University of South Carolina Libraries
4 - - / . , LEWIl1JI1fRIST'| " In gnkptnknt Jf^ii^Befo^ VOL. 15. ~ YOEKYILLE, S. O., THURSDAY, JULY 22, 1869. NO. 29. BETTER LATE THAN NEVER. Life is like a race where some succeed While others are beginning; 'Tis luck in some, in others speed, That gives an early winning; But if you chance to fall behind, Ne'er slacken your endeavor ; Just keep this w'holesome truth in mind? "'Tis better late than never!" And if you keep ahead 'tis well. But never trip your neighbor; "Tis noble when you can excel By honest, patient labor; But'if you are outstripped at last, Prass on as bold as ever ; Remember, though you are surpassed, "'Tis better late than never!" Ne'erlabor for an idle boast Or victory o'er another; But while you strive uttermost, Deal fairly with a brother? ""* Whate'er your station, do your best, Arid hol'd your purpose ever; And if you fail to do the rest, "'Tis'better late than never." Choose well the path in which you runSucceed bv double daring; TKon Mmnrrh flm luut whpn nnofl 'tis won. I Your crown is worth the wearing. F Then never fret if left behind, Nor slacken your endeavor, But ever keep this truth in mind? "'Tis better late tlian never." MRS. STIRLING'S RECEPTION. . "When thou makest a dinner, or supper, call nol thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmet nor thy rich neighbors." "And so we are really settled in our own house. It seems too good to be true, don't it?" As John Sterling's pretty wife was speaking, she let down the soft, heavy-falling brocatelle curtains of the handsome room, half parlor, half library, where she sat with her husband ; turned on a lit tie more gas, so that the Italian peasant girl, anc the dark, bright Spanish woman, on the alabastei shade of the drop-light, might display their beau ties yet more glowingly; and then seated herself 11 a little easy-chair, beside the lounge where her hus band lay stretched out in the enjoyment of the masculine comforts?evening ease and household sovereignty. Taking up a dainty bit of bright colored knitting, she went on: "It was very nice, to be sure, boarding at mother's, but it was a sort of vacaut life, after all. This is so much bette'r. I have something to do now." John Stirling smiled. "And something to govern. After all, I believe it is the love of power that makes you women sc delight in homes of your own. I don't doubt, gentle as you women seem, that your servants find you as austere as the Great Mogul." "I declare, John, you are too bad; I never scold and I'm 9ure everything has gone on so nicely since we have been here?'' "A whole week and all the brooms new. But don't look sober. I have every confidence in your ability to keep the wheel moving." She sat silent awhile, until her husband began to want to hear her voice again, and rallied her from her abstraction. "What is it, little one? You seem in a brown study about something. Remember I'm your prime minister, and must know all the state secrets and cares of government." "I was only wondering, John, whether you would see a certain matter as I do. Do you realize how many parties we went to while we were at mother's? There were the Hurlbuts asked us three times, and the Graysons twice, and you know we went everywhere." John Stirling knew that very well. Somewhat reserved of nature save to those of his own househcw. and not fond of general society, going to a continual round of parties had been one of the \ sacrifices he had made during the first winter ol his marriage, to please his gay little wife. The idea crossed his mind, as she spoke, that she, too, had wearied ot so iuucn excitement, uuu was going to propose, for the future, a quieter life. "Yes, I like it," she said, with a little embarrassment, for her woman's intuition divined the course his thoughts had taken. "I was only thinking, John, that having accepted so many invitations, every one would say we were mean if we did not give at least one large party in return. It would be just the best time now, don't you see ? Everything we have is so fresh and new?our drawing rooms are really elegant. I should so like to gather our friends round us, and give a sort of house-warming." "That's a primitive, comfortable sounding term, Nellie. How much would this friendly little affair cost us ?" "Oh! I've thought that all over. We should have to ask every one we know. It wouldn't do to slight any. Besides, the more the merrier, you know. We could have Smith get up the supper and furnish the decorations. His bill would be about three hundred and fifty?say fifty more for music; and a new dress for me." } "Five hundred dollars, eh, Nellie?" "Yes, I'm sure I could make five hundred do il handsomely. I could send out the invitations foi week after next." "Well, dear, you must let me dream over it, 1 really didn't know receptions were such expensive affairs. Five hundred dollars for an evening's entertainment; and the prospect of a hard winter, and much suffering among the poor. Well, I'll tell you iu the morning. If I can make up mj mind that it is right, you shall have the party." The rest of the evening was a little constrained. The young wife, seeing that her husband did noi care to talk about the reception any more just then, struggled bravely to avoid the subject, and, inasmuch as it held possession of all her thoughts, wa: rather an absent-minded companion. That night, after his wife was quietly asleep be t i i? a. __ i side mm, .Jonn ournng spent an nuur 01 uui uu troubled thought. Unlike Nellie, he had beei brought up in a quiet country home, where fiv< hundred dollars would have been thought a by U( means inadequate provision for the support of i whole family during the entire year. Was it right 1 could it be right, to spend it upon one evening': entertainment, for the sake, too, of people wh( would be in no wise benefitted thereby?whost choicest pleasures were so common that they hai already palled upon their senses. But then, a: his wife had suggested, they had been out so inucl would not this drawing back from a return of civ ilities look very mean ? And John Stirling shranl with all the pride of a sensitive man, from the leas imputation of meanness. They were not rich True, his capital was his own, and his business wa; good ; but he had not felt that he could spend mor< than three thousand a year on home expenses, ant here was five hundred extra, upon which he hat not counted, coming at once. Surely he could