at the bot mn. The close-fitting skirts are 11 in vogue. Knife plaits are qIuite e rage for all kinds of costumes. ~lyet trimming is popular, and s are everywhere, it is almost possible to get enough of this ttering garniture on a mode let. "Cuirasses" are favorites, d when made of velvet and bhionably trimmed, form a pleas Sand ever-becoming toilet ac isory. Bonnets and bats are growing, d let us hope that they will ac ire the trick of covering the >nitof the head, and noteconfine omselves so exclusively to the >wn and back part of the head. te useful and natty French felt apeaux are quite the rage; of urse velvet will be the leading rle for winter wear. Long imes are again up for favor. -os grain ribbons are very much ed on bats, and pretty scarfs are io a noble garniture for made >iselle's chapeaux. Dark flowers e favorites ; still, gay foliage of kinds is used. The wide brim t, with left side tipped back, and :wn of medium height, is a re arche headgear for young and ddle-aged ladies. Hats with aring" fronts and sides indent are designed particularly for 'Is. The nobby hat for a young ly has the shape of a gentleman's apeau, high crown, medium im, with garniture quite simple d yet expensive-long ostrich uime, pure jet aigrette, and some stly gem to complete the whole, id present to Ladye Faire a ave of a hat." Bows of subdued colors on the It, wrists, and even worn on the ,k of the promenading jacket polonaise, are considered quite ~etive. Veils have considerable freedom. Tey are worn generally to suit e taste of the wearer ; all de nds upon the shape of the apeau; hence, I a r g o, small, ort, long, round and square veils e called fashiooable. Perhaps e style of veil most in vogue is e plain net, and worn quite close the face'and in length just aching the chin. Afternoon toilets worn upon and occasions, such as receptions, ling, and driving, are very aborately 'gotten up, consisting much Parisian finery, and cost display of jewelry. But there more freedom granted in the ode of evening toilets than is splayed in costumes worn on her occasions, except at wed ogs, where costly garments and agnificent jewelry are always iropos. Embonpoint ladies can't wear the tirass style of corsage. - - - . - - VKrietq is eM nc ofl*e LEARN A TRADE. I never look at my old steel composing rule that 1 do not bless myself that while my strength lasts, I am not at the mercy of the world. If my pen is not wanted, I can go back tD the type-case, and be sure to find work ; for I learned the p r i n ters' trade thoroughly-newspaper w o r k job work, book work and press work. I am glad I have a good trade. It is as a rock upon which the possessor ean stand firmly. There is health and vigor for both mind and body in an honest trade. It is the strongest and surest part of the self made man. Go from the academy to the printing office or the artizans' bench, or, if you please, to the farm-for to be sure, to true farming is a trade, and a grand one,at that. Lay thus a sure foundation, and after that branch off into whatever profession you please. You have heard, perhaps, of the clerk that faithfully served Stephen Girard from boyhood to manhood. On the -twenty-first anniversary of his birthday he went up to his master and told him his time was up, and he certainly expected important promotion in the merchants' service. But Ste. phen Girard said to him: "Very well. Now go and learn a trade." "What trade, sir ?" "Good barrels and butts must be in demand while you live. G: and learn the cooper's trade; and when you have made a perfedt barrel bring it to me." The young man went away and learned the trade, and in time brought to his old master a splen did barrel of his own make. Girard examined it and gave the maker two thousand dollars for it, and then said to bIM: "Now iir, I r.ant you in my counting room ; but henceforth you will not be dependent on the whim of Sephen Girard. Let what will come you have a good trade always in reserve." - The young man saw the wis dom of it and understood. Yesrs ago when the middle-aged men of to-day were boys, Horace Greeley wrote: "It is a great source of consola tionto us that when the public shall be tired of us as an editor, we can make a satisfactory livelihood at settiag type, or farming;i so that while our strength lasts ten thous and blockheads, taking offence at some article they do not under stand, could not drive us to the poor-house." And so may a man become truly independent. PROVERBS. Amos Atkins was very fond of proverbs. He read p r ovyer bs, wrote proverbs and spoke proverbs; and, meet him wvhere you would, he ha&d always a proverb upon his lips. When he once began to speak there was hardly any stop ping him. When I1 first met Amos I was on my way to my uncle's. A long walk it was ; but I told him 1 hoped to be there before night. "Ay, ay," said he. "Hope is a good breakfast, but a bad supper. Put your best foot foremost, boy, or else you will not be there. It is a good thing to hope but he who does nothing but hope is in a very hopeless way. "Have a care of your temper ; for a passionate boy rides a pony thatruns away with him. Passion has done more mischief in the world than all the poisonous plants that is in it. Therefore, again I say, have a caire of your tem per. "Remember that the first spark burns down the house. Quench the first spark of passion, and all will be well. No good comes ol wrath; it puts no money in the pock et and no joy in the heart. Anger begins with folly and ends with repentance. "Look to 'our feet and youi fingers, boy, and let both be kept in activity ; for he who does no thing is in a fair way to do mis chief. An idle lad makes a needy man and I may add, a miserable one, too. "If you put a hot coal in youm pocket it will burn its way out. Ay, and so will a bad deed that iu hidden make itself known. A fault concealed is a fault doubled and so you will find it all througt life. Never hide your faults, bul confess them, and seek, througi God's help, to overcome them. "Now step forward boy ; and ai you walk along, think of the half dozen proverbs given you by Amoi Atkins." H -.