dare for such a cause, to stint his contributions for th< relief of the suffering? Could he afford it with out ? Nellie, the indulged child of wealthy pa rents, knew nothing of such anxious thoughts she only heard the result in the morning. Befor he gave her his good-bye kiss, he said, in a tone : little more sober than he-meant it should be, "Well, dear, you shall have your party. Yoi can begin making your arrangements at once Here is a hundred dollars for the feminine adorn ments. I will pay Smith and the music after wards. That was all. John Stirling had a sunny, unselfish temper, and when he had once made up his ; mind to grant his wife the indulgence she craved, it would not have been like him to spoil her pleasure by any indication of dissatisfaction. Still, as I have hinted, her intuitions were strong and her nature sensitive and impressible, and she had a certain sense of having persuaded her husband somewhat against his own wishes, that rather disinclined her to commence her preparations. It was nearly eleven o'clock before she dressed herself for the shopping expedition. She was just tying the strings to her elegant fall hat when she heard a ring at the door, and presently a servant came in with the information that a little child, who had brought home sewing, waited to see her. Mrs. Stirling was motherly by instinct, and her heart warmed at once to the shy little creature who came timidly in. It was a girl not more than seven years old?quite too young, Mrs. Stirling thought, to be trusted alone in the streets; but then she her.-elf had been brought up under the successive rule of nursery-maid and governess. She took the bundle from the child's hand, and said, with the same bright, kind smile that had wiled John Stirling's beart away: "Where did you come from, and how did you find your way here alone, you poor little thing." "Sister Annie sent me, ma'am. She had done your embroidery, and she tfiought if she could get ' the money for it to pay Mr. Jenkins, maybe he would let us stay in the room till she got a little better." : "She is sick, then?" "Yes'm. She didn't feel well enough to come. It has been hard getting along all summer, for the t ladies she works for were almost all out of town, i and some of them owing her ; and I s'pose the worry and not having much to eat did it ma'am." Mrs. Stirling leaned toward the little creature, and looked at her more closely. Could it be hun? ger, she thought, that mad^ those blue eyes look so i large and the skin so transparent? Was this little , thing actually suffering for bread, and she going . to spend five hundred dollars in one evening, feast[ ing those who never felt a want even of dainties ? r She knew not what thoughts had been in her hus. hand's mind when he spoke of suffering among t the poor. She said pleasantly : "Well, child, you must have some luncheon, and > then I will go with you to see your sister. I had | better speak to her'aboutthe work." t "Isn't it right? Can't you pay her?" The child gave a start of alarm and spoke with the . premature womanliness and natural apprehensions 5 of misfortune which are among the saddest fruits ' of poverty. Mrs. Stirling relieved her with ready sympathy. > "Yes, indeed, the work is all right. It's done i beautifully; but I want to see your sister about some more, and perhaps I can do her good." [ It would have made the kind lady's heart ache could she have seen the eagerness with which the I half-famished child devoured the lunch which was ! set before her in the kitchen. In a few moments they were ready to start. Mrs. Stirling had replaced her velvet mantle with a Scotch shawl, her French hat by a simple straw; and with a basket in her hand containing a few dainties with which she hoped to tempt the sick girl's palate, she followed the child across the city toward C street?a locality hitherto terra incognita to her. In a half-dilapidated wooden house, in a narrow t court, she found the object of her search. She went up two flights of stairs and entered a back room lighted by one window. The atmosphere struck her, in spite of her warm attire, with asud; den chill. i Evidently the sun never came there. The dampness on the wall, the general aspect of gloom and cheerlessness, was only relieved by an air of scru; pulous neatness which pervaded everything. Mrs. Stirling had already noticed this quality in the ati tire of the child, which, though cheap and poor i and patched, was as immaculate in its cleanness as ;* her own. At the window, attempting to sew, the older sister sat, but she was evidently very ill. Every now and then a spasm of coughing seized her, which compelled her to lay down her work and clasp both her hands to her side, while the pale. ness of her thin cheek flushed into hectic. Mrs. Stirling had not seen her before since spring, the work returned that morning having been sent by a , servant She went to her and sat down in a chair i which stood near. 1 "Your sister said you were sick, and so I came . to see if I could be of any use to you," she said, , in gentle tones, which, of themselves, carried a certain comfort with them. "You have changed terribly since spring. 1 must hear all about it; but I want you should eat what I have brought . you; here is some jelly, and a bit of cold chicken ; they will do you good." The poor girl looked at the viands with the in, voluntary greediness of hunger. Then she blushed deeply, and said in a low voice: "I am very grateful, madam ; but if you please , I will wait until you leave me. Allow me at pres. cnt to attend to you." "No, indeed !" Mrs. Stirling spoke in her pretty absolute fashion. "I am not going yet. I want to talk with you a while, and I shall not do . so until you have taken something to strengthen you. Little Jane has lunched already." So the gay, bright lady sat, and waited, feeling, - in the new prospect of being actively useful, a gen uine glow of delight. When the girl had finished , her generous meal and taken up her work again, I Mrs. Stirling began to talk to her. r "Is this consumption, Annie?" she asked gently, "Your cough alarms me'" "No, ma'am, 1 am very sure it is nothing of the t kind yet. There is no consumption in our family. , My father was a country minister, and had a strong - and healthy constitution. He died young, but it 5 was from a violent fever, caught in attendance on a sick stranger. I think it was grief which made - my mother follow him in three months. She had - always been delicate, though not sickly, and she i lacked the strength it required to live and suffer, j It is seven years since she died, on the very day > little Jane was born." i "How old were you then ?" t "Fifteen, and there were no living children bes tween us two." > "And you have supported yourself and her ever on > since r 1 "Oh! no. My father's books and furniture sold 3 for enough to keep us some time, and my aunt, * * * "T? , nr. L.iL i who lived here, Drougnt us 10 laosion. ?v e uum - lived with her. She took care of Jane, and I c worked in a shop, and earned enough to buy our t clothes and help Aunt Martha with the living. It . is only since she died?three years ago, that 1 have 3 been all alone with Jenny." j "You came out of the shop then ?" 1 "Yes, because I could not have Jenny there 1 with me, and she had no one else to see to her, , and indeed I have made more money since, I have j embroidered so much." "But surely you have suffered more than usual - this summer." ; "Oh! yes, ma'am. The ladies that I work for e are mostly out of town in the summer always, and a so winters I try to save something to help us through. But last winter was so hard that I had a not as much work as usual, and this summer we . have not been very well off. I had to give up the i- comfortable room I used to have, because I could - not earn cuough to pay for it, and I suppose the dampness here has not just agreed with me." She tried to smile, but the tears came instead. Mrs. Stirling took her hand with a comforting pressure. "Don't cry. Better times are coming to you now. I am sure I can influence you a great deal more work. You shall have enough to do, and we must see that you move out of this damp, unhealthy place." Sister Annie smiled sadly. "The landlord has seen to that, madam. I can only stay here three days longer. He wants to let the room to a tenant who will pay more ; and I have been troubled for fear I should not be able to go out and find another place." "Well, you must not feel anxious. Just leave that until to-morrow. Then if you are not able to go, I will find a place for you. It cannot be a difficult matter to find one as good as this. At any rate, to-morrow you shall see me again ; and in the wntt TTT/-???lr little .Tnnti KrnnfrVif meantime tuu puj IVI iuv nvnv uwi^ vuuv v>w.Q..v home will make you comfortable." So saying, she put into the girl's hand twice the customary price for the embroidery she had done, and without waiting for the thanks that trembled on Annie Hadley's lips, she went out of the room, J down, the stairs, and returned home after this, her first charity visit. On the way she stopped but once, and that was not to look into any of the "windows gay with autumn goods, or to exchange her hundred dollar note on the Suffolk Bank for silk and satins. She only went for a moment to a neat, respectable-looking, house on Myrtle street, and then hurried home. She met her husband, when he came to his five o'clock dinner, with a beaming smile. The meal was well cooked and neatly served; the wife opposite him was young and fair; and when John Stirling rose from the table and went with her into her evening room, it is no wonder he said to himself, that this being in one's home wasn't so bad a thing, after all. "What is it, Nellie ?" he asked, after a while, in answer to a questioning look in his wife's eyes. She drew near him. "You are sure, John, you can spare me that five hundred dollars without putting aside any rightful claim?" "I hope so, Nellie; if I had not thought so, I should not have given it to you, much as I love to please you." "Then what," she spoke hesitatingly, "what if I wanted very much indeed to use it for something else?" "T dn not understand what vou can possibly meau." For answer she detailed to him the different events of the day. ^en she was through, she said: "It seems so hard, John, for that poor girl, a minister's daughter, too, to be suffering for want of food; and living, or rather dying, by inches, in that miserable, damp, unhealthy place. I can see how with five hundred dollars, I could make her. so comfortable. I stopped in at Nurse Suiead's on ray way home to-day, and I found that she had a nice, bright, good sized room, which she will let for seventy dollars a year. There is a stove in it already, and a carpet on the floor, and thirty dollars more would supply it with everything needed for comfort Now, if I could pay the rent of the room a year in advance for Annie Hadley, and fit it up neatly, what a fine start it would be for her. It would give her such rest?such freedom from care. She would have time to get well. She's very skillful with her needle, and, with the work she could easily do, she could live so nicely, and Jenny could go to school. I have it all planned, and there, with your permission, goes the hundred dollars in my pocket." Johu Stirling looked at his wife, and it seemed to him, with the generous, unselfish light illuminating it, her face was the face of an angel. But he did not say so then. "He answered her, in the tone of one raising an objection, "But what would you wear to the party, Nellie ? I should not like you to look shabby." "Trust me for that. I can wear ray wedding dress. It is such a rich, heavy white silk, and it is not soiled at all. With a little different arrangement of the trimmings, it will be as handsome as anything I could get. But are you quite set upon giving that party, John?" "Are you not, dear?" "I was." There was a pause for a few moments, in which Nellie tied and untied the tassels of her little silk rAi-nml limnc XVIlon o)l?? lnnl-pfl 1111 fln PJ1 UJJiUII O^VVIUl VIUJVO. It UVU MIIV -J# ? ? wger light shone through the mist which had somehow gathered before her eyes. . "I suppose there are many people in the city, John, just as worthy as Annie Hadley, and needing help just as much ?" "Without doubt, Nellie; plenty of worse cases, especially now as winter is coming on." "Could you help me to find them ?" "I think I could. Some of the cases of destitution, which he cannot afford to relieve, make a business man's heart ache almost every day." "Then four hundred dollars extra, which you would not have given otherwise, will do a great deal, won't it?" "Yes, a great deal. It is a large sum." "Yes, it is a large sum, as you said last night, John, to be spent on a single evening's entertainment for those who do notneed it; but not large when we compare it with the