----s o c ariy--- it He whoy.ba ocaiymrt nn merov. would break from her throat as she sat sewing, and I would often hear her singring again from room to rcom, as in sunnier days of our spring-time. As for myself, scarce ly an evening passed, in which I w was not betrayed into beating time with my foot to "Auld Lang Syne," "Hail Columbia," or "Com in' through the Ryei" in response to my neighbor's cheery whistle. Our children, also, caught the in- P1 fection, and would commence sing ing on the instant our neighbor pr tuned his pipes. Verily he was q our benefactor-the harpingDavid 1 to our Saul. tu "You live at No. 510, 'I think," er said a gentleman whose face was be familiar, though I was not able to ra call his name. We were sitting f side by side in the cars. an I answered in the affirmative. T1 "So I thought," he replied. tI re, live at 514-second door east." "Mr. Gordon." co "Yes, sir, that is my name.- to Pleasant houses, but mere shells." ni Then with a look of disgust on Lj his face, "Doesn't t,hat, whistling hu fellow between us annoy you ter- an ribly ? I've got so out of all pa- sk tience, that I shall either move or be silence him. Whistle, whistle, la from morning till night. PahI I rn always detest whistling. '.Lt's a isl sign of no brains. I've written an him a note twice, but failed to lo send either time; it isn't pleasant bc to quarrel with a neighbor if you to can help it." ra "It doesn't annoy me at all," I cu answered. "Indeed, I rather like a iti "You do? Well, that's singular ? lei just what my wife says." in "First-rate for the blue devils, I of find. I'm indebted to my whist- br ling friend for sundry fav:rs in an this direction." cu My new acquaintance looked at in, me seriously. th "You are not in earnest?" said th he, a half-amused smile breaking through the unamiable expression ar which his face had assumed. WI "Altogether in"arne~t; and I a eg of you not to send that note. to So your wife is not annoyed ?" sti "Not she." . th "Is she mu'iical ?" I inquired. V -'She was ; but of la.te years life 30~ ae been rather a serious matter in with us, and her singing-birds gI ave died or lost the heart for mu- to an "The history of many other fa lives," I said. inl The man sighed faintly. ce "Has .there been any reeent cange ?" I ventured to inquire, an "in what respect ?" he asked. qu "Has there been no voice from frI the singing-birds ?" tb A new expression came sudden- Cr y into the man's face. TI "Why, yes," he answered, "now cb that I think of it, there have been CO some low fitful warblings. Only st; last evening the voice of my wife PT stole out, as if half afraid, and Gi trembled a little on the words of uS n old song." aI "The air of which our neighbor mn was whistling at the time," said I. ar "Right as I live I" was my coin all panion's exclamation, after a pause, ha slapping his hand on his knee. Ie ould hardly help smiling at the ch look of' wonder, and amusement, m and conviction, that blended on " his face. ed "I would not send that note." gi said I mean ingly. lal "No, hang me if I do ! I must cb study this case. I'm something of br a philosopher, you must know. If an or nr ghbor can waken the .sing- pl ing-birds in the heart of my wife, cC he may whistle till the crack of at doom ~without hindrance from "I me. I'm obliged to you for the suggestion." be A week afterwards I met him be again. "What about the singing- or birds ?" I asked, smiling. e "All alive again, thank God !" he answered, with a heartiness of T~ manner that caused me to look tb narrowly into his face. It wore a p~ better expression than when I ob. cE served it last.s "Theb you did not send that ar note?" th "No, sir. Why since, I sawt you I've actually taken to whist- to ling and humming old tunes again, re and you can't tell how much better it makes ?me feel. And the chil- gi dren are becoming as merry and c musical as crickets. Our friend's el whistle sets them all a-going, like Of the first signal warble of a bird at . day-dawn that a wakens the woods is to melody." m We were on our way homeward, di and parted at my own door. As ot I entered, "Home, Sweet Home" di was pulsing in tender harmonies on the air. I stood still and listen-m ed until tears fell over my cheeks. a1 The singing-birds were alive in the heart of my wife, also,, and I said "Thank God !" as warmly as myniho-4dutee b od at aegho a outredh wrs ata.itlewhl foe I Reninnel's Maolar1 W-71 e IADVERTISINC RATES, IAdvertisements inserted at the rate of $1.00 per square-one inch-for first insertion, az!d I75c. for each subsequent insertion. Double *olumn advertisements ten per cent on above. Notices of meefings, obituaries and tribVie of respect, same rates per square as ordihrm advertisements. Special notices in local colm i 20 cents per line. Advertisements not