wants of those who suffer. John, I have no wish to give that party. Will you take the money for doing good?" "But those who have invited us, Nellie? The Hurlbuts, the Graysous; all your many friends? One wouldn't like to be thought mean ?" "We can ask them all, a few at a time?all those we care for. Your ordinary house keeping allowance is liberal enough for that. If that does not please them, after all, John"?and the little woman hid her face on her husband's shoulder, for she was one who seldom uttered her deepest thoughts, or mentioned, even to him, the emotions which she held most sacred?"if they should not approve it, it matters so much more what He thinks who told us to invite to our feasts the poor, the maimed, the blind. I have been blind till today, John. I don't care for large parties any >) uiure. "You shall do as your heart has counselled you Nellie. The money shall be at your disposal tomorrow. We will give our reception to*the guests whom God himself graciously chose for us." lie said no more just then, but Nellie Stirling had unconsciously gaiued in thut hour a new and holier hold on the heart of her husband. He had loved the gay, half-spoiled girl; what word expresses what he felt for the noble, self-sacrificing woman whom that day had revealed to him ? Annie Iladley's heart was lightened next day of a weary burden, and she was as grateful for Mrs. Stirling's delicacy as for her aid. A Brilliant Whitewash.?'When we wish a wash of this character, we wish an article that will be durable, and we are willing to be at a little more expense if we can get it. We have it in the following receipt: Take clean lumps of well-burnt white lime, slackened; add to five gallons a quarter of a pound of whiting, or burnt alum pulverized, half a pound of loaf sugar, one quart and a half of rice flour made into a thin and well boiled paste, and half a pound of cleanest glue, dissolved and boiled out in water. This may be put on cold, within doors, but hot outside. This will be as brilliant as plaster of Paris, and retain its brilliancy for many years. ^lisccUiiueous Reading. TEARS. The principal element, the prane ingredient, so to say, of a tear is water; this water, upon dissolutions, contains a few hundredth parts substanco called mucus, and a small portion of salt, of soda, of phosphate of lime and of phosphate of soda. It is the salt and soda that give to tears that peculiar savor which earned for them the epithet of "salt" at the hands of the Greek poets, and that of "bitter" at that of ours. "Salt" is, however, the more correct of the two. When a tear dries, the water evaporates and leaves behind it a deposit of saline ingredients; these amalgamate, and as seen through the microscope, array themselves in long crosslines, which look like diminutive'fish bones. Tears are secreted by a gland called the lachrvraal viand, which is situated &ove the eye-ball, and underneath the upper eyelid, on the side nearest the temple. Six or seven exceedingly fine channels flow from it along and under the surface of the eyelid, discharging their contents a little above the delicate cartilage which supports the lid. It is these channels or canals which carry the tears into the eyes. But tears do not flow only at certain moments and under certain circumstances as might be supposed?their flow is continuous; all day and all night?though less abundantly during sleep?they trickle softly from their slender sluices, and spread glistening over the surface of the pupil and eyeball, giving them that bright, enameled and limpid look which is one of the characteristic signs of health. It is the ceaseless movement and 1 contraction of the eyelids that effect the regular 1 spreading of the tears; and the flow of these has 1 constantly to be renewed in the way just mention- 1 ed, because tears not only evaporate after a few minutes, but also are carried away through two little drains, "lachrymal points," and situated in the corner of the eye near the nose. Thus, all tears, after leaving the eyelids, flow into the nostrils, and if the reader will assure himself of this, he has only to notice, unpoetioal as the fact may ' be, that a person after crying is alv^tys obliged to make two-fold use of his or her pocket handkerchief. The utility of tears to animals in general, and in particular to those who are exposed to the dust, such as birds who live amidst the winds, is easy to understand; for the eye would soon be dirtied and blocked up like an uncleaned window pane, had ' not nature provided this friendly overflowing stream to wash and refresh it A very little fluid is necessary to keep the eye 1 clear and clean ; but here again we must admire , the wonderful mechanism, which works the human body, for it is to be observed that when, through accident or hurt, the eyeball has need of ' more water than usual to cleanse it, nature at once turns on a more abundant supply of tears. Thus, . for instance, when a grain of dust or an insect j creeps into the eye, the eyelids at once fill and run over with tears, and not only alleviate the pain, ^ but also, when the object is small enough, carry it away down the two small conduits already noticed. The same thing occurs when either smoke, too vivid light, or too intense cold obscures the sight ?tears at once come to our relief, and protect the eyes from harm. With regard now to other tears?those I mean , that proceed from moral instead of physical causes ' ?the explanation to be given of them is a prosy and material one. Tears are caused both by the " sudden and rapid flow of blood to the head and by , excessive nervous excitement They are most frequent with women and children, whose nervous , organization is less strong than that of men. Lym- ( phatic natures on the contrary, and people of billious temperament, rarely weep at all; the former ( because they have commonly but little sensibility, , and tbe latter because they usually have a firm control over their feelings. When, therefore, a man of lymphatic or billious temperament is seen to shed tears under emotion, one may feel sure , that the innermost nerves of his heart have been wrung, and one must bow one's head in respect before a man whose pangs must be intense. Conversely, it is prudent to keep one's coolness before strongly excitable or highly imaginative people who weep; their tears are often genuine, but, as a rule, ^ they cost them but little effort, and in nine cases out of ten, are forgotten as soon as shed. Actors ( of great talent call up tears at will, by working , themselves into a wild state of excitement Mademoiselle Rachel, for instance, than whom no colder, more unloving woman ever trod the stage, used, when she put forth all her efforts, to weep so pas- j sionately that she would set fifteen hundred spec- | tators crying with her. , OCEAN TELEGRAPHY. We find the following interesting account of the j working of the Atlantic cable in a recent lecture by | the Hon. William J. McAlpine, on the subject of : "Modern Eneineerining Telegraphy may, with propriety, be considered ] one of the branches of engineering, and is peculiarly of modern development. A clever writer says | that it may be read by each of the five senses. On , land lines each signal is made by suspending the flow of the electric current for two different inter- 'j vals of time called "dots and dashes"?the use of which, in different orders, constitutes the alphabet < of the telegraph. When these are printed, they f are read by "sight," but ordinarily the operator reads them by "sound" as easily as a musician | reads the letters of the scale by the same sense. , If the operator has no instrument, he will grasp j the wire in his hand and read the signals by "feel- ] ing" the intermissions of the flow of the electric ( current. In like manner, by placing the wire } across his tongue he can "taste" the same inter- j mission, but this is a dangerous experiment. And j it is said that electricity can be made to dissolve a , chemical and produce a pungent odor in the tele- < graphic alphabet which can be read by "smelling," | but for this I do not vouch. I believe that the < method of signalling through the Atlantic cable is ] known in detail to but few persons. The opera- ] tion is exactly reversed from that of the land wires, . The gutta percha covering of the copper wires, under the pressure of a great depth of water, be- | comes an absorbent of electricity which is being ( 4a a Avtnnf ryP (in rtoi* nnnf t fcCUL lllIUU&U IIIUIU, LU LUC LAvv.iv v* u\j v^vuv. The first portion of the electric wave of 10 percent, crosses the ocean (1700 miles) in two seconds, and it would be followed by a succession of waves from the restoration of that portion of the electricity which has been absorbed by the gutta percha in impulses, and the signal would be repeated like echoes, and produce not only confusion, but great delay. To remedy this, Professor Varley introduced a key, which sends alternate currents, positive and negative, at such intervals as to allow the first wave of 10 per cent to pass forward, and then that portion absorbed by the covering is neutralized by its opposite, and the cable is cleared for the transmission of a second pair of currents. The ' battery used is a very small one, (three of Daniel's I cups,) and the signal being 10 percent, of this i small current, is powerless to move any of the other instruments in use on land. The instrument i used consists of a minute polarized needle, sus- 1 pended on a single strand of a spider's web, or one from the silkworm. In the middle of this minute i needle is placed an almost miscroscopic mirror, ' which reflects a single ray of light from a powerful lamp. The currents of electricity affect this i needle alternately to the right and left for a space i of time corresponding to that occupied in the sig-'i nal of the land-line, the same kind of alphabet being used in both cases. The receiver (not operator,) aits in a dark room, and the small mimjr reflects the ray of light upon a piece of paper before him, on which a black line is drawn, to the right and left of which the light is alternately reflected. The receiver reads these signals by "sight" and transmits them to another person, placed outside of the dark room, by means of an ordinary instrument A short time since, General Reynolds told mo that he had sent a message, without either wire or cable, ninetv-two miles across an arm of Lake Superior, by means of the heliotrope or mix* ror, and on the return of this messenger, who had been sent with a written copy, he found that the heliotrope message had been received, understood and obeyed. He had two assistants, who had been telegraphic operators, who had for a whole summer been amusing themselves in talking to each other with these instruments, though they were stationed ten, twenty, or thirty miles apart. When the rebel General Morgan made his great raid through Indiana and Ohio, he captured one of my operators, and compelled him to telegraph in General Lew Wallace's name to Cincinnati, asking how many regular troops were in that city. Morgan read by "sound" and therefore the operator did not dare to intimate that he was under duress, and could only venture to add an extra initial to his own signature. The receiving operator at Cincinnati knew that Morgan was in that neighborhood, and suspecting from the extra initial letter that all was not right, replied greatly exaggerating the force of regulars, and the consequence was that Morgan changed his route to a circuit of twenty miles beyond the city, and thus saved it from a sack,%and the probable loss of millions of dollars. HINTS FOR THE HOUSE-WIFE. Aunt Betsey eamo in yesterday as I was making paste to paper my bedroom. "Put a little pulverized alum in it, Kate," said 3he; ' 'a half teaspoonful to a pint of the flour, then you will not need to wash the wall with vinegar, ; and it will make the paper stick, too." While she was in, old Mr. Mix drove up with eggs and meat to sell. He and Aunt Betsey used to go to school together when they were children. ; ">vnat sort o meat you got, saiasne, tenaer or tough ?" "Some of it's tender; line-steak is allers teuder, you know. My old woman says she can make any steak Under by rubbing this ere carbonate of soda on it over-night, and then washing it off just afore : you ccok it in the mornin'." "Stop at my house," said Aunt Betsey, "and i leave five or six pounds of round steak. If sody'll make it tender, I can keep it with black pepper till I eat it up." "How did you say, Betsey?" inquired Mr. Mix. "Why, jest rub common black pepper all over i it, and it'll keep in the warmest weather. Some folks salt their steaks to make 'em keep, but salt draws all the juice out of the meat, and makes it tough and tasteless. When you want to cook it, wash off the pepper, and it'll be jest as tender and savory-like as one would wish. Salt oughtn't