marked with the num - I)cer of insertions will be kept fo til forbid and dharged accordingly. Special contrac's m=de with 1w dvr tisers, with liberal deductions odkom rates. Done with AVeamn and Dfspueb. Terms Cash. THE HO11TEL CLERK, r I can shako bands with a Gov crnoi , sit beside an Alderman, and f smnoke with a State Senator 'and D never feel my littleness but when D I come to stand in the presence of La modern hotel clerk, I feel that-awe -and inferiority which tourists 'feel as tL~ey stand in Yosemitb Valley Iand look up at the mountain tops a Sthousand feet abov-e. There is somet,hing about thatyon man standingt behind the office couater of a first-class hotel %vbi,eh isu cdcu Ilated to hold the common man at a distance; you aky gime at bim if you wish to-in fact he is there to be gazed at- but don't attempt to be familiar. I would as soon think of dining wit h.the crater. of avolcano as of going upr, extenditlg ra hand to a hotel clerk and asking him if his family were enjoying tolerable good health. I some #.*mes dream. of being thus taraiiliar,. and when I wake up I fee! as if I had been frozen. The dignity, asperity, and condescension 'of ihe thec modern hotel clerk! Did you erer notice ho' he resents- th- at tempted familiarity of travelons? If a man calls bim, "old -boy". or yells: "Say you fellow there 1" -no .lflA ,~nrnnlex mass which meets THE REASON WHY. Why does boiling fast rende meat hard. Because the excessive action c the heat causes the albumen of th meat to set solid, crisp up th fleshy fibers, and prevents hea having a gradual access to the irn terior. Why, when a good soup or brot is required, should the meat b put into cold water? Because as the heat i-i develop ed very gradually, there occurs ar intermixture between the juice o the flesh and external matter. Th< soluble and savory part of th( meat escapes and enriches thi soup. Why are stews generally health ful and digestible ? Because, being compounds o various substances, they contair all the elements of nutrititn, an< as the office of the stomach is tc liquify solid food before digesting it, the previous stewing assists'thc stomach in this particular. What causes the cracking noisc when lard is put into a frying pan ? Lard always contains some por tion of water, and it is the expan sion of that water into steam forcing its way through the fal thatcauses the cracking noise. The beat at which fat or oil -boil is much greater than water. When the cracking ceases the wa ter is gone, and when the fat bub bles its heat is very high. Why should fish or meat that it being fried be frequefitly turned Because the turcing assists th( evaporation of the water. Wher the fish or meat is allowed to lii too long steam is generated un der it, and the steam is driven ofi the surface catches to the hot par and becomes burnt and broken. Why is broiled meat so juicy an< savory ? Because action of the fire hard ening its surface seals up the pore through which the juices migh escape. A fork should not be use for turning it as the tines open way for the escape of the juices thus wasting the best part of th< meat. Why should the water upom cabbage be changed in cooking? Because, (according to Dr. Par is).cabbage contains an essentia oil which is apt to produce bad ef fects, and he recommend3 that i should be boiled in two successiv4 waters till it is soft and digestible PR AISE THE CHILDREN. There is an idea that praise is to< good athing tobe given toechildren that it is too rich for their menta and moral digestion. Some pa rents are so afraid that a child wil grow p)roud that they never praisi him, and this course is often disas trous. It is apt to produce to< much self-assertion-for self-asser tion is a legitimate oitgrowvth o withholding commendation fron one who is entitled to it, or it wil endanger self-distrust or melan choly hopelessness of disposition Praise is sunshine to a child, ani there is no' child that does no need it. It is the high ieward o one's struggle to do right. Tho ma Hughes says that you can neve get a man's best out of him wvitlb out praise. You- certainly ea never get a child's best out of hit without praise. Many a sensitiv child, we believe, dies of hunge for lack of kind recommendatior Many a child starving for th praise a parent should give run off eagerly after the designin flattery of others. To withhol praise where it is due is dishonesl and in the case of a child such course often leaves a stinging sens of injustice. Motives of commo justice as well as a regard for th future of the child should influene the parent to give generous prais to all whe deserve it. Of cours there is a difference in the const. tution of children; som cannic bear so much praise as others, an some need a great deal. It shoul never be indiscriminate. We r< member a wonderful woman wh taught a school in one village ur til she' had educated a part c three generations. She was on of the most successful of teachers Ibut her success lay in her gift c praising with discrimination. a bad boy w ho was a good schola got praises for his brilliancy sanc wiched between her abomninatio of his bad behavior, and so we won to a better life; and we reca a good girl who had no gift fc learning rapidly, but who ws Isaved from utter despair by th praise she got for her untiring in dustry. Into the discourage< heart of the children the praise o the teacher came like sunlight and the virtues, like fruit, can oni: rinen in eiinahine.