to be put on steak till it is all done, and laid on a hot platter. I allers salt ray steak just afore I put it on the table." After Mr. Mix left: "Do tell me, Kate, how you make that sponge-cake you had at the Sewing S'iety the other day; 'twas real nice, and so light; just what sponge-cake oughter be." "Certainly," I replied [ "here's pencil and paper, and I'll write it down for you." Sponge-cake; Two cups of flour, two cups of 3ugar, six eggs, one teaspoonful essence of lemon, one tablespoonful of water. "Thank you, Kate ; and would you mind writing down on the other side of that sheet how to make that fruit-puddin' you had the last time I dined here? I can't generally eat. plum-puddin', but that didn't hurt me a bit." So I wrote as follows, baby all the while in my arms, and pulling at my nose and hair: Fruit-pudding: One cup of molasses, half a cup of brown sugar, half a cup of butter, one cup of milk, three and a half cups of flour, one half teaspoon each of cinnamon, allspice, and cloves, half a cup or more of raisins or currants, a large cupful of chopped apples, or if you have no apples, dried peaches or dried apples that have been well soaked, will do; one teaspoonfull of soda stirred in the molasses. Boil two hours.? Mrs. Kate Ilunnibecs Dimii. in Hearth and Home. ? ? A Decayed Notoriety.?Hanging about the front of the Metropolitan every day, and some- , times peering into the doorway, for notice has been served upon him to keep out of the hotel, is a gray-haired, broken-down old man, hobbling pain- , fully along with a cane, for he has the gout besides , several kinds of rheumatism, who has been as well known in Washington for thirty years past as the most distinguished statesman in the land. This is the famous '"Beau Hickman," or what there is of him. His eccentricities have furnished columns of paragraphs for newspapers all over the country, though to see him now one would naturally wonder how he ever came to get a national notoriety. He couldn't have done it anywhere but in Wash- , ington. Take him anywhere else in the world and he would simply be considered a common nuisance, md treated accordingly. He belongs to some old ! Virginia family (tradition says), and gained the title of "Beau" some thirty years ago, when he had money, by the style he used to affect at the Vir- ; ginia watering springs and other places of public resort. He boasts of having been on terms of easy af familiarity with Clay, Benton, Calhoun, and the rest who figured at the capital when the Beau was ( in his prime; and no doubt they did tolerate and ( patronize him. If he had any wit in those days, ; Dr was in any manner enterprising, there is not the slightest indication of it remaining. He wears a seedy, half-military cloak over his shoulders all the time; his hat is of a defunct style, but neatly brushed always, and an eye-glass dangles in front of him from a ribbon. There are several little points j about hiin that show the dilapidated dandy. His custom for years was to collect a dollar a J piece from all congressmen, and those who had se- i :ured Government positions in Washington, on , their first arrival at the capital. He only asks for ( a quarter now, and is ready to take anything that { is offered, even a three cent piece. He mourns < aver a degenerate republic, and says there are no i men of brains at Washington any more. He leans against a pillar of the hotel and smiles scornfully ] an our great American statesmen as they pass? 1 Eggleston, Steaderand the rest?and mutters words < af gloom and bitterness. Poor old Beau.Hickman. He ought to be pensioned and laid away, for he is about the only link that connects Washington pres- I ent with Washington past i ^ j tSFFretting does no good; and worrying over ] what we cannot control, does not make the pot 1 boil or give the child a new frock. Then why fret i and waste our strength for that which is not bread ? ; Why not enjoy every day and everything that God < gives us, and trust for the rest It is certain that | fretting always proves feebleness and shallowness, i It is not the strong and self-poised man that wor- i ries. He says: "I am my own master, and can < take care of myself; what is past I have won, and < what is to come I will control." But to the feeble < a mole hill becomes a mountain and a pigmy is a j giant. He fears every shadow and trembles jq the ] anticipation of what may now be, So we find that j the water iy little moved at the bottom of the river, the shallow stream is always noisy and disturbed, and as it ever throws the mire and dirt to the surface, so the shallow, fretfu) man uncovers the dirty side of his character andfiisplays his corruption all about him. In patience, then, let us possess our souls. If the world goes well, enjoy it; if it seems to run bad, let tto soar above it and despise its evils and its meannj?. Night Air Not Injurious.?'There is a popular prejudice concerning the evil effects of night air, about which a word must be said. In her admirable writings on hygiene and the management of the sick, Mrs. Nightingale has done much to correct this mistake. It was formeriy the universal belief that the air of night was very injurious. But the fact is, that, except under certain circumstances, it is as healthful, or even more so, than that of the day-time. The night air of large cities, snch as London, when the4Mutle^nd<<???3,tflOtion, which cause it to be loaded with dust particles, is comparatively quelled, and the numerous fires which contaminate it with their smoke, are mostly extinguished, is purer than that of the day. Noth ing conduces more to healthy sleep than good ventilation, and no mode of ventilation surpasses that obtained by opening a window at the top, by which the influence of draught is avoided, while the upper stratum of air, to which impurities ascend, is certainly renewed. But there is still another reason for at times adopting night, even in preference to day, ventilation. In sultry weather it is a common mistake to open the windows instead of keeping them altogether closed, as is the case in very hot climates. But a little reflection will show that since the height of the thermometer in the sun greatly exceeds that shown at the same time by another thermometer placed in the shade, by opening the window we admit air much heated into our rooms. The proper time, under such circumstances, for ventilation, is during the night, when the external air has cooled down. By adopting this plan in hot weather, the temperature of a room may always be kept several degrees lower than if the opposite course is pursued.-*L(?ood Health. Cut This Out and Keep It.?Franklin Dyre, a highly respectable and intelligent farmer of Galena, Kent county, Maryland, gives the following as a sure cure for the bite of a mad dog.. As will be seen, he has tested it with the most gratifying results: ''Elecampane is a plant well known to most persons, and is to be found in many of our gardens. Immediately after being bitten, take one and a half ounces of the root of the plant?the green root is perhaps preferable, but the dried will answer, and may be found in our drug stores, and was used by me?slice or bruise, put it into a pint of fresh milk, boil down to a half pint, strain, and when cold drink it, fasting at least six hours, afterward. The next morning, fasting, repeat the dose, prepared as the last, and this will be sufficient. It is recommended that after each dose, nothing be eaten for at least six hours, I have a son who was bitten by a mad dog eighteen years ago, and four other children in the neighborhood were also bitten; they took the above dose, and are alive and well to this day. And I have known a numbor of others who were bitten and applied the same remedy. It is supposed that the root contains a principle which, being taken up by the blood in its circulation, counteracts or neutralizes the deadly effects of the virus of hydrophobia. I feel so much confidence in this simple remedy that I am willing you should give my name in connection with this statement." AST* A Boston journal has made the brilliant discovery that "it is easier to find a dozen good newspaper writers than one good newspaper editor." This will hardly be regarded in the light of an important discovery by the public at large, for it re-' quires but a very slight knowledge of newspapers to know that their success depends not so much on the ability of individual writers, as upon the tact and generalship of their conductors. A newspaper is, in fact, almost as much the production of one mind as a book, for though there may be fifty different pens engaged in furnishing the matter which goes into it, it is the individual tact of the conductor that gives it all consistency, that blots out the objectionable sentences, and adds the necessary words here and there to elucidate and give point to what would otherwise be obscure and meaningless. The editor of a paper occupies a position somewhat similar to that of the chief general of an army, under whose charge there may be many brave and accomplished officers, without superiors in their respective spheres, but yet not one could lead the host to victory in the absence of the commander-in-chief. The editor of the London Times is not by any means a brilliant writer; there are doubtless many men under him who can excel him in writing leaders, reporting speeches, or doing the miscellaneous work of a daily journal, but probably not one who could conduct that famous paper with the success he has secured to it. The proprietors properly appreciate his services, and his salary is equal in amount to that of the President of the United States. John Hancock.?No man has probably been more overrated than John Hancock. He was rich, lived ostentatiously, and was very generous, but he was vain and unscrupulous. Almost everybody who traded with him was obliged to sue him. My father told me that one could seldom pass the court house iu Boston, during his time, without hearing the crier of the court proclaim from the doorsteps, "His excellency, John Hancock come into court and make answer to A. B., or you will be defaulted." He would present to a' clergyman, for example, on election day, a suu jf clothes, and the tailor would have to sue the governor for payment ?and so in numerous other instances. His widow, Madame Scott, who married Capt. Scott, master of one of Gov. Hancock's London packets, told me in my youth, that on one occasion, the governor invited the whole Senate of Massachusetts to breakfast with him without giving her any notice. She said, "We hare no milk for the coffee of so many persons," and he replied, "Send the servant sut to milk the cows on the common." It was the custom then for the inhabitants to send their cows to crop the grass on the public common. But Hancock was not the only man in public life who in those days dishonored his position. The late Judge William Jay informed me that while he was a boy, be heard Chancellor Livingston say to his father, "Jay, what a set of rascals there were in the )ld Congress".?Lewis Tappan. ? . The Seasons.?It has been proved by statistics that the healthiest quarter of the year is that ending with J une 30. The unhealthiest is that which immediately follows, and terminates with September 30. Dr. Samuel Rogers, an eminent English lecturer, attributes the increased mortality at that time to excessive heat and sunstroke. The best remedy against these evils are taught by the Lilians, to wit; "To keep the body wet and cold by the external appliances of water." Dr. Rogers irgues that the use of flannels in hot weather is a mistake, aud believes in a free, but judicious use 3f cold water, both internally and externally. He jxpresses the opinion that an ordinary observanoe sf the simple rules of hygiene and a proper oaution in matters of diet will insure and preserve good health, under ordinary circumstances, during the most trying periods of the year. Let Us Help One Another.?This little sentence should be written on every memory. It should be the golden rule practiced not only in every household, but throughout the world. By helping one another, we not only remove thorns from the pathway, and anxiety from the mind, but we feel a sense of pleasure in our own hearts, knowing we are doing a duty to a fellow creature. A helping hand or an enoouraging word is no loss to us, yet it is a benefit to others. Who has not felt the power of this little sentence? Who has not needed the encouragement and aid of a kind friend? How soothing when perplexed with some task that is mysterious and burdensome, to feel a gentle hand on the shoulder and hear a kind voice whispering: "Do not feel discouraged?I see your trouble, let me help you." What strength is inspired?what hope created?what sweet gratitude is felt, and the great difficulty is dissolved as rtaw fTiA onnnViino Vm. lpfc ns Violn nne another by endeavoring to strengthen and minv age the weak and lifting the burden of care from the weary and oppressed, that life may glide smooth* ly on and the fount of bitterness yield sweet waters, and he whose willing hand is ever ready to aid us, will reward our humble endeavors, and every good deed will be as "bread cast upon the waters, to return after many days," if not to us, to those we love. , A Knowing Clergyman.?A Prussian clergyman applied to the king of Prussia for permission to preach in his chapel. Hi> majesty thought it presumptuous for a country clergyman to ask such a favor, but nevertheless granted his request, and told him he would give him a text to preaeh on, and that he should preach on the Sunday following, when he would be there to hear him. The clergyman waited with anxiety from day to day for the text, as he wished to have it in time, that he might make a fine sermon of it; he, however, went into the pulpit with the intention to preaoh one of his old sermons, thinking the king had forgotten to send him a text The king came to the chapel soon after, 8hd sent the clergyman a letter, which he opened and read; the contents were: "The enclosed is your text; you will preach on it immediately." He opened the bit of paper that was inclosed, when, to his great astonishment, he found it quite a blank; he looked at the other side, it was blank there too; he held it out for the audience to look at, and said, "Here is nothing," and then turning it, "and there is nothing; and of nothing God created heaven and earth," then quoted a verse in the first chapter of Genesis, to preach a sermon on it extempore. The king was so delighted at the great presence of mind the clergyman had shown, that he made him his almoner. Richness of the English Language.?The construction of the English language must appear most formidable to a foreigner. One of them looking at a picture of a number, of vessels, said: "See what a flock of ships!" He was told that a flock of ships was called a fleet, and that a fleet of sheep was called a flock. And it was added for his guidance in mastering the intricacies of our language that "a flock of girls is called a bevy, that a bevy of wolves is called a pack, and a pack of thieves is called a gang, and a gang of angels is called a host, a host of porpoises is called a shoal, a shoal of Buffalo is called a herd, and a herd of children is called a troop, and a troop of partridges is called a covey, and a covey of beauties is called a galaxy, and a galaxy of ruffians is called a horde, and a horde of rubbish is called a heap, and a heap of oxen is called a drove, and a drove of blackguards is called a mob, and a mob of whales is called a school, and a school of worshippers is called a congregation, and a congregation of engineers is called a corps, and a corps of robbers is called a band, and a band of locusts is called a swarm, and a swarm of people is called a crowd, and a crowd of gentlefolks is called elite, and the elite of the city's thieves and rascals are called roughs." Common Quotations.?Among the quotations in constant usfe, "Dark as pitch," "Every tub must stand on its own bottom;" are found in Bnnyan. "By hook or crook," "Through thick and thin," are used by Spencer in the "Fairy Queen." "Smell a rat" is employed by Ben Jonson, and Butler in Hudibras. "Wrong sow by the ear" (now rendered, "Take the wrong pig by the ear") is used by Ben Jonson. "Turn over a new leaf' occurs in Middleton's play of Anything for a quiet Life. "The moon is made of green cheese" is found in Rabelais. "To die in the last ditch," which is popularly supposed to have originated in the South during the late rebellion, is traced to William of Orange, who once said: "There is one certain means by which I can be sure never to see my country's rum?I will die in the last ditch." B?* Keep your eyes open, boys, when you are after a woman. If the little dear is cross and scolds at her mother in the back room, you may be sure thatyou will get particular flts all around the house. If she apologizes for wiping the dishes, you will need a girl to fan her. If she blushes when at the wash-tub with her sleeves rolled upj be sure, sir, that she is codfish aristocracy, little breeding. little sense. If you marry a woman who knows nothing but to commit woman-slaughter on the piano, you have got the poorest piece of muslin ever gotten up. Find the one whose mind is right, and then pitch in. Don't he hanging around like a sheep thief, as though ashamed to be seen around in the day time, but walk up like a chicken to dough and ask for the article, like a man. Death from Folly.?A young man named Jos. Wagner, living in Charleston, West Virginia, professed to have the power of charming snakes. Last Thursday, having captured a rattlesnake, he was giving some friends an exhibition of this power. After fondling the snake for a time in his arms, he threw it on the ground and switched it until it writhed with rage. He then took the reptile up in his arms again, and saying, "Are you mad? kise me and make up," he put its head in his mouth. The snake bit his tongue, and he died in about an hour afterward. In fifteen minutes after being bitten, bis skin assumed the spotted color of the snake. The Use of Adversity.?You wear out your clothes. You are not troubled with visitors. You arc exonerated from making calls. Bores do not bother you. Tax-gatherers hurry past you. No one thinks of presenting you with a testimonial. Impostors know it is of no use try to bleed you. You practice temperance. You swallow indefinitely less poispn than others. Flatterers do not shoot their rubbish into your ears. You are saved many a deception, many a headache. And lastly, if you have a true friend in the world, you are sure, in a very short space of time to know it aSrCorinne, one of the Pacific Railroad towns, contains about one hundred and fifty houses, most of which are tents.'' They are used for the following purposes:?One blacksmith shop, one livery stable, several restaurants, four stores, three hotels and boarding houses. The rest of the buildings are devoted to whiskey?whiskey straight?whiskey and cards?whiskey and other less honest games of chance?whiskey and dancing?whiskey and musio?and whiskey and Venus. ? ? *?*Suoccss rides on every hour; grapple it and you may win, but without a grapple it will never go with you. Work Is the weapon of honor, and he who lacks the weapon will never triumph.